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View Full Version : I went to see a John Lennon exhibition



Hwyl
08-29-2009, 01:10 PM
It was down the road in Ogunquit. Interesting mixture of crass and poignant.

Copies of everything, much of which were copies were for sale, and they were doing a roaring trade in T shirts.

I was reading the "manuscript" for "Revolution" when the song "Imagine" came on the music loop. This unemotional Brit was close to tears.

I'm glad I went

elf
08-29-2009, 02:46 PM
unemotional? Don't you wish!

bobbys
08-29-2009, 02:51 PM
I like John Lennon.

Tylerdurden
08-29-2009, 02:57 PM
We were approaching Norfolk on my ship a Guided Missile Cruiser loaded for bear. Word came of his death and The Captain announced it on the 1MC and called for a moment of silence. That moment stands out in my memory as I was standing next to a Nuke in the rotary launcher. Soldiers do pray for Peace.

PeterSibley
08-29-2009, 05:36 PM
doesn't do much good does it ?

Peerie Maa
08-29-2009, 06:35 PM
How do you do, Private William McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
And I'll rest for a while in the warm summer sun.
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the dead heroes in nineteen-fifteen.
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean.
Or for Willie McBride was it slow and obscene?
Did they beat the drum slowly; did they play the pipe lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle play The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipe play The Flowers Of The Forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind;
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in nineteen-fifteen,
In some faithful heart are you forever nineteen?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Enshrined forever behind a glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Did they beat the drum slowly; did they play the pipe lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle play The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipe play The Flowers Of The Forest?
Ah the sun's shining now on these green fields of France.
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
And the trenches have vanished under the plow.
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it's still no man's land.
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.
To a whole generation who were butchered and damned.
Did they beat the drum slowly; did they play the pipe lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle play The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipe play The Flowers Of The Forest?
And I can't help but wonder now, William McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe that this war would end war?
Well, the suffering and the sorrow and the glory, the shame,
The killling, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For, Willie McBride, it's all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.
Did they beat the drum slowly; did they play the pipe lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle play The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipe play The Flowers Of The Forest?


Eric Bogle (Scraps Of Paper 1983, Larrikin Music, Ltd, Sydney, AU)

Hwyl
08-29-2009, 06:59 PM
The show I saw was www.johnlennonartwork.com

I'm glad this is turning into an antiwar thread, I thought it might turn into an anti gun thread. It's obscene that Mark Chapman could carry a gun around like that. He was obsessed with "Catcher in the Rye", I didn't know that, but I recently read the book myself (I read my kids' assigned books or at least i did) he quoted a section of it in his trial.

elf
08-29-2009, 09:05 PM
How do you do, Private William McBride?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OjxMQHYo3U

Pugwash
08-29-2009, 09:26 PM
Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.



All we are saying, is give peace a chance.

Domesticated_Mr. Know It All
08-29-2009, 09:46 PM
http://www.cardozo.yu.edu/life/spring1998/john.lennon/John_Lennon1.jpg