Read Poem: DIG A PONY, by G. L. Helm

A while ago on the radio
When I was the boy disc jockey
And part time genius
I locked myself in the studio
And began to play the Fab Four
So that all of Indiana
Or at least Peru
Could hear.
After a bit the listeners became callers
And all they said was“play more Beatles Genius!
Play more Beatles!”
And I did until the boss unlocked the door and cut me off.

I wish all four were still alive,
The boys from Liverpool.
I could use some new tunes to be
“The sound track of my life.”
I know it’s a cliché
But Ringo, Paul, John and George
Seemed to know my heart.
When they sang, “I want to be a paperback writer”
They were talking about me.
I knew them and they knew me
Though we had never met save through music.

When John Lennon died of fame, by gunshot
I had a guitar in my hands
Playing one of his songs.
I could not believe what I had heard.
John Lennon Dead?
It couldn’t be!
A gunshot wound?
Not possible!
He was “Give Peace a chance”
In bed with Yoko in Amsterdam to stop war.
He was the one who bought farms with his wealth
Because Cows and Sheep had no part of war!
He was “Imagine all the people, living life in Peace.”

How the fuck could he be dead of a gunshot wound?

And now George – the quiet one
Whose Krishna Krishna, Harè Harè
Called the soul in us to touch the face of God.
He was eaten by cancer but on him,
(Another peaceful man)
The price of fame brought crazies
To attack him in his bed
As if he weren’t dying fast enough.

We have Paul and Ringo still
But the four are no more, and it makes me want to cry
But I don’t anymore.
I just Play more Beatles
The soundtrack of my life.