Imagine

There’s a spot in Central Park under a cherry blossom tree just off the road where carriage drawn horses pass by next to yellow taxi cabs. It’s the place you know where nothing is real, this one section that’s simplistic meaning and powerful emotion flow freely in warm shafts of color in a cold, hard city setting. Looking through bent back tulips, we come across what is known as “Strawberry Fields.” It is a lovely, tiled, circular piece on the ground. Set as the sun, one word graces the center, partially covered by flowers and photographs laid there by thousands of adoring fans; “Imagine.”

imagine

John Winston Lennon, what is there that can’t be already said. The stories you’ve told and lives you’ve touched shall never be paralleled. Whether we’d be picturing ourselves in a boat on a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies, or being welcomed by an Octopus into his safe and loving garden beneath the waves, there is nobody I’d rather listen to 8 days a week.

You took us on lyrical journeys through Yellow Submarines, to the wings of Black Birds, to the emotion carried in Oh Darling! and Here Comes the Sun. You’ve given me reasons to dance in Twist and Shout and I wanna hold your hand. You’ve given me headaches in Hey Jude.
Your words of wisdom have guided the many who have been fortunate enough to listen to your work. You’ve always reassured us that there will be an answer in our times of trouble and after Hard Days Nights we must remember, “Ob La Di, Ob La Da la la la la life goes on.” The world is lucky to have known you, and twice as lucky to remember you.

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I hope that there is a place for you to sing again. A place where you can preach your message of peace and love among all mankind, where you can tell the world that the Beatles are “bigger than Jesus,” and that you can supply Shea Stadiums biggest attendance figures, upstaging the New York Mets. Come to think of it, there is a place like that. Across the Universe, you are revered, celebrated, and your music will always be listened to rather than just heard. The message that we should all Come Together and Give Peace a Chance, is one that will never go away, all thanks to you. A symbol of love and friendship, a singer of song, a general in the British Invasion, and a true icon. So long John.

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“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one, I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will live as one.”
-John Winston Lennon

All You Need

Bright lights blind my eyes and the makeup feels like it is about to melt off of my face. My smile is large and over exaggerated, making my cheeks hurt. I am frozen, my right arm is extended horizontally, my elbow slightly bent with my fingers pointed up to the ceiling and my palm facing the wall. My left arm is lifted, draping over my head with my wrist and hand both limp. My silky hot pink shirt is tailored tight, restricting my breath, but I am still able to open my mouth and belt out my songs.

The band waits for the audience to stop applauding before they start playing; it is my cue to move again. I twirl through rows of people, all dressed in black with red sashes around their waists and paper boy hats on top of their heads. Their characters do not see me, though my character, the fictional Ringa Starr, attempts to get their attention. They suddenly swirl around me, picking me up high above their heads, and spin me in a circle. Their eyes are forward, away from me. They pretend not to see me; they only feel my presence. They set me down, and with a deep breath I open my mouth to sing with as much feeling as I have inside of me:

All you need is love!
All you need is love!
All you need is love, love;
love is all you need!

Ringa Starr

Ringa Starr

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