The Fool on the Hill

Many Beatles' songs had vast poetic value but none feel more autobiographical that this one from 1967, Magical Mystery Tour later released on a greatest hits linked below...

...photo from this hilltop ©...harlon rivers ...2013

The Fool on the Hill

Day after day, alone on a hill ~

The man with the foolish grin

Is keeping perfectly still ~

But nobody wants to know him

They can see that he's just a fool

And he never gives an answer

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning round

Well on the way, head in a cloud

The man of a thousand voices

Talking perfectly loud

But nobody ever hears him

Or the sound he appears to make

And he never seems to notice

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning round

And nobody seems to like him

They can tell what he wants to do

And he never shows his feelings

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning round

Ohh oh-oh-oh-oh ohh-oh-oh

Round and round and round and round and round

He never listens to them

He knows that they're the fool

They don't like him

The fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning round

Ohhhh

Round and round and round and round and

Ohhhh

Songwriter(s): John Lennon, Paul Mccartney
Copyright: Sony/ATV Tunes LLC

Sub-entry:   Posted here for poetic value and this author claims no rights or potential profit for doing so.  The words paint an evocative picture of an image seen in the cracked mirror on the wall…. Resident crows caw out side the open window...seemingly mockingly, like I am the one that doesn't get it...

...The Azure Violin

"A Diary of the Falling Dominoes" chapter also published under "Whispering Moon Beams"

...The Azure Violin

The violin’s azure strings wept softly

from inside the quiet torn of the soul ;

musical echoes lamenting

a poignant abyss too vast to fill

each and all silenced reverie,

leaving the philosopher’s stone unthrown

Blue guitar minor chord changes, 

bent notes phrasing sharps and flats ;

memories gently weeping confirmation 

repressed flow of soul silently leaks out 

The spirit's currents eddy ;

suffused within spoken verve ,

purging streams overflowing , 

an alchemist’s soul unfurled...

© Harlon Rivers

6 . 12 . 2013 ... journal entry :

" an unexpected perfect storm & bluebirds "

A musician with a wounded wing ...

trying to find the strength to fly.  

Nothing fills the void left behind 

when we lose an invisible , 

indivisible, irreplaceable thread 

that binds the tapestry of our lives ...

I started playing a guitar when I was 5 and now I have been unable to play in 15 months…but one winged writing has finally turned into 2.   I am blessed 
to ( feel/be) mostly whole.  Sometimes change can happen so quickly we don’t even notice ... and yet accepting change is a slow process …

"four walls are a prison somedays"…

Writing a poem , while pacing this emotional cage , has me thinking about a quote from one of my favorite movies

...from Shawshank Redemption ;   Red : [narrating] " I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged . Their feathers are just too bright . And when they fly away , the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice . Still , the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone ."

"side affects" ....of synonyms & cliche

side affects ... of synonyms & cliche

perhaps too much was already said...

maybe a wing has healed enough

to find the strength to fly

possibly a sense of ever belonging

anywhere is perception...

conceivably the weight of gravity is too much 

to arise from groundedness

expecting to fly...

perhaps there is no end to find...

apparently there are too many questions

and not enough answers...

possibly a soul is lost inside...

imaginably silence is golden...

for all one knows

this was all a dream...

~

When the music is over turn out the lights

When the music is over go out into the light

~

where honeysuckle hummingbirds whir,

buttercup bumble bees buzz atop yellow…

for all one knows

there is not that much that changes.

perchance we just repeat so …

imaginably we are always as blind as we want to be...

likely hearing what we want to hear

inevitably just disregarding the rest...

~

© Harlon Rivers ... 2013

Authors note:

One day...
I listened to a song that skipped just before the end of a vinyl LP...Perhaps, I thought it may have been the work of a soothsayer but an omen nonetheless because "perhaps" was too misunderstood....

What to do? First the record's ruminating skip was driving me crazy (short drive) ... I elevated the stylus, sat it down and took ol' blue out to walk the influence of the song's moment off (!)
As we strolled, the cliches ruminated out loud like the ticks and clicks of a scared record, another life flashed back and forth before my eyes. In a moment I realized we're not that different... and what's in a name(?)

"I spent the day with my old dog mo
"Walkin' down an old dirt road
What he's thinkin' about
I don't know
But for him i bet the time
Just goes so slow
He's just a dog you know"

Blue rivers keep right on rollin...♪♫♫♪♪ ∞
song writer; Eric Andersen

Regret

there once was a magnificent puzzle

people smiled at strangers

because they didn't know any better…

we go where we don’t know the way

expecting to fly beyond

the mystery of gravity's pull

yearning to fly free ;

and yet

choosing freely

to shoulder the weight

yearning to be unleashed beyond (where dogs run free)

knowing all the while ;

human hearts go out

until there is nothing left .

there is always that possibility

that we will return with so much more

than we gave, regardless of knowing

we might feel empty on return ...

'pacing the cage'

discovering solitude is alone ...

unchained absolved

restless regret

puzzled because we just don't care

that we didn't know any better ...

© 2013...Harlon Rivers

Notes:

I'm never gonna chase something,
it's a total waste running after 

what we feel the pull
~ now is plentiful ~

nobody needs anything :

“The quickest way to receive love is to give; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings”… amandamabel

Regrets are a waste of time ...
measuring by our pain is a concept cloaked in darkness

... more than a snippet, less than the wind's song