I wanted to say a little more about the poem I added the other day, so here I go: I was a huge fan of The Beatles in school. About my first year of college, a misunderstanding of something George had said (I can't even recall what it was now), and my own immaturity, caused me to become angry with him, and therefore, I wanted nothing to do with George, and, as extension, any of the other Beatles. However, fast forward a few years later, when George was knifed by that madman. It scared me. I prayed for his recovery (and that isn't something I normally do). Thankfully, of course, he lived through the ordeal, but it made me think, how bad can what he'd said be if I still cared enough about him to want him to live? So I thought about it, and about what John had said concerning the Christians, and I saw that I was being extremely foolish. At this point, however, my absolute love for The Beatles still had not resurfaced, but at least I was more mature. A coup of years after that, of course, George died of cancer. Something I didn't even know he had because I was too foolish to keep up with him, not that it would have mattered if I did know. Anyway, though, when heard, I was in shock. I went in to my room, and just sat on the bed and stared. I didn't cry, though, and I didn't believe I would. I think, that I didn't want to let myself cry because I didn't want to think about how, in my eyes, I'd turned my back on George when he needed me, and indeed, all his fans, most. So I didn't cry. I didn't think about it, and perhaps a year after that, I happened to hear 'The Long and Winding Road' in a grocery market. I'm not sure how I managed to avoid hearing any Beatles music all that time, but instantly memories flooded back, and it became clear to me that I needed to really express my love for The Fab Four. I bought CDs, DVDs (I previously only had cassettes and videos), a pin that said "I'm a proud member of The Beatles fan club", even a purse, and I put up some of my old posters my mum was nice enough to keep for me. Well, naturally, now I wanted to listen to them, and the first album I decided on listening to, was, oddly enough, not a Beatles album, it was Cloud Nine, from George. I'm not certain what made me pick that one, but I put it in the player, the title song came on, and throughout that one, I was actually doing pretty well, it's when "If That's What it Takes", came on that I really began to tear, and by the time my favourite song on the album, "Fish on The Sand", came on, I was bawling. All those years of not letting myself care, not letting myself understand, and it didn't help that the last time I'd heard the album, George was still here, and so, a couple months after that, thanks to The Beatles (they were the ones who inspired me in the first place), my knack for poetry reappeared, and I created that poem, along with some others (though that one's actually my most recent).
