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Lennon gunned....

Lennon gunned....

John got shot that’s what he got, he
didn’t ask for the bullet that killed him.
I liked him a lot, well the songs that he
sung, I somehow identified with them.

The world he would stun,
when he fired that gun.
An insignificant little man,
with an insidious plan.
To jail he would go,
newfound fame that would grow,
just another malcontent
regrettably human.

He was a bit shy like me,
now he’s free
from people with guns
or unjust hatred.
He was a star a millionaire,
with his own style in hair,
now with a death understated.

In jail he’d still live,
a man with nothing to give.
Planning to write a book,
I hoped no one would look.
He shouldn’t profit from killing,
not a pound or a shilling,
why make a rich man
out of a cringing crook.

We feel so his loss,
but his songs do engross,
Thousands of young people
who still care.
It gets easier with time,
others try to mime,
But when he did it,
he done it with real flair.

I try to write fairly,
but my anger comes early.
Can’t stop thinking,
what else he could have wrote.
Then I think of his killer,
his body in a concrete pillar,
I’d put him there,
after ripping out his unvocal throat.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
The music lives on..
Editing stage: 

Comments

There's a seething hatred underlying these words I loved Lennon, there are a few hitches in the rhythm you will find them if you read it out loud

I do have one suggestion

just another malcontent
unfortunately human. ---- how about ['regrettably human']

if you don't like it hun just ignore me, that line is marbles in my mouth but it could just be me ?

I will come back tomorrow night I am tired see if I cant offer anything in the way of suggestions

I really liked your theme it will appeal to many people

love JC xxx

("Always and Forever") - (Never lose a holy curiosity.-Albert Einstein)

This poem was rattled out one night after watching a recording of John Lennon in central park, i thought about sorting out the rough edges, but then i thought of John Lennon singing Cold Turkey and decided to let it go as it was. But i do like your idea about the word ( unfortunately ), and will probably give the rest of the poem more thought. Love Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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