The late John Sidney McCain III,
     now flies with Arrow Smith,
     Babbitt, and Jefferson Airplane
five days shy of his
     eighty second birthday,
     taken down (to his demise)
courtesy, sans metastatic cancer of brain
defeated by an aggressive
    
deadly linkedin chain,
yet still earns kudos
     no matter 1967 USS Forrestal fire
     (during the Vietnam War)
     his life source did
     nearly completely drain
though purposeless prevails,
     asper absolute zero gainsay,

     no rhyme nor reason
     can even feebly explain,
when approximately
     a quarter million young men
     (oh...yes, perhaps
     some women too) perished
     at sea, on land, or floatplain
sacrificed their lives for nought,

     zip, nada nothing to GAIN
(my bald, billed,
     and bold assertion,
     a mere minor tirade
     subpar class 1 hurricane
non-veteran civilian personnel),
nonetheless afflictions by said
     United States veteran and,

     subsequent Senator from Arizona,
what posthumous praise me expresses
     merely mildly silly putty,
     piddly, paltry and inane
as anti septic (of danger)
     such as books
     for children star
     ring **** and Jane

does disservice, injustice offends,
(perhaps descriptive word choices
     might smack of hyperbole,
     my humble apology if in apropos),
thus a more app pealing appellation,
could be Citizen Kane,
whose corporeal being got lain
to rest on a grassy hill

     adjacent to the main
starting point of his storied existence,
     the burial plot (right next to
     lifelong friend Chuck Larson)
     amidst a plain

extolling grandeur and solemnity,
     where grim reaper didst slain
of Arlington National
     Cemetery in Virginia terrain
concluding mine poetic epistle,
     that didst wax and wane.