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Jack L Martin Aug 2018
Brian liked to get drunk to the maxes
He killed 40 innocent people with axes
When it was his time to die
With a twinkle in his eye
Brian yelled, "Death to those who don't pay their taxes!"
fifty years have come and gone
since that fateful November day
when men of greed and fear of peace
took the chance away

removed all hope of paradise
a world serene and free of hate
divided not by war, but sea
where love directs our fate

we run and hide from truth we fear
denial is the easier pill
we laugh at those who held the truth
whose innocent blood did spill

should the Sun soon set
on our Camelot lost
when evil conquers good
they will find no mention in our history books
of the ****** in the wood
oldie
Fifty years I see it clear
a face gone pale
a falling tear
a silent stare as she began
the cutting words that choked like sand
our breath was taken
our hearts were stone
my eyes were fixed
on a tear alone
before it hit the wooden floor
the world beyond our first grade door
had changed from one of children's dreams
from castles, songs, woods and streams
to a good man unsure of what to say
of the world we would have the following day
he removed his glasses
and trembling...he said;
"The President has died"

Camelot is dead
oldie- memories of childhood - 2nd grade teacher informed us that JFK was dead
They echo through our dreams
clear as church bells
on a crisp Sunday morning
'from that direction
where everyone is looking...
don't you see?'
smoke continues to rise
some 50 years later
from a fire still burning
of greed and hate
the bitter taste remains
the nightmare of truth
keeps it veiled in shadows and silence
hiding in the blinding light
of paradise
Oldie

I have something within me that I cannot
Bear the burden of of its insinuation.
In the sport-ability of chit-chat I have
Often tried to conquer these thoughts
And with infinite pain I have hazarded
A thousand things hidden within myself.

“Excuse me,’’ I said upon seeing his face
Coming toward me while walking in Central Park.
“Are you who I think you are?’’ I asked.
“I suppose that depends on who you think I am,” he replied.
Not wanting to be made out a fool I asked
“OK, are you best known as JFK?”
“Well not exactly, he was my father,” he said with a smile.

I stuck out my hand like an idiot – but -
He offered his hand and shook mine like a man.
“I can’t believe it,” I said, “You really can
Bump into anyone in the big apple.”
He said that he had to be going, had to finish
His walk and get back to the office.

I asked him if I could tag along, just walk with him.
He said, “Sure.”
He kept a brisk pace, it was a cool day but comfortable.
The leaves were turned, mostly all fallen and
Then I realized that it was November 22nd.
“I’m real sorry about your dad,” I said,

“It broke my heart when I was a child.”
He nodded his head and sort of slowed his pace.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“I was 9”.
“I was 3”, he said looking at the ground.
“Yeah I know,” I said, “Everybody knew.”

He stopped and turned toward me,
Tilted his head to the left and point blank said,
“You know the story about my dad’s assassination
Is all BS don’t you?”
He caught me completely off guard but before I
Could say anything he turned back around and starting

Walking away from me like I had the plague.
I stood in my tracks but after he had gotten about 10 paces
He stopped and turned, “Well, do you want to walk or not?”
I half jogged to catch up with him and when I did
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Look I don’t know you and you don’t know me, “ he said
In a rough almost angry voice.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
Still half jogging to keep up with him I answered,
“Sounds like you need someone to talk to.”

He slowed a bit, “I just got confirmation on who killed my dad.”
OK, about this time I’m like you saying a few choice curse words
In my mind – like holy sh…. You know..
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Hell I don’t know,” he said, “It’s all circumstantial.”
Coming to a complete stop, “There’s got to be a way that I
Can tell people, let the whole world know that I know who did it.”

He turned to me, “What would you do if you knew who took your dad
Away from you when you were just a baby but if you told anyone about these
Murdering, slime ***** they would most likely **** you too?” he asked.
“I don’t know sir,” I said shrugging my shoulders.
“If I had your money I’d figure out a way though,” I continued.
With a questioning look he asked, “OK, if you had my money what would you do?”

“I don’t know, man,” I said - “Maybe name a building after them or a street
Or something that everyone knew you named.
You know, like a hint or a clue or something.”
His eyes got big, “That’s it,” he said, “By God that’s it.”
He shook my hand again and asked me my name.
And a few short years later he was gone too.

But the name – the name he named his business – there’s your clue

They say that time heals all wounds.  That isn’t always true. Sometimes what is needed to heal some wounds is justice. I hope that someday this particular American wound gets its fully deserved justice. One thing for sure, there can never be any justice,in this instance or any other, without Truth. What is it about JFK Jr. that whispers to me that he is not really gone?
Isaac Ward Feb 2018
Blood,
And shadows enough for two,
Lust,
For someone far from you,
Hate,
Sharper than a Blade,
Patience,
And a part in the play.
Honestly, the Nevernight trilogy by Jay Kristoff is the best I've read, ever. I'm in love, and my heart was shattered at the hands of Godsgrave, and I'm quite terrified and hopeful of what may come in book three. Please, if you haven't read those books, consider it.
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