#jfk
it is the defining answer as to why
in the infinite measurement of time
we are quickly fading as a species
the heroes and those given the gift of genius
quietly silenced in the shadows
in the whispers that fade quickly like dreams
the light of untethered thought
the discoveries that lay in wait to bring us to an enlightened world
are crushed by the deviants
the malicious
the maggotry that userp and violate the natural progression of mankind
more brazen they have become
more defined are their goals
unflinching in their task
these oligarchs who see utopia as a world under their control
they ******
they destroy
they bury all ideas and creations
that interfere with their burning desire
for personal gain
greed owns them
greed drives them
and in the end
will come darkness
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 9:45 AM UTC
Sixty plus years ago
and the pall that covers us today
takes me there
as if I'd never escaped
the dark secrets are darker
the lies run deeper
and the consequences are greater
'those who fail to learn from the mistakes
of their predecessors
are destined to repeat them'
and here we are
watching helpless as we drown in the muddy waters
of apathy
silent
we are even more unaware
as to what is truth and what is fiction
we will soon pay the price
for not listening
not reacting
to the desperate plea of salvation
and to one man
who knew the consequences
and this time there will be no chance
to find solace in our dreams
peace within our hollow contentment
for we have lost everything
that is sacred
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 12:58 PM UTC
Dallas, November 1963
Fifty-seven years since they shot Kennedy
Everyone saw then live on T.V.
what happens when you challenge
secret society
Some say the mob or the CIA
Either black or white, but the truth is gray
and long since buried 'neath Texas clay
right next to good ol' LBJ
I ask not what my country can do for me
Blood on her hands, Lady Liberty
Let sleeping dogs lie, leave history be
The truth died in Dallas, 1963
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 3:16 PM UTC
Of a Day a Lifetime Ago
A man,
a rifle,
a Dallas motorcade,
and then,
a nation mourning
James E. Roethlein copyright 2020
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 12:09 PM UTC
Say^Say^Say
"ALL AMERICAN EYE"
You Shoot what you love?
Keep it rolling Zarpuder
We Want Them to see
We Killed God
At House of Rising Sun
its right there
in The Holy Frame
Three 1S , Threeeeeee
is the Number of The King
We Have Special Present
For All-American President
They Blow You Kisses
And
They Watched You Blow into pieces
John the Baptist
Died In The Arms of
Jackie O The Saint
Now Everyone Carry An Umbrella
No Matter How Sunny Is Dallas
Now Everyone Carry An Umbrella
No Matter How Sunny Is Dallas
Now Everyone Carry An Umbrella
No Matter How Sunny Is Dallas
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
K i n g S h o t
(3 1 3)
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 5:12 AM UTC
Dallas, November 1963
Jackie wears a pink dress at her husband’s request
Unaware that it’ll soon be a mess
As they ride through a crowd of the press
She wonders which **** her husband gonna **** next
Questioning how much fake can her heart take
She does a deep breath but suddenly
A bullet shot hits his neck & another through his head
Leaving poor old Kennedy for dead
Blood staining Jackie’s pink dress
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 1:57 PM UTC
The November 25, 1963 day of the cold sun,
the noble horses,
white horses-drawn caisson,
the dignity of their somber gait,
silver shoes resounded on the
pavement,
the skittish night-black riderless
horse-
Black Jack, led down the avenue
of the people,
his symbolic rider, no longer
bound to the earthly life, it's
sorrows.
The noble horses accompanied
him on his journey to the ages,
the mystique, the dreams,
deathless,
where the ground is hallowed-
Arlington.
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 6:30 AM UTC
Shell casings strewn
On a rooftop
A grassy knoll
An underground garage
This is what ensues
When you hate the man
In front of you in line
And he happens
To step into Texas
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
“[At the moment, the human world is a corrupt force.] Greed has poisoned [human lives], has barricaded the world with hate, and has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and [understand] too little.
However [some] continue, indefatigably, to reach out. There’s just no way [a few of us] can single-handedly save the world or, perhaps, even make a perceptible difference – but how ashamed [those few] would be to let a day pass without making one more effort.
[Like water, we can be] the highest good. Water gives life to the ten thousand things, and [does not fear its courses]. It flows in places humans reject and so [creates unity]. [It is an element that] can take any form. [Water] can drift without effort one moment, then pound down in a torrent the very next [moment, as a single force]. [And yes, It is true that the efforts of those few] amount to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?
[Now just] Imagine a world in which every single person on the planet has free access to the sum of all human [unity]. In dwelling, [we could] be close to the land. In meditation, [we could] go deep in the heart. In dealing with others, [we could] be gentle and kind. In speech, [we could] be true. In ruling, [we could] be just. In business, [we could] be competent. In action, [we would be sure to] watch the timing and the season. We may even have no reason to fight each other, and thus no reason to blame each other.
In [our] hands, my fellow [droplets], will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since [civilization began], each of our generations has been summoned to give testimony to [the greatness of life.] We’ve all wanted to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness – not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful.
Now the trumpet summons us again—not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are—but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, “rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation”—a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.
In the process of [this struggle], we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct [this struggle] on the high plains of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our [honest efforts] to degenerate into [criminal high jinks]. We must rise to the majestic heights of meeting [corrupt] force with [pure] force, [or suffer the failure of our efforts under an inequitable and desperate silence.]”
Dec 23, 2019
Dec 23, 2019 at 4:23 PM UTC
torchlight dances
on the aquamarine
blue of a hotel pool
deep in 1963
when happiness
was still on the Hi Fi
coulda woulda shoulda
Whit Howland © 2019
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 4:31 AM UTC
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
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
Voice of reaon,
calm soothing nerdy one,
quite close to you although internaly
lightly bruised
by his celebrity,
it's with great felicity that
he waves at you
through his blue or brown eyes
you can fell even through the grizzing
teevee
and there are cheers as his breath says good bye
and his hand does the peace and love
and all gathered around him
shove friendly for a handshake
milkshake of people and smiles
he's gonna win this race
we are gonna end this
hatred about race
he's gonna fix some thing
he's gonna be good
he's gonna put us in a time
we could't have dreamed of in a milion year
we always wished it come
paradise, yet fresh here in america
next is the world
next is the world
next is living together
he shook many hands as the ground around us shook
with the foots walking and pushing gently
behind his podium like a bird
he calmly politely turned around
and smiled still as he left with some body guards
everyone was still chanting and it was all so good
we had a messiah
a not bought polition
he was white inside
and every color out
so he walked in the
filled hall like a fruit basket
airs of
he has been shot
**** what is he saying what have I heared
let me fold my glasses what this is absurd
he was our messiah he was the peace
and now a metal piece thrown through him you say ?
now please let me not stay here
what
oh wow
now
like his brother
its so sad
its takes my words a away
i didnt want him to not continue
he was ours
we were his
all together on the same
lether swing singing
and so happy and fun just one second ago
his smile still shines on me
and now
now well,
we need to find a solution
but i cant look
i want to protect them from the crooks.
peace and love
rip jfk + rk
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
the girl on the stairs saw nothing
heard nothing
no shadows
no creeking wood
no killer
words mangled
and twisted
and cut
fall out of history
silent lies
treachery
like a virus
poisons the truth
hides the light
grips the throat of all those who knew
and every breath reminds them
until their last
that they were seduced
by evil
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
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
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC
What would be the worth
of a day waltzing around
our favorite city
in our best suits and dresses
only to die suddenly
like the Kennedy curse?
I’d wear my Jackie O. glasses,
and you’d greet the public
like John F. on campaign,
never to know the tragedy
that was about to happen.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
Garage-sale-picked for 5 Washingtons
the American Eagle patch was fading
like my eyes every time
I see Hillary Clinton,
Bill Clinton’s wife,
the former first lady,
the liar,
whoever she really is,
hits the debate stage.
The jacket was worth a pretty penny,
but with the market crash,
the seller is lucky i even paid her cash.
Credit is how 58 million billion dollars
of debt came to ruin America’s
perfect JFK looking face
in exchange for a growing
tumor-like deficit.
Maybe I’m too subjective,
a conservative.
I’m mean could Hilary be so bad?
Or Bernie?
Or even Putin?
I just wanted a cheap jacket.
I just wanted something that
was mine and wasn’t ruined,
but the patch was fading,
like my faith in making our
America, country, United States,
better than the past.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
#
*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*
#
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
I remember watching
Back in 1963
A Presidential funeral
There on my tv
My son watched his son
And he saw me cry
Then my son looked up and said
"Why did he have to die?"
Five years passed, a Memphis death
Was felt throughout the land
My son watched this and said to me
"I do not understand"
I looked at him, looked at the ground
And looked high into the sky
My son, said "Dad please tell me?"
"Why did he have to die?"
Again that summer, sixty eight
We stood along the track
We watched the train go past us
We knew he wasn't coming back
My son, a little older
watched as I tried not to cry
He said "it's ok to feel that dad"
"Why did he have to die?"
Years went by and he grew up
Got married moved away
I remember sitting watching
On that warm September day
Two Towers tumbled to the ground
My heart broke, and I cried
My son, went in to save them
"Why did he have to die?"
I'll never get an answer
Till the angel's song is sung
"Why did he have to die?" I'll ask
Why do the good die young?
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
let's pause...
media makes minds
slander glow.
forget flaws...
endless signs
their ubiquitous flow.
the heat is on...
it's benign
all round the globe.
dancing with the stars...
literally speaking
will be his next show.
abort the mission
the race can't count down from 10
heed submission
time clocks are wearin' thin
acts of contrition
your cock's meanderin'
history books
can't help but mention sin
a crispy crook
tan with an orangish blend
can we look
inside our never end
for we've been duped
as most are ignorant
cool aid troupes
think that their relevance
succeeds truth
loud talk small like the wren
please drive a coupe
and release more documents.........
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 2:48 AM UTC
hush now hush now
don't you speak
Sammy's gonna' make sure
it don't leak
quiet now quiet now
don't you chat
snap your pretty neck
you ***** little rat
go to sleep go to sleep
what's your line
shoulda' made copies
for the news at nine
hit the road hit the road
my sweet little rose
no one ever listens
to dancers and ho's
knock em' dead knock em' dead
one two three
leave it all to Lyndon, Edgar and me
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 9:59 PM UTC
Bill knew the facts;
He lies abed.
Lifts up his eyes
to the shadeless
naked light bulb.
The Bay of Pigs,
that fiasco in 61.
Kennedy was ******
Castro survived.
The Agency
out to get him:
Pres JFK,
not Castro yet.
Conspiracy
they call it now.
A turkey shoot,
to take him out.
Bill had met him
in the White House,
good looking dude,
had talked briefly.
22nd
of November
year 63.
Bill lies smoking.
Framed Lee Oswald,
the patsy, then
taken him out.
Bill sighs out smoke:
Warren report
a ****** whitewash.
Cover up their
collective ***
Bill was young then,
a young green horn.
Then came black ops:
Other places,
other people.
Those arranged deaths,
those “suicides”,
set up protests
in foreign fields,
regime changes.
Bill recalls now
that **** agent
in East Berlin.
Held her down firm
in the washhouse.
That spy in Rome
who had a fall
Bill had arranged.
Time past time gone.
Bill watches smoke
Grey white twisting
on the ceiling.
Long ago now.
Little conscience;
Little feeling.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses." ~JFK
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
With a little bit of bleach and a rounded xss
they think they can be Marilyn Monroe
but never strive high enough to **** a JFK,
instead they're down on their knees for a Trump
refreshing their Instagram.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
It's 12:03am on a Tuesday morning
And all I can think about
Is what it would be like,
If I were Marilyn Monroe,
And you were JFK.
If we were closeted lovers,
Or one-time pleasure seekers.
If you were a *******
If I were a *** symbol.
If we could be anything more than
Friends.
Acquaintances.
Strangers...
It's 12:07am and you're probably sleeping,
Arms wrapped around your Jackie O.
And I know I keep saying
I don't need you,
But this ceiling fan is ****** company,
And **** do I want you.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
she said she’d wait forever
so she took the pills and
chased them down with fine wine,
picked up the phone
and waited till the end
for you to pick up the line.
was it selfish?
was it romantic?
was it kind?
she was a wet dream come to life,
she would have been such a prize.
a hand on the curve of her hip-
you couldn’t handle it.
there were
grainy photos of you both,
some fancy motel
maybe by the name of
the shangri-la.
there are moments you can see
just how deep her sadness stretched
inside of her,
just how deep her need stretched
inside of her,
for you.
there are state of the unions
adresses and inaugural china.
long lasting feasts.
she might as well have just been
the lady hiding in the cake,
the lady singing you to sleep.
everybody’s wet dream
could’ve been a reality
for you.
she said she’d wait forever
and you probably passed it off as histrionics.
and maybe you couldn’t live
with that sort of guilt.
she said she’d wait forever
so she did.
she picked up the phone,
pills and fine wine.
waited for you in this world
and ready to wait until the end of time.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC