End Of An Era, December 8th, 1980 (for John Lennon)
In seclusion for many years and about to reemerge.
About to outrage the establishment again?
About to wake up the youth again?
You, more popular than the JC water walker,
the walrus, the artist, musician, humorist, writer, and
political activist---“Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives.”
However, there is another player on the scene, currently off stage, but busy,
shuttling around to Beirut, Maui, Ft. Worth, Dekalb County, Fort Chaffee.
Crimes in Florida? Fled to Hawaii?
The Mark is busy, provided with money, credit cards, plane tickets, expensive art,
he is told he will be an important person, on an important mission, he has a date with destiny.
The clandestine world is turning its secretive wheels,
the military hospital in Hawaii is active.
A born again Christian is reborn into a new role and getting ready for his big premier.
He's been programmed, taught to shoot, provided a gun and transported to his destination.
The Death Valley President is about to take office with his sinister vice president, the one connected to all the undercover operations and assassinations of the past 20 years.
The arms industry is anticipating big profits with a sympathetic right winger in the Oval. Population reduction in El Salvador, Guatemala, then on to bigger fish to fry.
Except the man about to reemerge, to come out of a long family sabbatical, could easily toss a wrench in the gears of their wars.
All he has to say is “We're giving a free concert for PEACE in D.C.”
MILLIONs of young people from all over the world would come.
That is power, and that is scary to the insane people with their insane objectives.
Their Mark arrives in the Big Apple on the 5th, stays at another expensive hotel,
with no job, no visible means of support,
yet he has plenty of money,
it just mysteriously comes to him.
3 days later, the walrus is dead and the Mark is ready to play his role of patsy,
the others involved are not mentioned and quickly forgotten,
the threat to mass bloodshed for profit is gone.
The youth return to their slumber, even as they hold a candle light vigil in front of the Dakota,
even as they sing “Give Peace A Chance.”
It wasn't given much of a chance,
now that he's gone,
and the era has ended.
Bright Son (for Aaron Swartz)
You made us smile with your mind and its great feats.
We knew you had the gift to see where others could not
and make from the things around you something much finer indeed.
You knew the truth of living and lived with the purpose of truth.
Setting the people free and changing the way rights were being undone.
Making it whole again, making it a better place for all,
giving the people the power to empower themselves.
Information for all, scared words to guide the thoughts of a generation and its actions.
And they watched, they approached, they tried to lead you away from your mission.
Tried to buy your attention and mind—which could not be bought, which was even more brilliant, more insightful, more powerful in the realm of the future than their diseased world could ever be.
They watched and then they began their wheels moving, the wheels of their awful machine,
rolling over top of you, rolling over top of all of us.
You were hung out, drained and hung, and twisted until they felt relief of your passing.
We lost a shining light the day you died.
Lost to political beards, corporate bribes, liquidators of hidden ones who keep us servile.
Such a brilliant light had shone the way.
But now it was gone, gone, our bright son.
Pilot Error (for John F. Kennedy Jr.)
They said it was your fault, they said it was a miscalculation, spatial disorientation.
Forget the bomb in the tail of the plane, forget “that”, “that” wasn't mentioned,
you'd need to see the classified report to know about “that.”
Sister warned, don't run, you'll end up like father.
You wouldn't listen. The Democrats knew,
“My goodness, he plans to run for president as an independent next election!”
No, that would upset too many apple carts,
upset too many stakeholders in the political cesspool.
And yes, “those” others found out and put a stop to it.
Pilot error perhaps, but not in the plane.
You'd just met with the men who knew the scoop, who filled you in, and you planned to expose “those” responsible for their crimes against your father over 30 years ago.
But “those” characters don't leave you alone, they watch and wait,
and listen to the wind on the ides of March or in your case July.
So you trusted in fate to deliver you safely, never trust her, she will surprise you.
You wanted to become an actor, but mama didn't approve. No my son, it is The Law for you.
Another who passed the bar joked about your failing twice, but then he wanted to be a lawyer, never wanted to be anything other, not like you.
When they say pilot error, when they say three bodies, when there were four aboard. You told a friend your instructor was going with you. When they cover the trail to truth, I think of your lovely wife in her
third trimester pregnant, the fetus a boy, your unborn son.
Then I think of another son standing with his mother and sister on a cold November morning saluting a horse drawn carriage with flag draped coffin. Such handsome qualities, such a keen and playful mind. Different in many ways from his father, yet cut from the same cloth and destined to meet same end.
