Marowlean…

Who’s to say what happiness is?
For lives filled with what crappiness is?
Smoking crack and shooting heroin –
killing themselves just like Marilyn…
Or Norma Jean, to Elton….

Poor Norma Jean, candle in the wind…
snorting things and drinking gin….
taking pills in Hollywood Hills –
Life just wasn’t good enough….
What chance do we poor schmucks have?

Your candle isn’t blowing hard enough Marilyn –
Your voice is silent of angelic carolling Marowleeeean…
And so they’re still dying Herald Queeeeeen.
Even Einstein couldn’t stop that.
Did you blow him too?

Did Jack kill you?  Was it Bobby?
Edgar or Lyndon?
Or was it Jackie –
who lived with your birthday song after Camelot…
Weeping on his grave…
For her family?
In a blood stained pink dress…

No……
It was you,
selfish bitch.

Who does weep upon your grave?
Of all those who visit –
those who just want to say they did….?
Or does your beauty last in your coffin?
Your coffin coffin coffin…
Beauty beauty coffin…
Death death death….
That is all you are.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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