Lennon gunned....

Lennon gunned....

John got shot that’s what he got, he
didn’t ask for the bullet that killed him.
I liked him a lot, well the songs that he
sung, I somehow identified with them.

The world he would stun,
when he fired that gun.
An insignificant little man,
with an insidious plan.
To jail he would go,
newfound fame that would grow,
just another malcontent
regrettably human.

He was a bit shy like me,
now he’s free
from people with guns
or unjust hatred.
He was a star a millionaire,
with his own style in hair,
now with a death understated.

In jail he’d still live,
a man with nothing to give.
Planning to write a book,
I hoped no one would look.
He shouldn’t profit from killing,
not a pound or a shilling,
why make a rich man
out of a cringing crook.

We feel so his loss,
but his songs do engross,
Thousands of young people
who still care.
It gets easier with time,
others try to mime,
But when he did it,
he done it with real flair.

I try to write fairly,
but my anger comes early.
Can’t stop thinking,
what else he could have wrote.
Then I think of his killer,
his body in a concrete pillar,
I’d put him there,
after ripping out his unvocal throat.