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Posted on July 27, 2010 at 4:40 AM

They still pretend JFK

Was blown away by the

Lone gunman; insist they’re

Fighting the good fight


Still, says Bill, holding

One of his guns, just for

Show of course, to impress

The fellers that come round


For sex and partying. Don’t

Trust what you read or what

They tell you, boy, the big

Name deaths were all planned


And patsies put in place and

Set up in a kind of trap to take

The killing rap. Bob Kennedy,

King, others too, Bill remembers,


Sitting and looking out of the

Hotel window, blowing at the

Gun, cowboy fashion, watching

A young man by his car, hands


On hips, smoking a cigar, nice

Hair, hands, eyes. When the

Truth comes out a good part

Of U.S. history will need to


Be rewritten, if it ever does

Come out, and who knows

What will come out or when

Or what it’ll say and the whole


Darn circus blown wide away.

Bill puts his gun away. Enough

Playacting for the day. His dreams

Repeat themselves: killing, bombs,


Undermining governments, putting

Up straw bosses, hiding the war

Losses, pretending, lying, forging,

Misrepresenting the innocent dying.


Need a good shafting; some young

Buck, rent boy, drink booze, smoke

And try to forget. No time for a

Conscience, no place for regret.



Categories: Poetry & Lyric, Terry Collett

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