love song of a fallen rockster...

The beats fell like coins
soft pedals on drums...with points
to prove perhaps just in time
walls white scented lime
could not stop a Jason Bourne
from falling a victim to a system torn
by infighting...corruption and greed
sharp shootings that every day lead
to blood bath on ice...
still a flower somewhere does a bee entice...

The beats fell fast...flippant
gasping hearts for air pant
and those trees also so white
bloodless life like hang in sight
in terms of too apparent a matyrdom
still bloom at my backyard flowers some...

flowers red as blood
of pure pride and privy to all conflicts
with petals as imprints of her last kiss on my cheeks...


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