IDOL

He never wrenched from his anguish-filled soul a number one billboard success,
The lyrics and inference made society guess.
How his mind-controlling rhythm worked,
Where the deepest secrets of his murky mind lurked.

He was a felon angel and all the contradictions it applies,
Beauty and genius impressed him the most,
While others who let themselves change would boast,
Of their expensive society buys.

He went into medical shock,
After seizures as result of the rock.
He taught me to taste the blood of torrents of tears,
That came from the suppression of years.
The guitar he taught the passage of fingers,
Letting me find the beat that lingers far below the simple lesson.

And when I was grouped as the devil of the earth,
Another feeling took birth,
To let others around me see,
What the gift he had done to me.

From death's groping claws I learned ethereal were the images and beat,
And now his tool became his only defeat.
When he last closed his eyes,
My sensation and feeling also dies.

In concert he was genuine,
Crying, shaking, on my desire he would dine.

In death he was alone, without care,
Because his crazy insightful person was too much for another to bear.
To others he had too much but need more strength,
The pain he bore for the world was too much for anyone at length.
And his pitiful pleas gave him power over all people,
For me he replaced the church bells and steeple.

He was impulsive and moved with the ball,
Even with legends in the largest venue and hall
In death he has left here,
A haunting vision, one album so mere.

But in influence and hope,
And from heaven he throws down a rope.
For the one who mimics his skill,
His shoes for a million men to try to fill.

He used to ride in the backseat when he went through town,
Soon I will reach his untouchable pinnacle, and his dream-wrenching, killing
boom magnitude sound.

by R. P., Kinnelon, NJ