Poem By Christopher Towsley
I realized that they had totally carried it out,
I mean that magic bullet theory,
carried way too much clout.
They could have had the Warren Commission,
committed.
They had unlimited ceiling power.
They had a license to lie,
I really knew it,
when My eight year-old said,
“Who really killed that JFK Guy?
Who really killed them,
killed them all?
Some had a heart attack,
some just had a fall.
Then one evening,
around the kitchen in this hotel,
they made the winner a loser,
so that nobody could tell.
And it finally struck Me,
that if they had so much then,
just imagine the power,
they have now, and again.
And it must be quite the thing,
to know that you must get to the truth,
only to be told,
“this is getting really old”
“and you just don’t have the proof”.
Somehow in My mind,
I get a picture of a guy and his girlfriend,
in a small plane,
over Nantucket,
His vow to find the truth,
ended with an air to air,
rocket.
Apparently the wreckage was lost at sea,
or any part that would have made a difference,
to the publicity,
and little boys will continue to ask,
and wonder why,
they’ll say, “Dad why don’t We really know
Who killed,
that JFK Guy?”
