A Murder Mystery

 

A poem by Chrome Dome Mike Kimbro

 

Consider reading along to my Spoken Verse Performance!

 

 

Just set a meeting to discuss my screen play:

 

“A pretty girl is killed by the man she loves.”

 

It’s sad, but in the reality of TV today,

 

It’s murder that viewers can’t get enough of.

 

 

I once wrote a story which was free of alibis,

 

But no studio would spend a dime on it.

 

Cause unless someone dies, and the ‘perp’ fries,

 

It won’t be watched, and that’s the crime of it.

 

 

In Scottsdale lived a guy named Kummerlowe

 

Who followed murder with bath tub dissection.

 

Arizona’s governor once tried to let him go,

 

And it cost her a sure re-election.

 

 

The Tombstone Chamber of Commerce knows,

 

If all the men who left that corral were OK,

 

There wouldn’t be all those Wyatt Earp shows,

 

And only javelinas would visit Tombstone today.

 

 

Dallas, Texas is the place to go,

 

If you really want to feel a chill.

 

As you stand atop the grassy knowle,

 

You’ll grieve the loss of JFK still.

 

 

Then walk over to the Sixth Floor Museum,

 

It’s not a place to go to have fun, man.

 

From there, with eyes closed, maybe you see him.

 

The ghostly form of a second gunman.

 

 

Dinner’s done and it’s time for something sweet.

 

Like a yummy piece of pie a la mode.

 

But millions will settle on a low cal treat,

 

A Miami CSI episode.

 

 

But when I’m the guy holding the remote,

 

The choice of channels isn't up for a vote.

 

We’re watchin’ shows about sports or history,

 

Or dancing or singing or the friggin’ Love Boat.

 

I don’t care, but not a murder mystery.

 

The End

 

Copyright © Michael Kimbro 2014.  All rights reserved.