Only one man who went on
the magnificent stage himself
on there, he played his
all time guitar and sings nonstop
action, he got his own
kind of style of fame, he wrote
many and dozen songs in
his time of Rock & Roll of pop
and part of blues and jazz
and vibe on country too, he got
the rhythm of moves as
well, he dressed up so easily
enough of stylish clothes
and suits each other, he came
from the modern 20th
century of his own career, he made
into the hall of fame, his
love was fulfilled, he was the
best songwriters in his
own culture of pride and joy, he
live of his life forever,
he actually took and taken a good
decent path of freedom and
wisdom, he still be the true
king of pop rock any day
long, he sang enchanted voice
in the misty winds of
feathers, he drink his iced cold
Pepsi in can and bottle
either too, into his free time of his
own moment to flesh, he
take a stroll to the ongoing park
in Memphis, Tennessee, he
sat his old wooden bench alone
of his days like anything,
he wrote a decent love poem
on his notebook with a ink
of pen, The End
Written by
Michael James Brindley
1-15-16
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