IconElegies

My name was John Holmes. I fucked thousands of women, sometimes for money. I certainly didn't live in Wonderland. John Holmes wasn't my real name, of course. I was known for my big cock, I was the king of porn, a high school dropout, and I had the biggest dick in the business. Everything is bigger in America. I wasn't a good person, I was addicted to cocaine, violent, a criminal. I was unhappy and it destroyed me. Poet's Note. John Holmes is still one of the most famous porn actors.

I was supposed to become something, something other than the mafia. I died alone, me, Don Michael Corleone. They took my dearest, only daughter from me. I have committed many sins, killed many because I had to, my own brother, my mother's son. I guess it was right that I died alone, not even murdered, in Sicily, for which I killed. Poet's Note. Michael Corleone is a character in The Godfather series.

I knew our fate would soon be at hand, it was just a question of when. We are romantic heroes now, but our lives  were nothing more than an escape. People  just hated the banks and the authorities that we disciplined. But they won't let go. That's what outlaws are. I would have liked to be buried side by side, but our families wouldn't let us. At least we died side by side. Only death separated us. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were a legendary outlaw couple.

I only did what I was told. I had to hide behind it, because there was no other option. Emotions have no part in this. I considered myself an official of Death, An architect of destruction, but I don't want glory for this. Who would? I have no regrets, I only did what I was told. Poet's note. High-ranking Nazi Adolf Eichmann was responsible, among other things, for transports to death camps during World War II.

They still fear me, even though I'm gone. They wonder what I knew, and made my own decisions about my life. Jeffrey Epstein is still a name. And I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, even though I'm gone. Prison wasn't fun, why would I stay there, I belonged in glory, not misery. A poet's note. Jeffrey Epstein, who knew the rich and famous, is still the news of the day years after his death.  

My name is Andreas Lubitz. I woke up this morning, which I have decided will be my last. If I have enough courage, it must be enough. I was born into a life that should have been going well. I was not feeling well. I did not feel alive. I am a co-pilot. I want to fly. I cannot become a captain  if I tell you everything that I feel. What will I have left if I tell you. The cheap wings of Germany fly. We fly cheap. People are cheap. I am only interested in flying. I do not feel anything. We take off from Barcelona, ​​once again. They are coming from their cheap trip. I wonder if they have not been robbed. Barcelona is a city of crime. This has been done many times. Flight. My flight is almost over. This is a short flight. They call me inexperienced. Just go to the bathroom. I will be remembered for this act. Do I want it? I don't want it. I want it. I don't know. I have to decide, right now. I will. I will be remembered. I've always wanted to fly. I'm going crazy. I just ...

They got him, Jesus Malverde, They killed him, Jesus Malverde, the thief who took from the rich, and gave to the poor. The angel of the poor, the saint of thieves. The saint  who was not consecrated by the church, loved by the people, and hated by the rich. Poet talks:  Jesus Malverde was  kind of Robin Hood-like person. Also a narco saint. So interesting person.