Pop had daddy, Andy--lived NYC.
A pop star with an awful wig, then the gat of Valerie[1]
Ripped him like a razor, gun went off with "pop."
She shot him in a mad attack. . .needed, a sanguine mop. Ouch!

Pop had shattered Andy--lived, luckily.
The bullet vitals organs missed, he was propped up in IC.[2]
Pop had wacky Andy, lived NYC.
A pop star with an awful wig, who was capped by Valerie.

In netherworlds he traveled, had a ghostly visage, pale.
Valerie wrote book with which she thought he'd help with sales.
Nobel Prize she'd not win; her output was inane.
Might be schiz, this grotesque hag; to pop him was insane. D'oh!

Pop had daddy, Andy--lived recklessly.
He frolicked with some gone misfits in a land called NYC.
Pop had crafty Andy, lived NYC.
A pop star with an awful wig, did soup cans, a dog called "Sleep."[3]

Ars longa, vita brevis[4]. Take van Gogh. . .dribbled moist
Paint on things that didn't bring him geld. Now bidders hoist
Up, way, price for canvas that he'd scrape then paint some more.
He popped--post-slice-ear--sternum; his pieces' prices soar.

Ere death Andy had more dough than Vince. . .much more fame,
But he succumbed to a healthcare system. . .scary shame.
Snuffed out, his life did end, Pop's star can't be saved.
So Pop's mightiest emblem, sadly, slipped into his grave. Woe.

Pop had daddy, Andy. Kicked, NYC.
A pop star with an awful wig, to the hospital went he.
Pop had daddy, Andy; prematurely
He bought it in the awful mess of the scam called "managed c[are]."



[1]Solanas
[2]Intensive Care
[3]Film that monitors poet John Giorno sleeping for six hours
[4]Art is long, life is short