On This Day in American History - The Manson Family killed five people, including pregnant Sharon Tate, in the home of movie director Roman Polanski in Beverly Hills, California. August 9, 1969.
In the shadowed hills of Beverly,
Where dreams once danced so free,
A darkness fell on that fateful night,
When innocence met terror's blight.
Charles Manson, a twisted mind,
A prophet of chaos, far from kind,
Gathered souls with honeyed lies,
Promising a world beyond the skies.
Born in the cold of Cincinnati's steel,
His heart knew nothing of love’s appeal.
A childhood lost in prison walls,
A future where only darkness calls.
In the Summer of Love, he found his place,
Among the lost, a devil’s embrace.
In California’s sun, a commune was made,
Where Manson's twisted dreams would invade.
He preached of doom, of a coming war,
A race-fueled chaos, blood, and gore.
The Beatles’ songs, his gospel pure,
A delusion of hate, no one could cure.
One night in August, a fateful day,
His followers set out to slay.
Roman Polanski, not in his home,
But Sharon Tate would be left alone.
A starlet bright, with child in womb,
Would meet her fate in that darkened room.
With friends around, they fought in vain,
As Manson’s madness brought them pain.
Blood was spilled, in crimson waves,
Marking the end of lives so brave.
The screams that echoed in the night,
Would haunt the world with endless fright.
Yet Manson's thirst was not yet done,
For two more souls would soon be gone.
The LaBiancas, in their home so still,
Would fall to the blade of Manson's will.
Though he did not wield the knife,
Manson's words were death's own fife.
His hands were clean, but stained in red,
For he had led the living to the dead.
The world awoke to a nightmare real,
A madness they could not conceal.
Manson was caught, his mind unhinged,
As justice sought to have him singed.
In court, he raved, a demon caged,
His madness on display, enraged.
The sentence came, a final blow,
Death, but life in prison’s woe.
The years would pass, but memory stays,
Of Manson’s dark, chaotic days.
A symbol now of evil's face,
In history's shadowed, cursed place.
Helter Skelter, the words would say,
A twisted tale that led astray.
Manson's name, forever known,
A mark on time, with madness sown.
But in that darkness, light shall rise,
For truth and justice never dies.
And though the night was filled with fear,
The dawn would break, the skies would clear.
Charles Manson, now dust in the earth,
A life that knew no love or worth.
But the world remembers, and will not forget,
The night when innocence paid the debt.