Michael Jackson

Here is a poem I wrote on Michael Jackson a few days after his death.


 MJ: Wacko Jacko

The King of Pop

Child prodigy

Songster-Singer-Dancer

The Pied Piper

America’s Orpheus                                                 

Divine voice

Noble lyrics

Mesmeric dance

A wonder all his own

Idolized by millions

750 million albums sold

13 Grammy Awards

Multiple Guinness Records

Record-breaking charities

Then demonized

A black turned white

Surrogate father

Secret love child

Collapsed marriages

Child abuse

Bizarre personal life

Hyperbaric oxygen chamber

Hypochondriac

Physical and mental wreck

A fantasy figure

Bubble the champ his best friend

Owner of 2600-acre Neverland

Forced to live in oblivion

On the verge of bankruptcy

Preparing for a comeback

Suddenly dead!

Poisoned?

Murdered for money?

A medical mistake ?

Overdose of drugs?

The spirit has flown out

The body in a golden coffin

Draped in a cascade of red roses

A plastic face

Prosthetic nose, missing

A stomach
Devoid of food

Saturated with drugs

Painkillers

Sleeping pills

Body punctured with needle marks

Rumours of skin cancer

Ruined lung

Ghost sightings

An image empty of content

Yet

When he came on to the stage

The audience rocked in a trance

Became one with him

There was no MJ

No audience

Nothing but a two-way flow of energy

A seamless chaos

Of frenzy

Of forgetfulness

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