Friday, July 10, 2009

'Kid' of Pop

It echoes still, the retro chimes;

In my mind, deep the music plays.

Taking me to those days of fun;

when mama made sure you drank your milk;

and my neighbour Vinci made it a point;

I woke up swaying to his morning raga,

‘Beat it’ lines from one Mr Jackson; man!

I took shape, those years that rocked,

the Billie Jean and Thriller scores;

gave my legs the freedom I know.

I could never do the moonwalk bit,

but I sure could dance, who wouldn’t;

when Jacko snapped his fingers once;

it was disco time, it still is; dude!

I didn’t know who Jackson was;

I was a kid who could sway, not think.

Mama told me, he sure can dance;

I saw him too, through the tube once;

VHS it was, Middle East gift;

my uncle’s version of rocking town,

coming back with bucks off Black Gold.

Now I know a bit of this;

how Jacko tried to get it back.

While I played soccer with pals at school;

he played hard ball in a grown up world,

doing the rounds as Jackson Five;

scarred he was the rest of his life,

from missing years of senseless fun.

Glitz, glamour and cheering fans;

he loved this world, or so we thought.

The only thing he wanted was,

to get those years back, be a kiddo at home.

He was amused by the lights and bucks;

but was never at ease in all the fame,

and drowned himself with killers of pain.

Neverland, he lived his dream,

but the life he lost was forever gone;

from wonder to a walking freak,

we made him so, we selfish men.

We just wanted to dance to him;

and never could see the withered hands;

covered by the whitest of gloves.

This is the tale of the King who was,

a child trapped in a man’s face; broken mask.

He died shattered, misery I heard;

living a life he started to hate.

Angel of sorts, Oh that he was;

made us gay with his soul, his voice;

'Kid', not King of Pop; play at least on heaven’s floors.

(To Michael Jackson)


Sangee said...

Les, I was wondering what comment to leave. I have been reading your blog for a while but never could make much sense of it. When we study literature and especially poetry, there are often study materials which help you undertand what you may not in your personal reading of the lines.
In this case, when I would understand one line, the other would beat me.
However, this one doesn't need any explanation. We all know what you are talking about and who you are talking about.
I'll make it short....
This is one of the best tributes I've read or heard to the King, or should I say, Kid of Pop.
The glimpses into your childhood make it sweeter.
Keep it going, dude.

jisha said...

Really a gr8 tribute Les..