mj tribute

Even these words I type in the aftermath are a far too calculated attempt to capture the raw emotions that overwhelmed my mind and body when my mother broke the news.
Ironically she alerted in her native tongue, which on most days I struggle to comprehend, but the death of Michael Jackson transcends, impacting the world. My brothers accounts of Jackson sounded mythical, like long legends, but now the world is pop legend less.
Death, the simplest word to read, yet hardest one to grasps had me feeling so……awkward for lack of a better term. It wasn’t as though I didn’t feel like everyone elses facebook status, but even my usual urge to let the ink bleed was tempered by this surreal state of being. I was discovering that the news coverage and not the actual news was making me kind of… angry.
The contrived expressions of remorse felt about as authentic as one of those news anchors trying to Moonwalk. My biggest problem with America is that it’s the constant counter puncher, always reacting to the harshest blows adequately, but never taking precaution to avoid them in the first place. I’m sick of the world’s wrongs being accepted as right. Sick of the insatiable being coerced into my mouth, and being told that’s just how life is.. I’m just mad that it had to take death for people to look past the face and inside the musical soul that Michael possessed. The menacing media needs a facelift as its distorted attempts to save face in the wake of Jackson’s death garner anomalous feelings. It was the media who sought to dehumanize him and portray him as a monster, but now its their incessant attempts to belittle that haunts my ability to remember his life.
The BET and MTV marathons were running away from the way they had previously presented Jackson to a younger generation. It’s as if after only after his passing his named had earned legitimacy, because legitimately, I can’t remember those stations bringing up his name unless it was the part of a joke. They are party responsible for the stigma attached to his name, the void that a younger generation has in understanding the power of Michael Jackson’s music. So their attempt to make me remember the times, only had my mind remembering the punch lines, and the unprecedented scrutiny that MJ had been under for most of my lifetime.
No doubt, Michael had a lot that were far too visible. I had become adept to were the jokes and spectacle that replaced the genius and prodigal image that Michael Jackson once represented. But all it took was a couple songs to make me become sentimental, for my eyes to engage in battle to fight off tears.
The scary thing is that it wasn’t a classic, or one of those songs that made you really remember Mike. My oversensitive self was getting teary eyed listening to “You Rock My World.” The emptiness came back, bullying my usually jovial spirits and the pit of my stomach became filled with guilt. I wanted to partake in the remembrance, wanted to relive his classics, wanted to remember exactly he became a global icon. But why did he have to die to make me understand, what I should’ve never taken for granted. God’s gifts. Now people claim he left to early, but he left on God's time.

nothing

nothing to write
nothing to say
not feelin right
and its the same every day

wake up
work
no play
cuz when we make up
it doesnt work
and we go back to the same old ways
we bicker
fight
ignore the issues
then i get sicker
of sittin tight
and lookin for tissues