richard ilnicki

(2-25-45 / Austin Texas)

Michael Jackson: His Remains


They referred to his 'pronounced dead' body
as his remains. These Neanderthals
were obviously unfamiliar with the english language;
they'd probably never learned to read or write
Music.
What could these men, whose souls had been cannibalized
by mortality, these dead cauliflower ears,
possibly know about
the sovereign sound of infinity,
the sound of the bounce of the moon off the knee of a child?
What could they know
about that mysteriously orchestrated catalogue of cacophony,
to them,
that becomes a symphony of heavenly chords
in the hands of the maestro,
beats
that cause involuntary knee-jerk reactions
and the incendiary desire to dance,
to do the Moon Walk on earth
even if you posssesed two left feet?

Don't these mortals know? Can't they recognize
when they have come into the presence of a king?
Couldn't they see his obvious crown of a black cat hat
tilted on his creative head
filled with gentleness and kindness
never to be removed by any indiscretion
of the flesh;
its ignoble desire to quench the spirit, a mind
filled with g-clefs, flats, and sharps of love
that were neither black nor white,
chords meant to bind-up the broken-hearted?
Couldn't they see that all he really wanted was
to set the captives free?

Why can't they recognize
in this body of flesh and blood
that even the Bad things about him
were merely designed to make him human?
Why don't we, our sinful selves, look into the eyes of
'The Man In The Mirror'
and see what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
Don't you know it's close to midnight,
and that no one is going to save you
from the beat that is about to strike?

Exactly, what remains are you referring to?
Flesh and blood?
Muscle and sinew?
Lungs and liver?
Certainly not the heart!
You can't possibly mean the heart
as that hollow, muscular, contractile organ
that will someday stop beating.
Beat It, Man!

What would you prefer to do
with the way he made the world think, feel, believe
and hope in the goodness of the heart's lovely rhythms?
Dismiss him as the illegitimate father
of Billie Jean's child; I don't think so.
Why, you know full well
that he is the legitimate father of millions of children
who heard him singing
'We Are The World. We Are The Children'
abandoned, orphaned or otherwise.

The man is obviously majestically talented,
a Music Man, a musical genius of a man,
A Thriller of A Man,
and he will always be 'The King Of Pop.'
This king is just like his music, and his music,
just like His Remains will Remain Forever!

Submitted: Saturday, August 01, 2009
Edited: Saturday, August 01, 2009

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Comments about this poem (Michael Jackson: His Remains by richard ilnicki )

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  • Rookie - 86 Points Patti Masterman (8/2/2009 2:25:00 PM)

    I had hoped to escape Michael Jackson's remains, at least here. Still, these words
    are making me smile. I think Michael was a lamb among wolves his entire life. And, I think this poem would amuse him greatly. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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