The Burning Jacksons.......... Poem by lalitha iyer

The child was lovely
born with a flood of kids
with golden tongue
and silky steps
the beauty of music
brimming in those looks
the coal black crown
of shining hair
intelligent eyes
full of eloquent melodies
they were Jacksons
and he stole our heart
the sweetest one
the boy who won
this world
and flew to other

God's country it is
yes, Africa is God's own infantry
there the babies
boom and bloom
exploding wombs;

God's own children
they grow up
wealthy and healthy
with nature's might;

All wonders
in one human
he could sing
he could dance
he could fancy
anything in the world of frenzy
passionate
pumping blood full of drugged galaxies

yet, the twinkling star
at the height of fames
dwindling life energies
did not realise
all that glitters
should come to an end
when the light and heat dissipates
dark holes appear
he became dark holed

injected with drugs
defamed Smug
the golden goose
was slaughtered
done for once
with all killer whales

whose hand is not stained
in ending up our King
who acted behind the scenes
to wind up the singing thrill
who crashed across the tower
Crores fetched fantasies
Fans etched fatal thrones
Now, he is back
returning to his Father's Home
the Prodigal Son
who was made the Pop King
by hands unclean
and hearts uneven

The beauty of music
the elegance of dancing
the art of balancing
the symmetric harmony
everything lost to flames soon
pinching life pulled back
throbbing pains wiped away
truth of life once again knells

It is not yours
you come and go
sing and dance
laugh and play
joke and regale
the spirit is above
watching your being
You are a beggar
in a mansion of alms
Beggars could not be Choosers
King of Kings he had a doc
but doctrine of life not.