An Elegy for Michael Jackson

Posted: August 28, 2010 in Poetry

What is the point of
Concerning ourselves
About the death of a
Popstar? Men and women
Endure incremental death
Every day. I see
Them. On the conveyor belt
Getting bashed, smashed, crushed, and
Condensed into insane
And machine-minded cubes
Of frozen ground beef
Cursed and compelled to buy, sell
And labor
For the rest of their days

He was
Only mortal, and that’s
What we mortals do
We die
From the slow-death cooker
Our bodies and souls
Get lowered into the cleansing
Dirt (Let us at least thank
The gods for that)
And no cartoon character—
No false god—
No real god—
No Disneyland—
No lie—
Will give our
Bleached boiled souls
No matter how absurdly
And sadistically we
Wish for it

* Originally posted on Haggard and Halloo on August 2, 2009

** If you’re really into this poem, check out its original link: . There are some interesting, but mean, comments there. Most of them I deserve. For me, in a way, the comments really complete the poem.


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