The world lost a unique individual with the death of Michael Jackson. A brilliant dancer, singer, recording artist, he epitomized what it was to be a star. An incandescent talent, so brilliant he burned out long before what the world would have wanted of him could eventuate.
Unfortunately he wasn’t the first brilliant talent whose life was snatched away long before his time. It happens so often I am tempted to think that talent such as his could have been just too much to bear.
Or perhaps the fact of precocious talent is more of a curse than a blessing. So often stars seem to attract the destructive; like moths to a flame. How many times have we seen such people attach themselves to the star like leeches, sucking the lifeblood out of them.
How often has the talented individual been forced to live in a world of fantasy, divorced from the reality we all know and accept. The fact of their stardom makes it impossible for them to do simple things like buy a hamburger, or walk down the street and drop in somewhere for coffee. I saw part a an interview Michael did with Barbara Walters where he stated this very thing. He couldn’t do what normal people did.
The rumours of his dependence on prescription drugs is an all too common story for these individuals who pay the ultimate price for their fame. They lose their identity and are forced to live the fantasy they create. How tragic.
I admired Michael Jackson for his brilliance. I felt for him as he struggled to emerge from childhood. I don’t know that he ever succeeded.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation I wish him happiness in his new identity.
Live well
Ollie Lind
PS I shall now write a poem to try to express my perspective on a remarkable human being.
The Man
The crowd is tense, the stage is bare.
They look to see, no one is there.
A light snaps on, he stands chest bare.
A wraith like image, they catch his stare.
The music starts, a pulsing rhyme,
His body sways and moves in time.
His hands are raised, his voice, it soars
The crowd ignites, as one it roars.
His dancing, moving like no other,
sends daughters screaming for their mother.
He gives his all, his heart and soul
His music makes the young feel whole.
The lights go dim, he moves away,
To show his magic another day.
The toll it takes no one can see
To be the best for you and me.
All his life he’s had to bear
The load of always being there.
To give his life, his heart and soul
Exposed to all, as in a bowl.
No chance to simply be himself,
Forever being on the shelf.
He cannot do the simple things,
Like simple folk, no joy it brings.
Why should he be the one to pay
The price of fame, to fade away?
So very soon before his time
Too soon, for him the bell did chime.
Star
People who read The Man also read:
The Artist
There are some people I know who tell me they are not creative at all.
To those people I can never explain the joy you feel when you create something. Well, this poem may go some way to answering that.
Softly
When I was a child I pondered occasionally on death (if you are honest, we all do at some time or another) and I wondered what death, if he were an individual or entity of some sort, would think. The following poem offers a perspective.
Virtue
I have always found it ironic how we tend to judge others on our personal views of virtue. We rush to criticize and yet, so often, merely reinforce our own prejudice.
Listening
There comes a time in every man’s life where he is alone. Sometimes this is a time of peace and reflection. Other times it is anything but.
Torment
Everyone on the planet has a dark side. Occasionally we have low points in our lives which threaten to overwhelm. Sometimes, in the darkest hour you gain great clarity, sometimes only despair.
Poetry is not always about beauty. We need, at times, to see darkness to appreciate light.
Goodbye Michael
A star has been plucked from the sky.
The sky is now dimmer.
It happened on June 25th.
A day, we will always remember.
Never again to see Michael’s smile light up the skies.
Never again to see him moonwalk across the stage as his fans cries.
Never again to hear him sing Billie Jean.
To the roaring sound of his fans’ screams.
A brother of the sun has been taken away.
But in our hearts his music will always stay.
Michael Jackson will now dance among the clouds.
And in the heavens, you will still hear him singing loud and proud.
Well said Lamar
Regards,
Ollie
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