Jibberish...

The hinges squeak though oiled well and often - sounds like hissing as they speak, listen closely and you'll hear turning in the coffin. Pretty make up on the veil soothes the hunger of for the spotlight, their world is staged and their limos trained to park bright - with looks to kill they aim from script more so than often worth a thousand yards of glare as cameras flash flood the night.

Remember why you're here, the camera's there and it's a monster -

Oh how we anxiously wait to rubber neck the speeding train to finally wreck and when we miss (as we often do) we recreate through rear-views using hollywood super glue.

Striking iron hot until it melts into a pot from which the kettle gets the black of which we fade from the first act. The intermission is a story of what you need and where to buy it carpet bagging the finest dreams - you'll flip to try it (one dimensional acrobats): Stickman, Stick-woman how fly you are , You're now produced to die bizarre. From black to blue your eyes are read and tossed aside into the web - and the fans will blow until they see red and from hatchlings grow into the finest thread which mother spider spins a song so sweet it sticks (can't help to sing along).

We watch ourselves wreck gawking at the crash of the brightest of stars - blinded by the glare of the fame in lights, attentions are herded into a dark parade of vulgarity; bleeding hearts on ragged sleeves with our heads upon a plate - oh how we're loved by the spiders...

How we crave to mourn the dearly departed; I must be the sole occupant of a very high and lengthy limb - the unexpected death of Michael Jackson has spurred a stampede of voices that though at the present appear to be genuine with grief were conveniently absent during the allegations of child molestation. The swell of interest in the MJ phenomena makes me wonder why we assemble over soap operatic occurrences such as the passing of a loved one albeit a celebrity yet the day to day grind that we encounter at all facets from all walks of life doesn't yield the same results. Faintly the image of bridges being crossed in peace appear in the background of our lives -

- Back to MJ. The memorials and specials that I happened to see in bits and pieces had an opportunistic element about them; the way we grieve varies from person to person , you and I both know this - but the events that were to commemorate seemed ladened with distasteful homages with a few honest respects being paid beneath "The Show"...

Maybe I'm calloused and not in tune - or maybe I am in tune to a frequent scene that prevails via an auditory smoke and mirrors; though the initial request per Randy Jackson was for the press to respect the Jackson family during their moment of grief - the spectacle that followed within the blink of an eye was something to scrutinize: Michael's daughter crying at the podium was too much for me to buy - as adults we know that our children will handle the loss of love dearly and by all means MJ's children should've been spared from the camera and all media until it settled somewhat into the scope of a child's understanding. Pay tribute with song by real singers, Brooke Shields doesn't sing don't show her doing so - and I remember the era that her and MJ we're rumored to be dating and how she pretty much dissed him to the press to distance herself from him career wise (don't ask me why but at the time maybe her publicist thought it to be a good move). The exaggerated sorrow was indeed Oscar worthy by some - again, where were they when MJ was on trial; couldn't character witnesses of such credible "stars" help dissolve what very well may have been a "witch hunt" of sorts.

None the less - I have revisited past performances by MJ that may have faded into the obscurity of my world internet and cable whose ingredients are an endless well of time absorbing stimuli. MJ was a great performer and could sing his ass off no matter the conditions - unlike the prima dons and donnas that litter the airwaves with just a hint of his ability. Though I favored Prince throughout the "Who's better" debate that will still carry on long after both men have departed the face of the Earth - I can't deny how dope MJ was; another ripple of aggravation stems from those who swim only the shallow end of a very deep pool of music that MJ is responsible for; few reach into the "Off the Wall" LP and most only cite "Thriller" and "Billy Jean" from the album "Thriller" - but with "This Place Hotel" (Triumph), "Don't stop til you get enough"- "Rock with You"- "Off the Wall" (Off the Wall), "Wanna be startin' somethin'"- "P.Y.T." - "Human Nature" (Thriller) and the plethora of hits that ensued I don't want to hear Thriller, Billy Jean, Bad but the Raw MJ that put it down outside the fragile grasp of MTV and BET...