Because this day, the 29th of August, would have been his 51st Natal Day, I thought I'd share the following:

"We Had Him ... A Poem for Michael Jackson by Maya Angelou

Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon. In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tide with the abrupt absence of our treasure..Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him. He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that. He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his. We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes. His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us. And we laughed and stomped our feet for him. We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given. Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square. In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England...

We are missing Michael."



Snatch JOY in Peace!


One.

Junkie

Yesterday, I ran into an old friend who has, over the years, fallen on hard times. Much of this was due to Life and its disappointments, personal weakness and the failure to overcome the adversities we all face. It saddened me how he could have been me, or I could have been him. It saddens me still because between us there are very few differences. After speaking with him last night, I was haunted enough to light a candle for him, and then to write this poem.



JUNKIE


Funky
Skunky
Untrustworthy
Junkie, I might just be
Your only friend
Left.

Maybe ’cause
You haven’t yet
Robbed
My car,
Broken into
My home,
Stolen my TV
And DVR.
You have not
Abused my trust
Turned my love
Into tainted
Dust… or
Made empty
Promises
I knew you
Couldn’t keep.

Yes, I’ve still
Got your back
Because maybe,
Just maybe
I’m nothing but
An addict too…
A junkie, scratching
The scabs of my
Sordid history
With you. I keep
Feeding off
Lost years of
Pick-up b-ball games
And Converse All-Stars
Mainlining
Good Moments and
Memories
Into my veins…




And now I’ve become
Some strange form of
Junkie…
Jittering to
This music
Of a past…
Tripping on times
When laughter made
Jazz and sparks in
A summer night’s
Darkness
And it was cool
To be young and
Foolish, too.

Maybe we’re all
Just junkies
Holding onto
Dreams
Tight as
Hypodermic
Needles…
Always looking for that
Transitory fix

See everyone
I know
Clings to
Something,
To someone
Or some shit
That may never
Come to be…



And so we
Junk ourselves
Away from
Reality. We stifle
We dope
We medicate our
Silent aches
With placebos
With nicotine
With liquor
With amphetamines
With something
That makes disaster
Seem a little more like
A dream.

Funky
Skunky
Untrustworthy
Junkie, I might just be
Your only
Friend left. Maybe
‘Cause beneath
The scratching,
Leaning palsy and
The slow-mo ballet
Just maybe I see…




How my veins
Have collapsed
From the weight of
My dreams
How my desires
Have atrophied
From someone
Else’s schemes
And my fingers
Wear sores and
Skid-marks
From clawing
And clinging to
Some illusive shit
That may never
Come to be.



The only difference is:

I’VE NEVER STOPPED
Believing.


One.