Young Michael, Brightly Lit
When I lived in a dive
And music was alive
We heard the Jackson 5.
What singles, ABC,
I Want You Back would free
A golden top ten spree.
The sibling quintet sang,
From this raw Motown gang
Angelic voices rang.
Tracks echoed rain and sun,
While each singer could stun,
Young Michael was the one.
To love songs of a child
I listened and half-smiled,
Not totally beguiled.
But something altered when
The radio played Ben,
I ached so deeply then.
A tale of loneliness
That moved me I confess,
I felt his tenderness.
Years passed, I worked and dreamed
And as I feebly schemed
A distant friend he seemed.
Post-Motown when they’d split
A piercing spotlight hit,
Young Michael, brightly lit.
The rise before the fall,
From glitzy Off The Wall
To Thriller’s ghostly call.
For Thriller, hooked and glad
The world went really mad,
The world waited for Bad.
One silver glove he wore
Then full of awe we saw
That moonwalk on the floor.
Yet infant fame had snatched
His joy and now unmatched
Heights locked the head and latched.
Some child stars who compete
Mould their minds to complete
A dangerous retreat.
Dark skin had to be light,
The thought became a blight
So black turned into white.
In plastic surgeon zones
Blades cut, he asked who owns
The Elephant Man’s bones.
Odd masks to hide and shade,
Wealth’s saturation laid
The Neverland he made.
Then damning rumours flew,
Who told the lies, who knew
Or was the story true?
Eventually instead
On numbness Michael fed,
Addiction left him dead.
Despite the vast cash cow
A presence still somehow
Transcends the here and now.
Young Michael’s brightly lit
Where haunted creatures flit
And sorrow I admit.
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