Celebrity Verses Poetry: Michael Jackson HOLOGRAM

Help Me, Phony Wan Digi-glow Beam, You’re My Only Hope


MJ hologram

Oh glorious day!
He has returned
from Elysian Fields,
a pixel angel,
salvaging our organic
cage-free souls
with the glory of gigabytes!

Verily, I speak of our
king of undead pop:
Our digital Jesus
resurrected from derision
two years banish-ed
in servers and hive mind
binary alchemy turning Tupac
into MJ, blessing cyborg Shakur
with the ignorance of
hearing his music Broadway-ified—
only bones must roll in graves
for Julliard hip hop and jazz hands.

But let us not forgot
this latest incarnation—
our Jackson One undead, again,
more silicon than Thriller,
less cackling and more guffaw.
A Second Life character
come to roost on the memory
of vitiligo Peter Pan.

Let us program our own
second comings,
our creepy computer cascade
into the hive mind of
digital remembrance.
Make mine that wry bitch
in the corner of the party,
snarking, scotch in hand,
at the bad canapés
at my own wake.


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