Michael Jackson: Defense Rests
This is a poem I wrote in May, 2005, right after Michael Jackson's acquittal and after a collage portrait of Michael Jackson by Rosie O'Donnell which is no longer available. I thought I'd post it here again. RIP. LDC
http://lornadice.blogspot.com/2005/05/michael-jackson-defense-rests-mixed.html
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Michael Jackson: 'defense rests' (a mixed media on wood, a 3x5 Portrait)
~~~~~(from a portrait by the artist, Rosie O'Donnell)
You, laid out like a crazy
pathwork quilt on a bordered bed, a number
stamped in the left-hand pocket: "to prison,
with love." They got yours
slapped on like brown pigment,
the stain of your famous face
in caricature, a caricature of Am I Blue,
Little Boy? Little bouy, (blue?)
bobbing in the photos, the snap
shot of you, a graffittied plaque against
the Real McCoy. Perpetrator
of a Love Supreme fractured
against the pawl. Against the pale
portraits of a king, recessed
in flame and flourish, hides a checker
board past flaring in the distance
between a father and his dancing
son.... Between the sheets, a child's love
lies. Between the press, the next morning,
of the palate knife, centuries aged,
some duotone of passion and burn, some law
writ in the land and heart, that forgiven
species. And health: the child. What lies
ahead?
c May 27, 2005 by Lorna Dee Cervantes
All rights reserved between consenting adults in the privacy of your own home.
http://lornadice.blogspot.com/2005/05/michael-jackson-defense-rests-mixed.html
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael Jackson: 'defense rests' (a mixed media on wood, a 3x5 Portrait)
~~~~~(from a portrait by the artist, Rosie O'Donnell)
You, laid out like a crazy
pathwork quilt on a bordered bed, a number
stamped in the left-hand pocket: "to prison,
with love." They got yours
slapped on like brown pigment,
the stain of your famous face
in caricature, a caricature of Am I Blue,
Little Boy? Little bouy, (blue?)
bobbing in the photos, the snap
shot of you, a graffittied plaque against
the Real McCoy. Perpetrator
of a Love Supreme fractured
against the pawl. Against the pale
portraits of a king, recessed
in flame and flourish, hides a checker
board past flaring in the distance
between a father and his dancing
son.... Between the sheets, a child's love
lies. Between the press, the next morning,
of the palate knife, centuries aged,
some duotone of passion and burn, some law
writ in the land and heart, that forgiven
species. And health: the child. What lies
ahead?
c May 27, 2005 by Lorna Dee Cervantes
All rights reserved between consenting adults in the privacy of your own home.
Labels: Lorna Dee Cervantes, Michael Jackson, poem, Poetry
posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes at 6:37 PM
4 Comments:
You are a capable poet indeed. And I don't have to tell you that.
However, 'centuries aged,' should be 'centuries age.' Unless, you are using the perfect past tense, i.e. "two centuries have not aged Poe's writing."
Yes; the perfect past tense, the palette knife that paints identity is "centuries aged." But I always like to have layers of meaning, so centuries age works, too. Thanks. And, thanks for your comment.
Interesting. I just noticed the "pathworks." Typo? I honestly don't remember.
Mannn... Michael Jackson was a terrible loss for everyone. I still cant believe he's gone. I dont believe he's dead... I wish he were still alive... =(
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