[Frank]

George Bailey: What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon.
Mary: I'll take it. Then what?
George Bailey: Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see... and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair...


Michael swayed from back stage in a dazzling daze...
He appeared staggered in disarray.
Pupils - dilatingly, passively, opaque.
Everybody in the hallway was goin' crazy - cameras flashing in his face
(Bright light to the sedated mind, basking in the shade)
Trapped into the fame
Media maze, isolating him.
Camera flash and he's awake -
BLAST THE CAMERA
FLASH the camera
distract the masses from the stage!
LEARN this anthem!
BURN this anthem!
in the back of all their brains!
Michael that pressure had to be insurmountable.
Being that popular had to be impossible.
Now I know why you popped the pill in attempt to swallow solitude.
Pass away - We will honor you,
After all that IS the American way
African American veins - florescent skin - embarrassing phase
Clorox hue -
Shell of a man - pale in comparison of his fate.
Parents parents parents were slaves, you were carrying all the strain
You blossomed-you danced-into-the-day and died under Obamas rule
Who was responsible for your charismatic displays?
The king of pop could move... Who choreographed his dismay?
..You know I followed you.. that Double spin-revolving move -
And I still grab my crotch like I'm back in the day.
Because back in the day. I didn't see color. I heard magic and taped.
Back in the day you was my brother. Michael Jackson the great.
Today you covered your face and held your baby off a balcony of the paris estate...
Paris is wearing a Mask - his life is a masquerade..
Your forever changing - what ever happened to your face?
Your full nose - oval afro - your blackness - your race?
Your jack-o-lantern smile amping up the stage-
Flash it in our face!
Now they call you Wacko but they cannot assassinate
Your passion. Even if you are just a black hole plastered in decay.....
Who knows how many noes you had reenacted into shapes -
All I know, is your nose is pointed at the pyramids that backed you in the grave...
Somebody tried to flatten your cosmetic being and crash you out of space
Black or white. Androgynous. Out of wack. Are you insane?
No.... but we were all Lunatics when bad would play.
The whole world glided backwards with you - imagine the sprains lol
You were off the wall, you were a magnet, M.J
I remember the first time you did your anti-gravity lean
My mother said what's all that racket? I mean I had the classiest shades
Hair slicked into Caribbean waves, with a S curl I greased to a flap till it banged
I felt the pain like I was Janet or Jermaine, on that hot summer day you passed away
That night, I spun records around - like you were the only one who mattered and I made
The room move around and laugh - I entertained.
I was raised on your music... and here I was - your tracks, your trace
Your tracks, your pace, no mishap could erase
I know you were there.. Illuminated.. dancing away
Your spirit lives on. It's translucent - the canvas is blank.
The glove is off and the cameras away.........

We all have our darker sides - it's how we handle that phase.
Our light and dark moments foreshadow our change..
Cratered by our imperfections we synchronize as our planet rotates.
Drowning out all but the brightest stars in our massive terrain.
So don't tell me your shining - show me the glint off broken glass on the stage.
Where we are going isn't very far - just A galaxy away.
Man has much farther to go within himself,
So let us travel -let us pray
Understand what it means to be human.
Let us dance.
And let us sang.
One Small Step For Man -

not M.J.


The moon had been observing the earth close-up longer than anyone. It must have witnessed all of the phenomenon occurring and all of the acts carried out on this earth. But the moon remained silent; it told no stories. All it did was embrace the heavy past with a cool, measured detachment. On the moon there was neither air nor wind. Its vacuum was perfect for preserving memories unscathed. No one could unlock the heart of the moon. Aomame raised her glass to the moon and asked, “Have you gone to bed with someone in your arms lately?” The moon did not answer. “Do you have any friends?” she asked. The moon did not answer. “Don’t you get tired of always playing it cool?


Rest in peace to Michael Jackson,

Your friend,
moonwalk