This world denied him his nobelprize and all the little penisses he never got to lick.
So many things he had to sacrifice; sleeping on the floor so he got cold and old and eventually sick.

This jesus, budha, king of pop.
So many things that he could buy.
A billiondollar lollypop.
And all the noses he wanted to try.
Such a disaster it had to stop.
All we can do now is mourn and cry.

An unbleached, darkened day this is
for all the cosmetic repairshop's in L.A.
All the revenue's they'l have to miss.
Yes this is truly our darkest day.

Nice poem, very nice indeed.

I do not like M.Jackson's music so there's little I can say. He seems to be highly valued as a really talented artist though.

Re to the death of this man however, comments are difficult to be made; I never got to know him as a person, he might have been a fine misunderstood lad or a total wacko, whichever your take is on what the mainstream press reports.

Truth is, there are many more deaths around that matter more. In the end of the day just the man died, not his music. So nothing too special to be concerned about.


The record labels though rub their hands with sardonian joy. All those box sets, previously unreleased tracks, re-mastered tracks etc not to mention his personal items will be sold like hot cakes. Some people will get seriously loaded with cash.

Pedophile - Disgusts me that he is still in the news.