POEM: MICHEAL'S FINAL CALL

MICHEAL'S FINAL CALL
Happy Birthday to We, our Michael's now free.
Each 29th We'll recall our Dark Star's rise... crest... and fall.
Our sister's first crush, didn't know he made "Art"
We just knew Mike was FINE ~ big 'fro, smile, nose, and heart.

But the vultures, they saw it, saw the coffers he'd fill,
With no Village to guard him he was ripe for a kill.
They grew fat from his vision, fed their spawn from his sweat
Watched Black Genius in action, moments none will forget.

Then maturity blossomed, (time oft' removes scales),
"Systematic Racism"... the TRUE Thriller, unveiled.
Denigrated his features, sullied Virgo's love for youth
Knowing once tagged "molester" it's too late for truth.

The damage was done, African profile long gone,
Years of pain, stress ~ now cornered (we now know, not for long).
With Black Panther prowess he prepared one last show
Yet the toll of his bridle... only brothers can know.

You can't push a TRUE artist, art's a gift... a soul's choice.
You can't push a true brother just because he's soft voiced.
"King of Pop"? "Entertainer"? - they insult on TV,
PHILANTHROPIC PHARAOH is his true legacy.

*Millions* given in gift from Mike's powerful name,
Taught celebs the world over the true purpose of "fame".
No 1 person's to blame, The System's everywhere,
We're ALL sick from its poison, zombied choices we share.

Universal Law is the teaching to burn deep in our kids,
We're already half-living, like poor Michael did.
See... The System is silent. That's its lie, its New Twist.
You try telling Mike's heart: "Racism Doesn't Exist".

By Siebra Muhammad and Angie Melecio

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING OF POP!!!