Magic Michael

mike2

Born during the phase of the full moon,
for all of the world to see,
in the late evening on August 29, 1958,
around 7:33.

Mother Nature rejoiced!
The waters waved and danced in delight!
The birds flapped their wings in excitement.
The world was showered with new light that night.

The wolves stood on rocks and howled.
The stars and the sky gathered in celebration.
He was here to sing, dance, and heal.
Unborn babies kicked in anticipation.

He was the moon;
an enigma, mystery in the flesh.
He was as the moon;
adored from France to Bangladesh.

He was a man as a child,
and he was a child as a man.
It was in the way that he sat and spoke,
and in the way that he jumped and ran.

He was the Earth Angel Michael;
the friend and guardian of children.
Kids knew it and they loved him,
protective and doting, mother hen.

We miss him.

The earth stood still on June 25, 2009;
we had a nightmare while our eyes were wide open.
We shivered as sweat ran down our foreheads.
We took long and deep breaths in,
quickly running out,
dying.

Where is our Michael?

When we think of him,
we are filled with happiness and strength,
but we miss him,
and the thought of it makes us weak.
We miss his hypnotic, gorgeous eyes,
the beauty of and in his smile,
the charisma and gaiety in his dance,

the sweet softness of his voice,
that voice, the sound of freshwaters.

We miss the way he made us feel
when he lifted us up as he bent to kneel.
Mother Earth weeps as She curls her toes.

Elephants trumpet,
birds sing of our woes.

We are nostalgic about carrying him,
as he carried us,

as we play and replay his shows.
We are lovesick.

He is here.

Mamase, mamasa, mamakusa.
Mama, say,
mama, sir,
mama, cool sir.
He will always be with us.

Yes, he will, our king of pop,
our king of love.
His body will always be in our soil,

swaddled in Gaia’s arms,
and that is not all.

His spirit will always be with us.
He will always be here,
via his songs,
via his dance,
via his teaching,
via his charity,
via his silent cries and loud wailings,
via his musical screams.
We will rock him back and forth;

we will never drop him.
We will remember him fondly,
loving and cherishing him,
for decades and generations to come.

 

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Till Death Do Us Part

ttt

Let’s stay together,
if not my heart you’ll sever,
till death do us part.

I’ll do anything for you,
try anything you want to,
till death do us part.

Your pain is my pain,
your love is my gain,
till death do us part.

This isn’t right,
this isn’t healthy,
but you say that I’m your lady,
and I like when you call me ‘baby’,
so let’s be wild,
let’s be free,
and listen to no one but we,
let us be one and the same,
neither needs to take the blame,
my life is very you and me,
without you, I cannot breathe or sleep,
without you, I simply cannot see,
our love is ill,

and it might kill,
but I’ll stay with you,
oh yes, I will,
till death do us part.

Enough is enough, except you can’t get enough.
Substitute Title: Houston-Winehouse Love

My Love, I Don’t Understand

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‘ Reclining Lady’ by Margaret Garcia

Baby, now that you’re out of flesh,
do you really still see me?
Do you rub my belly when we’re together alone?
Do you still hold my hand when I pee?

Darling, now that you don’t have a mouth,
can you still taste some of my food?
Do you still giggle when I dance unclad for you?
Do I still get you in the mood?

Honey, without your hands and arms,
can you feel my temperature when I’m ill?
Do you twitch my nipples and kiss my lips?
Is my love a thing you can feel?

My love, do you like my new waist beads?
I can’t tell, and it’s driving me crazy.
Why won’t you come take me,
so I can be with you?
Will we never make a baby?

Love ‘IsReal’- ‘MicHeal’ Jackson

paint

Painted by freckledmestiza

When I was in SS3 [last year of high school], my Literature-in-English teacher—Papa Ade—did something that I never forgot. Pa Ade was my father, so to speak, because I was living away from home at the time; I lived in the school’s girls’ hostel/dormitory. I called him ‘Baba’, and I spent a lot of time with him in his office and in the library. He was (and of course, still is) a senior [he taught one of my classmate’s mother], and that was enough reason for me to love him. Natally, I have Saturn in the 1st house, and as a child, I remember feeling very out of place, like the ugly duckling, among other children, but happy among the adults. I liked to listen to them, and terribly hated it when I was told to cover my ears or close my eyes or go play with my mates.

I loved Pa Ade, and I got very close to him. I was also very curious about him, about what had happened between him and his wife, and he told me all I needed to know. I couldn’t say the same about many of my classmates though. They found his style of teaching rather archaic, and the fact that we had to have a dictionary each time we had lessons with him really pissed a few off. He was very particular about it- expect to be flogged or embarrassed if you don’t have your dictionary. I genuinely liked to read to the class whenever I had a chance, and we would take turns reading parts of the books/novels, sometimes. I enjoyed Baba’s class very much.

I am an introvert, but I tried to portray myself as an extrovert in Senior Secondary School. I had been bullied/made fun of, a good number of times, in Junior Secondary School [which was a different school entirely] due to a supposed ‘lack of exposure’, and I wasn’t going to have it in Senior Secondary School. My mantra was a bit like “I don’t want nobody fucking with me in these streets.” Whether it brought me more hate or not, I don’t know, but I made it clear- I wasn’t going to be pushed around. Now that I’m older and I see that I have Lilith in the 5th house natally, ‘boom’, my feeling out of place among my mates as a child seems to make a lot of sense.

Where am I going with these memories? I don’t know. I’ll write more about my experiences in the future. None of these things that I keep remembering and mentioning has anything to do with this article; on second thought, maybe they all do.

Back to the occurrence that happened that I will never forget: Pa Adeniyi came to class one day and walked straight to Israel, my classmate. As it turned out, Israel had spelled his name as ‘Isreal’, and that had really pissed Baba off. He must have hit him with his rubber ‘cane’ [he hit me once with it in class before we got close, and it really hurt] if I remember clearly. Israel was livid. I guess it traumatized me since I began to pay more attention to my work, ensuring that I never made that mistake (or a similar one) from then on.

Lately, I have been typing or writing ‘Michael’ as ‘Micheal’ subconsciously, and then correcting it as quickly as I realize my mistake, sometimes embarrassingly, and I have found it very interesting. I had been ignoring it until I literally asked myself the ‘what for?’ question today. ‘I know how to spell ‘Michael’, and ‘Israel’; why is my brain ‘moving mad’ and acting this way?’ Then I looked closely and immediately realized what the message was- MicHEAL. I have been noticing 11:11s and 1:11s far more frequently than other number synchronicities lately, and I believe that this too, MicHEAL, is a message.

Michael Jackson is still very much a healer, even as a spirit, not only due to the messages/energies that he put out to the world via the music that he made when he was with us in the flesh, but because he is doing lightwork and awakening/communicating with lightworkers/healers, with the help of the angels and his spiritual squad, even though he doesn’t live like us anymore. Michael is not disturbed as a spirit due to all the lies that are being told against him. It is all for a purpose, and people are being awakened to the kind of soul that Michael really was and still is, much more than they were.

Being kind to one another, taking care of and loving children, being childlike but not childish- these and more were Michael’s messages. I don’t want to read too much into how I feel because it is not necessary. Whether this is a call for me to be encouraged in my healing work or address my suppressed emotions, I cannot profoundly claim to know. I know that it could be both.

Coincidentally, it is Children’s Day in Nigeria- May 27, and I have been trying to think of what to put out on my Instagram page to that effect. I thought about posting a video of Michael delivering a speech while he was receiving the NAACP Awards in 1993. I have attached the video to this post but this is my favourite part of what he said:

“In every person,
there is a secret song in their heart.
It says ‘I am free.
It sings ‘I am one’.
This is the natural feeling of every child-
to be free as the wind,
to be one with every other child.
All the trouble in the world is caused by forgetting this feeling,
and when I perform,
my connection is with the people,
just to remind me of that-
to be free and to be one.

Michael is telling us (like he has always done) that we should open ourselves up for healing, and by doing so, we will heal one another and heal our earth. The big question is ‘how’, and the answer appears to be simple, in theory, at least. We must be child-like; again, not childish, child-like. We must be forgiving (of others, and most-especially, ourselves), loving, kind, compassionate, and free.

We must return to what we once were before ‘life’ began, what we were sent to this consciousness to be. We must learn lessons without learning pain and bitterness, and if we have learnt bitterness, we must unlearn it. 

Love is real. 

The First One Dies First

Hip Bone

‘Hip Bone’ by Gilbert Young

Yesterday,
you braced yourself.

With all the courage that you had,
you told them how you really felt,
and what all your affection meant.

Today,
they tell you that they love you.
They’re here to make your dark sky blue.
You give them butterflies inside too,
so they show you life,
and it’s brand new.
It’s an exciting time for you two,

and there’s nothing,
for your baby,
that you can’t do.

Tomorrow,
you’re going to have a big fight;

the things that they’ll say will hurt you.
If you threaten to leave if they don’t change,
they’ll react in a way that you’ll find strange.
The words that they’ll say will be quite true,
“I didn’t come to you first,
I didn’t want you.”

Falling in Love is Masochistic

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Painted by John Park

I will never understand,
for as long as I live,
why people crave so hard,
why people ache so bad,
to fall in love.

I know that falling is nice,
falling is like flying,
and flying is nice,
but when the clock strikes 12,
one will have to pay the price.

Landing is tough,
landing is rough,
there are cuts on the face and neck,
and blood on the thighs and head.
The heart is broken into several pieces,
and air is taken out of the lungs.
The knees lose life and strength,
and the sides become so badly bent.

I hope they learn a lesson or two.
I stand by the scene and I watch,
hoping they’ll never, ever return,
but people climb on love’s hill again,
with smiles on their lips
and laughter in their mouths,
wobbling with a partner in hand,
to fall in that dark pit once more,
to die again.

What Have Love Do For Me?

love kee you there

As I dey look you for eye,
your pity just dey do me for mind,
but the wahala wey you dey look for,
na the wahala wey you go find.

You dey shine eye well well but
e be like say you no dey see.
My body and blood don hot well well;
what have this love even do for me?

I dey always do plenty things for man;
I dey cook all kind sweet sweet food.
Of all the man wey I don love;
las las no one even do me good.

The palava wey love give me too much;
I no just get strength for pain again.
Abeg waka away comot from my front;
If I love you now, wetin I go gain?

The Love Rove

Spirit Painting- Elaine Clayton

Spirit Painting – Elaine Clayton

Love is death.
To fall in love truly is to die,
to bury you in yourself,
your arms,
your doubts,
your fears,
past hurts that brought tears.

To fall in love truly is to become a spirit,
to levitate,
to float and glide through the day,
and even with your eyes wide open,
to dream.
It’s an experience that gives your body
control of itself;
it smiles when you don’t ask it to,
and flies when you don’t know how to.

Love is birth.
To fall in love truly is to be reincarnated
while you keep the same skin.
It is to be reborn,
to become a foetus before you sleep,
hugging and kissing the air
when they are not near,
speaking to them
even when they can’t hear.
It is to become someone else,
someone new,
seeing things that are not there,
feeling things that make you bare.

To fall in love truly is to want to grow,
to want to know,
trusting and wondering like a child.
It is to be happy,
to be unafraid,
to be very aware and ill,
to be at peace.

For Michael.

The Cycle

GetAttachment

She holds the key to your heart,
after you hand it over to her,
and when things don’t work out between you,
she throws the key at you.
You pick the key up,
turn it anticlockwise to lock it,
and for some reason,
tell yourself that she has locked it for good,
as if she has the power to.

When you hold the key
to the heart of a new “she”,
after she hands it over to you,
you delightfully throw the key at her
when things don’t work out between you.
She picks the key up,
turns it anticlockwise to lock it,
and for some reason,
tells herself that you have locked it for good,
as if you have the power to.

Each person nurses their pain
and doctors their true feelings,
dwelling on past pain,
staying away from true healing,
until something or someone
shows up to show them

that the heart does not,
the heart does not need,
the heart does not need a key, anyway.

Today is Another Day

Grillo

Painted by Yusuf Grillo

Today is another day;
today is an other day.
Tomorrow will become yesterday,
a brand new yesterday,
if you don’t take new steps today.

Take four steps to grow,
take three steps to heal,
take two steps to love,
take a step to part ways
with today’s yesterday.