All hark the bell that tolls so clear, <br />the King of pop is dead. <br />His image flashed on evening news, <br />a heart-attack they said. <br /> <br />No more dance, nor diamond glove, <br />no Bad, nor Billie-jean. <br />The most amazing talent gone, <br />best dancer ever seen. <br /> <br />The songs he penned, his lyrics deep, <br />his inner thoughts surrendered. <br />And for his magic, not bad press, <br />is how he'll be remembered. <br /> <br />A gentle man, misunderstood, <br />by media, painted monster. <br />So insecure about his looks, <br />sometimes looked like an imposter. <br /> <br />He's gone now but we won't forget, <br />the joy he gave us all. <br />And hope now that he rests at peace, <br />his final curtain call. <br /> <br />Heath Gunn copyright 2009<br /><br />Heath Gunn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/michael-jackson-s-gone/
