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Tribute To Michael HISTORY Jackson - Literature - Nairaland

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Tribute To Michael HISTORY Jackson by Enitsua(m): 11:53am On Apr 30, 2013
That was always the case, he never knew what to say or do...it was as if he was brain dead, his mind went completely blank and all those hours of painstaking rehearsals vanished leaving traces of nothing.

Then the beat begun, and it slammed life into him with a malevolent motive...its sound and ascending tempo creeped out from the speakers and infiltrated his mind and body, down to his veins and blood streams, settling into the intricate strands of his DNA...turning him into an incohate dance beast. It built up in him until he was filled to the brim, saturated with inspiration and insane with talent.

Pow ! "...billie jean, not my lover..." dissiptaed from the speakers, the song had commenced, immediately hypnotising his 20 thousand audience, instilling in them such anxiety, like that of the jews, building in them a feeling they had never felt before, a feeling which might prove deadly at its climax.

In one defiant move he puts forth his right leg...balancing on his toes while his hills stay suspended...again the speaker shouts..."Billie jean not my lover!", this time leaves an everlasting echo in its wake.

Michael stays put, still in the same position but now his insides vibrates with a tumultuous quake disguised by his calm exterior, he can't hold it anymore, he needs to let loose, he needs to douse his inhumanity in the song, the least he can do is dance according to procedure...lest he culminates into an unprecedented dance act unknown to humanity and incapable of comprehension by man's puny cognition. So he speedily recalls his choreography in seconds, like a super computer downloading at 1000 terabite per second...and its done the song begins and michael does what he always does, Dance.

He jumps, he twist, he wriggles, he assumes unbelievable postures and unwinds back to form in a flash not forgetting his heavenly dance move, The moon walk...Michael taunts and mocks at all the laws of physics as he eases himself seemlessly on stage like the smooth criminal that he is. While some of his audience have no other outlet to express their emotions than through passionate tears some just collapse to the ground gasping for air...He takes their breadth away.

Some call him Michael, others say he is Jackson, me I call him MICHAEL HISTORY JACKSON, the king of pop.

If I had a cap I would duff it on your honour, so instead I dedicate this piece to you.

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