King of Pop

I heard of tickets for a Kings funeral
Mutely and Publicly effaced
Democratically ethereal
Coronated with a populous composite crown
Each piece given by a repetitive hand
Paternal hands on the shoulders push to kneel on the ground
Cheered in three minute applications
Patterned by patrons
How apt that the king of pop
Would imbue the skin of the life of the entertained
With some indefinable color bled from a body
That moved over it's bones
Drawn in flux by the rhythm and voice
Of a collective superficiated primality
An apotheosis of self
Vivisected in views and reassembled in cheers conjured by a dance,
A rite of bodily gyrations and summoning,
Calling the borrowed parts of the man back into union
For those moments of Worshipful conduction,
Dissolving at the end of each night and keeping him in mortal flux

-Apes Blood