We know the truth, not only by the reason, but also by the heart.

TNZ : People VS MJ



PEOPLE VS MICHAEL JACKSON or IT’S ALL FOR LOVE


“When God loves a creature he wants the creature
to know the highest happiness and the deepest misery
He wants him to know all that being alive can bring.
That is his best gift. There is no happiness save
in understanding the whole.”

(Tornton Wilder)

***
“It’s only after we’ve lost everything
that we’re free to do anything.”

“Art never comes from happiness.”
(Chuck Palahniuk)

LOST CHILDREN

1. “Shake a Body” [Early Demo]

2. “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)” [Demo]

3. “Sunset Driver” [Demo]

4. “We Are Here to Change the World”

5. “Cheater” [Demo]

6. “Dangerous” [Early Version]

7. “Monkey Business”

8. “Fall Again” [Demo]

9. “In the Back”

10. “Scared of the Moon” [Demo]
11. “We Are the World” [Demo]

12. “Beautiful Girl” [Demo]

13. “The Way You Love Me”

14. “We’ve Had Enough”

Here is the list of previously
unreleased tracks that Defendant Jackson has issued within Ultimate
Collection Compilation in November 17, 2004. All of them might make a
full new studio album.
8 of them, all written by Jackson, were relatively new by that moment.

Most of them were absolutely brilliant.
Most of them were incomplete.

What forced Mr. Michael Joe Jackson the genius of marketing to release such a treasure at a most undesirable for sales moment?

What forced Mr. Michael Joe Jackson the king of pop to lose
prospective number one singles that could obviously break charts
records, if they had been recorded completely?
What was going on in
the heart of exceptional perfectionist, ever endeavoring at absolute,
in the heart of self-discipline freak and workaholic to let him leave
these songs undersung, underarranged, underproduced?
To quit recording? By that time, the torture had been lasting for more than a year and a half.

Defendant Jackson could not, but see it would get worse and worse.
He could not, but see there were no ways to pull ropes.
He could not, but know any help was out of reach.

For hardly anyone would plead for presumptive pedophile. Hardly
anyone would want his own hands to get dirty. Hardly anyone would bring
into a question his own reputation, fighting for a lost cause.
Defendant Jackson could not, but brace himself for the worst. He could not, but think of a prison.
He could not, but concede these songs might be the last.

So how paralyzing and insupportable could be the pain to remain them undone for his possibly last release?

Has this world any yardstick for such a degree of grief?

Didn’t he deserve a little more support?

Almost given up musician sharing the innermost gifts of his essentiality — the music, underwritten for unfathomable pain.
What could be more expressive than these demos?

Why he was so hurry to release them?

Maybe
just for you

to listen?

The strange and lonely little one, who was bearing within 861 days
not even a cross, but a whole Golgotha of grief and desolation on his
skinless shoulders. The delicate and sophisticated esprit fort whose
only guilt was being unlike all others; whose only guilt was being
dreamer as no one else; whose only guilt was an impulse to care and to
help, has been humiliated and lynched within 861 days.
Within 861 days before his very eyes –

his very hope, his very faith, his very happiness

have been destroyed and seared out

with envy and jealousy,

with insatiability and greediness.
Slowly and increasingly.

Day by day,

brick by brick,

drop by drop.
Till these eyes became completely empty.

Did Defendant Jackson dream of a real death as a happy release?

Even for once?

Perhaps.

Pale as ghost, exhausted and depredated Defendant Jackson
accepted the cleaning verdict having held a tissue up to the face and
showed “muted emotion”.

Defendant Jackson left the court as a free man.
People chose not to pay attention.

Curtain down. Black out.

You have to learn to raise the truth within yourself because
the legal foundation of the returning will be far from the real
reasons.
There is no such country worldwide to have current law warrants death
faking in order to force people to pay attention. To pay attention that

Something is definitely rotten in the world where a man has to stand to the law for unique capability to love.
Something is definitely rotten in the world where dirty-mindedness and prejudice acquire the force of law

Something is definitely rotten in the world where unselfishness and generosity are retributed with hate and contempt.


CONSOLATION FOR SUPERHEROES

Men do not accept their prophets and slay them,
but they love their martyrs and worship
those whom they have tortured to death.

(Fyodor Dostoevsky)

Both now and always, to be a hero, a rebel, a guerilla or
a messiah is a generous, but deadly ungracious job. After several blood
footprints on the sands of time, it’s almost impossible to believe in
effective and meaningful Revolution seriously. However, Evolution is a
too extended and intricate process to bear satisfying fruits during
brief pilgrimage of a single human life. The story of a hero, who hits
out at injustice and prejudice across the Universe, ends well just in
Hollywood movies.

Though
real life is different. Real life is hardly far from happy end as it
is. One single Batman cannot save the whole Gotham City from imminent
demolition. Messiah, trying to bring people to the next gradation, is
fated to be persecuted and crucified. The salvation of Zion will
evermore cost Neo his heart and his head.

In real life, lonely
superhero usually takes a drubbing in a battle with a hostile crowd. He
is usually doomed to be a weirdo. He is usually weirded to be wasted on
world. He is usually bound to be defeated. To remain in a minority
tending to absolute loneliness. By default
In real life, there are no fairy scriptwriters, fond of kind and mercy
enough to secure the triumph of good over evil. Mission generally is
impossible.
Stupidity, mediocrity and illiberality, in whole their strong
instinct of self-preservation, struggle for supremacy unprinciply and
aggressively.
Even a man who plunges into the thick of a battle, being weaponed with
only an illusion that he could make a change, is a hero. Though, the
desperate part of the fearless light knight who dares to rebel with no
illusions entirely is a tragic quintessence of pure nobleness, wisdom
and generosity.

Foreknowing for sure that you will definitely lose this battle
for human minds and souls, to pray silently in the garden of
Gethsemane, to move along heading for disaster as if you’re unaware of
it.
To dare to live, to love, to dance, as if you know not what pain is, as if you were never betrayed and beaten.

To give hope, being already hopeless of everything; to bring
happiness, feeling unhappy; to help, being yourself in sore need of
help.
Preconceiving that you are done for, to pretend invincible, untouchable and immortal.

Whereas some never change completely…

Whereas all men on Earth can never be happy…

Whereas the Planet will never be healed up fully…

Whereas no solution exists to satisfy everyone…

To carry your mission in spite of whole it’s impossibility.

Not to allow the Darkness to achieve final victory.
To continue the eternal infighting.

Over and over.
Again and again.
Till the fall of the curtain.

Though even when you are crucified like Jeshua of Nazareth’s

Even when you are burnt alive like Gordano Bruno

Even when you are torn limb from limb by the crowd like Pablo Pasolini.

Even when you are shot down like John Lennon

Even when you die in poverty and oblivion like Nikola Tesla –
your
blood, no matter organic or metaphysical, will penetrate deeply into
the culture, will imbue the epoch, will saturate the civilization.
It will make history.

Therein is the very mission of any Messiah as it is.

This is the only consolation for superheroes.

Who will guarantee you success? No one will. Who will secure victory? Nobody.
Does it mean that you should not try?

Does it mean that you should not dare?
Does it mean that you should keep sleeping all your life long?

It does not.

You should try.

You have to dare.

You must wake up immediately.

In spite of everything.

Until it’s too late


IT’S ALL FOR LOVE

“When God loves a creature he wants the creature
to know the highest happiness and the deepest misery
He wants him to know all that being alive can bring.
That is his best gift. There is no happiness
save in understanding the whole.”

(Tornton Wilder)

***

“If death meant just leaving the stage long enough
to change costume
and come back as a new character…
Would you slow down? Or speed up?”
(Chuck Palahniuk)

As
you know, we do not have a habit of using the word “LOVE” much. It
doesn’t mean we don’t like it. It just comes from our ultimately
aflutter attitude toward the notion. We don’t want it to turn into
platitude and banality for extreme overuse.

However, the fact
remains that this world, bent on love stories, chick-flicks and soap
operas, has a tremendously unfavourable balance of love and tenderness.
This word is badly suffers from the severest form of love deficiency
disease. It’s wasting away for lack of life-giving love in deed, not
only in name, not only in word, not only in movie love scenes.

In the course of resent years of humiliation, oblivion and
silence, over the years far out of the big stage Mr. Michael Joe
Jackson was able to realize it like no other. Deep comprehension comes
from the contrary. Wisdom comes through stupidity; devotion and
faithfulness come through betrayal and demolition. Need of love becomes
absolute, when you feel no whatever love in the air about at all.

So IT’S ALL FOR LOVE.

This is not an advertising slogan.

This is the only truth you want to know.

IT’S ALL FOR LOVE is a result of a pain shock, incompatible with living.

IT’S ALL FOR LOVE is a late diagnosis, too critical condition to stay alive.

IT’S ALL FOR LOVE is a record in nonexistent D-certificate on cause of death box.

IT’S ALL FOR LOVE is deadly sincere confession that somebody, as
well as the whole world around, needs deliriously to be loved to death.

IT’S ALL FOR LOVE is an incantation to turn word into deeds and
deeds into permanent state of heart and mind, motivating every thought,
every step, every action.

It’s a cry of undraped despair from the other, faraway edge of the communication gap.
Ultimate attempt to wake up.

Final call to pay attention.

The man ‘died’ of unanswered love to the world.

Love is the only answer to it.

This world is indeed enormously ill all over; it’s all over in
open sores of envy, greediness, neglection and indifference. The
disease is extensive and chronical. It cannot be ever healed
completely. Therefore, this world, like any incurable one, is in urgent
need of unconditional and unreserved love.

Right now.
Right here.
The more the better.
In spite of everything.

Until it’s too late.

So maybe then, it will feel relief a little, even though for a brief spell.

And maybe someday this love will be enough to heal up the
bleeding wound, as deep as Mariana Trench, in the heart of Mr. Michael
Joe Jackson, ever guilty of overloving.
To heal, to fill this wound up and to overflow back to the world with
the newborn breath,
the newborn inspiration,
with the newborn

beautiful

music.

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