The Holy Pop Star

Red blood dripping slowly from the cross

Forming little puddles of red mud below

Her sins falling between the cracks

Things she didn’t want her mom to know.

Screaming and twisting and turning

Nailed there by the media in her prime

Nothing more to hide, of her pain inside

So she began to sing one more time.

“Let me shine, shine, shine, again once more

Dear Mother God please forgive them.

But smite them hard for the pain I endure.”

Numbed by her pain she screamed, “I am!”

A sinner and a tax collector looked on

Record company man heard her cry

She signed a contract on the bottom line

Then he placed her in his tomb when she died.

She hung naked and bleeding on the cover

Platinum sales and Rolling Stone spreads

Company prophets and miraculous resurrection

Her crying mother in prayer bows her head.

Her sins throwing her into the ever-after

Needles, lies and babies follow her down

Baptized into shining lights of marquees

She rises, throwing stars, and shining in her gown.

Hang yourself, hang on that Roman tree

Only after will life blossom and bloom

Up there to die on the Old Rugged Cross

Death for some is never too soon.

© 2010 Dayvid Graybill