Rise, Lazarus, Rise
equal parts angst and apocalypse
lean, bonk-eyed, snaggle-toothed
aptly androgynous and alien-like
other-worldly, infinitely changeable
Ziggy Stardust
Thin White Duke
Saint Obscurantism
emerged a newfangled enchantment
with strange abrasiveness and allure
space-boot deep in interstellar arrogance
a fragmented ideal of indecent cathexis
and then beyond the grave a black star
man-made moon over a galactic sandbox
an affluent splatter on a senseless canvas
emancipating the command of plastic soul
I look up, you’re in Heaven, man
ashes to stardust
rise, Lazarus, rise …
**
David Bowie is immortal. Or I believed him to be. When I
woke up this morning, barely cognizant, accidently opening Facebook trying to
swipe my alarm off, I saw a farfetched post:
“What? David Bowie died?”
My eyes snapped wide open. Just a hoax, yes? An injudicious rumour. Silly internet trolls.
David Bowie died.
Tears. Heart broken. Surrealism personified.
I am, for lack of a better word, gutted. How we live
without Bowie, I’ll never know? Yet, he’s left an extraordinary body of work to
be explored, celebrated and to emulate.
In truth, our hero had taken sick. He knew his fate, what
was awaiting him. So, in perfect Bowie fashion, he executed a perfect plan, to
expire with infinite grace, leaving us with one last immeasurable gift, a
goodbye letter to the world. Just fucking wow.
It’s funny, when I watched the ‘Lazarus’ video on January
7th, I was excited. A new Bowie record, a possible tour, he’s always
been on my bucket list since missing him in Moncton all those years ago. At the same time, I was unnerved. The video,
the song, it had an ominous tone, made me feel a little uneasy but given the losses
I’ve endured I thought perhaps that’s why it felt a little extra weighty. I
certainly did not see this coming, his passing. I was sad to learn of Lemmy’s
passing and Bowie, straight on the heels of it: two imperative icons gone, in
one fell swoop. Fuck cancer.
I have waded through this work day with a heavy heart,
spinning his songs over and over again, pecking at the above poem because I don’t
know how else to express my gratitude, my sadness and my awe for someone who
has been a part of my life, my personal soundtrack, forever.
Rest easy, David Robert Jones. You will be missed by all
4 billion people on this planet.
Thank you for your gifts.
You were everything.
In propinquity,
Nic
