Although himself frequently a target of guerrilla decontextualization, a major part of the meaning of Michael Jackson's life was to help balance the accumulation of horrors with something closer to love in its most empowering and healing sense.

If life is a birthday cake let my face be smeared with its icing of cognac and kindness.

Searching for a mind long lost I found it shaping colors and history near the cliffs of your heart.

As painful as life can be at times for people all over the world there is some component of existence, or nonexistence perhaps, operating to implement a balance and give us an opportunity to turn the horrors we've forced upon each other into something more conducive to sustaining at least minimal degrees of sanity and love.

Literary genres and techniques tend to take form in one's mind somewhat the way computer templates provide form for different computer tasks.

Trayvon Martin, at the most, seems only to have been guilty of being himself.

This is what our love is––a sacred pattern of unbroken unity sewn flawlessly invisible inside all other images, thoughts, smells, and sounds.