Ziggy, The Philosopher


He grabs images

integrates them into a whole idea



Ziggy swankers past,

an androgynst persona,

the harlequin struts

and is killed off by his creator


His sculptured face,

translucent white skin,

the intense stare,

of the serious artist,

so much more than a rock star

Cigarette dangles between two fingers

before arcing to his lips


Gathers talent

into his musical whirlpool

of reconstructed notes,

laid down riffs,

puttin’ a spin on it,

tumbling over himself with ideas

‘never no turning back’

Those golden years

wrapped in glam


Breaking glass,

the non-celebrity

with fans dripping off his fingertips

in the serious moonlight

Yes, fame, is it any wonder


But we can all be heroes

Just for one day



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