Rock Star Human

Just learned recently that the rhythm guitarist for one of my favorite bands is in treatment for addiction. I've loved this band for over 10 years now, and this really hit me hard for whatever reason.

Rock Star Human

Playing rock god-style

night after night,

sneer curled in your lip

though your face looks at peace.

Sweat pours down as you hit

power chord after power cord

synchronized with the six other men on stage.

The show ends,

house lights come up in the venue,

adoring fans wait

for a handshake, autograph, or photo.

You slip off to backstage.

Back in your private room

You feel less like a legend

and increasing more human each night.

Open a bottle, take a swig,

the alcohol warms your throat

and numbs everything else.

Others watch you closely

as you slip further away.

Family, friends, fans

all see you in unwashed holey clothes.

You joke about being told that

‘you are letting yourself slip away.’

The time finally comes

when those who love you,

who have seen you grow

from a skiny skinhead teenager

into a man,

can’t watch your descent any longer.

They gather around you

and plead for you to truly look at yourself

and see that you need help.

Onstage your band plays on

without you.

Every night when your frontman tells the audience

why your aren’t by his side right now

we can feel the love and concern

and how much they can’t wait for you to be better again.

So many people root for you,

knowing the struggle personally

or remembering how addiction played out in their lives.

We can’t wait to see you again,

playing rock god style with your band,

stronger than when you left us for a short while.

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"Marked: Another Experience" & "My Fantasy"

Marked: Another Experience

Private party show,

because the venue forgot

to renew the liquor license.

Marked with a sharpie

so we could exit the club between bands.

I stand in the back against a wall

while the first band plays

punked-up folk music

wearing Donnie Darko masks.

I spend the set going between

hoping the masks weren’t going to star

in fucked up nightmares later on,

and thinking that they were too talented

to have be resorting to stupid gimmicks

to gain the attention of an audience.

Between sets I run

out to my car for some granola.

I catch glances from the smokers

as I run back into the club,

they seemed amused by my antics.

With the second band

I move closer to the stage.

Last time I saw them was 9 years prior.

The energy and passion are still there,

no doubt revved up by their hometown crowd.

I’m soaking in the feel of the upright bass

reverberating in my chest.

It’s been too long

since I last had that feeling.

Between sets, back to my car,

more granola. And to leave

my hoodie in the front seat;

there would be no need inside anymore.

I move my way through the club

to the second ‘row’ of the pit

and hop foot-to-foot

as the headlining band sound checks.

They start their set

and everything moves in unison.

And I’m at peace again

shaking my head, my body bouncing

almost rhythmically off of others.

Later on, back in the kitchen

the ink of the X is already fading.

Smiling, thinking, nothing last forever

except memories.

-

My Fantasy

Many days I fantasize

about buying a one-way ticket

to anywhere outside of the US.

Leaving a note, or texting, or e-mailing

those who will worry

that I’m okay. I’m just going

on one of my one-woman adventures,

just this time a little further out than normal.

I’ll drop into some big city,

walk into some little dive bar-type pub

and beg the owner for a job.

I’ll be paid under the table, of course.

I’ll explore the city

and when I get tired of it,

take a train to anywhere else.

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