I’d rather be a rockstar;

a poet in ripped jeans.

I want to wear my heart

on a tattooed sleeve.

I want to feed my soul

by sucking life dry

of every moment.

*

I’d rather be a rockstar;

a priest with a guitar

and a mic for a pulpit,

to have the ability to speak

to millions with six strings,

followers memorizing lyrics and riffs

then joining me,

hands held high in prayer.

*

I’d rather be a rockstar;

a commander in chief of an army

of outcasts outfitted in leather jackets,

their lighters raised in salute

to the trebled pitch

of a battle cry.

*

I’d rather be a rockstar;

a counselor to the disenfranchised,

to understand that there is beauty

in the pain of a situation

that is just too damn ugly.

*

I’d rather be a rockstar;

a lover, a father, a best-friend.

I want to be the star shine in your eye;

the man with the guitar

who, sitting at the head of the bed,

sings you to sleep every night

after the lights go down.