Last week Charley brought a rock star home
We were awe struck
Flaming red hair and six foot two in his leather
strides
Looking just like he does on the sleeves of the LPs
But sat right there on our settee
We marveled at his tattoos and the tracks on his arms
And the ten inch scar where he opened his chest with
broken glass
To thrill the crowd at the Whiskey-a-Go-Go
We kept him supplied with alcohol, drugs and
cigarettes
And he poured out stories for us
We listened in amazement
In the morning Charley's rock star seemed a little
faded
His face lined
His teeth false
Eyes hanging heavy
Moving awkwardly
(Fell off stage once in Madrid and broke his back)
Me and Charley went to collect the rock star's
breakfast from the off-license
And wondered if it really is so good to meet your
heroes
Or if larger-than-life characters
Might lose their mystique as they fumble with tubes of
Polygrip
In the grey morning light of your very own bathroom
The rock star seemed lost and uneasy in our house
Filled with dogs and babies
And no roadies
He said he had no real home
Just a hat and a bag and some poems
Life on the road
Rock and roll
Do what you want
But for a moment we caught a glimpse of a lonely man
Getting old too soon
With nowhere left to go
We borrowed a guitar for the rock star
We thought it might cheer him up
When it got dark we lit some candles
And the rock star played for us
In the flattering light
The years fell away
A familiar voice rang out over familiar chords
He was The Last Bandit once again
The Bulletproof Poet
And when he sang 'My World is Empty'
We believed every word
[turn the page] [table of contents] [contributors] [ordering information]
crown o' gems | main press! page
jewel@gleeful.com
a gleeful press!
a seraph production