I Wanted To Be A Rock Star Dude Poem by Frank Wright

I Wanted To Be A Hard Rock Dude
From beyond the vacant spot
of burnt umber shadows,
the old man through yellow ochre and metal teeth
calls me to his nowhere cardboard castle
in a nowhere street in a somewhere joint.
He turns into an owl with bright yellow eyes,
the little beak tears through the flesh of forbidden words:
at my age it is a sin to be lost in reveries,
and at the age of seventy seven,
Dreams are bad for your health, wealth and happiness.
Go sit there in an indigo drop
and watch your flesh seep through your structure,
dripping down into the gutter,
flow down the pipes into the sewerage.
You'll end up in a castle -
not similar to mine though.
The bats will scream through decaying rafters
as your sinking flesh
is trying to climb the granite stairs.
But, beware, if you persist
to gnaw dreams so splendid
you'll land up in heaven
and play in soothing streams of self-exaltation,
but if you insist not to be a gawk
and keep on being upward bound,
you'll drown in self-realization
and your soul will be imprisoned
in the never ending luster of a diamond.