A rock star’s journey from fame to self-destruction.
Final Encore
by Mark Tulin
In the freedom of the 60s,
my body went through
the proverbial tattoo mill,
salted like corned beef -
they cooked me in the briny sea,
mishandled by record moguls,
a manager who sold me
to the wolves.
I sought drugs to keep sane,
mashing guitars to maintain.
I believed the libido was the cure
to whatever ailed my insecurities -
desire was my fountain of youth,
crossing boundaries, ranging in age
from illegal to prima donnas.
As my addictions grew,
so did my wild guitar riffs,
broken strings, and smashed
instruments- tantrums, mood swings,
and lyrics leaping off the deep end.
My love songs became more cynical
with each alimony payment
and canceled engagement -
my life became empty
and redundant.
The burned bridges left me crippled -
bad deals and misappropriations,
pills put me out and kept me up -
the reaper at my window
at all hours of the night.
The adoring fans
still clamored at my door,
begging for more -
I peeked at my reflection,
noticing the lines on my face
and the bloodshot eyes -
I couldn't avoid
death's final encore.
Crow On The Wire 
it almost makes me feel sorry for these pampered, puffed up poseurs 🙂
Yeah, I wouldn’t mind having success in moderation. Too much at one time is overwhelming. ☮️🎸
agreed; I’ve never had that problem 🙂
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Gee, it’s too bad the artists that are so talented have to feel this way. They should be free to share their talent without the nonsense and know how happy they make people with their music.
That…was fabulous.
Thank you. 🙂
My pleasure.
Since the movie “Better Man” came out, my mind focuses on the things within that movie. This piece describes the struggles Robbie Williams went through in his biopic. I do hope this wasn’t your story, mark. It’s a lot of work to overcome that situation.