You died
2 days this side of Caesar
and the first thought anyone had
was how the Replacements sang
not of you
but a childish interpretation
of your idea

I'd like to think that your last thought
held the same circuitry that
lit your neurons in the shape of your band’s name
BIG STAR
convinced that it was an echo of fate
and not a talisman shaken at the specter
of obscurity

Does it burn you, even now
that most of these people
despite every eulogy, tribute, and cover
still don’t even know your name?
That your headstone
casts its shadow so much further
than any of the shattered 12 watt sparks
you bothered to leave behind?

Most of us, as artists
will never be Orion
but forgotten constellations, sought out
only by a few who know what they are looking for
Brilliant victims
of a callous astronomy

No millions of children
will ever sing emperor unto us
No arenas
The empty seats screaming Brutus into our backs
hunching shoulders into humble influence
Unwilling muses
forced into the modesty
of inspiration

We, have a choice
Either we see the way fame has
gnawed away the sinew of
every Caesar before us
leaving only bones to be crushed underfoot,
and run
or we
welcome the feast
all too eager to charge 10 times Judas' price to Christ
to eat of our body, refusing
to be ripped screaming from the spotlight
scared that the halo it gives us
will be the only one
we will ever wear

I fear
that I might be asking this all too late
like a regretful son,
begging forgiveness of his father's casket
but before you sleep
Alex, answer me this:
As your circuits flipped tilt
would you have traded your last 30 years
to finally overthrow Orion and scrawl your legacy
into the ink of night
or
are you happy
with the tiny corner of sky granted all of us
simply for surviving?

I’ve never been suited for royalty
My head hangs heavy enough without a crown
My needs are simple
food, clothing, shelter, and the breath it takes
to keep their threads spinning, simply
from my throats spun stories
As long as I got mind, heart, a gut, and a mouth
I will keeping shouting them out
and if even a fraction of these people
can recite them back after my passing
that
will be my legacy
and if I shuffle off this coil with
less than
dust lining my pockets and
my name stopped just short of celestial
I will still
call myself
a success