Best Buss Poems
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
I wrote this non fiction poem
For Debra Jean..
(C)London F. BuSS. 2022
Walk on Water
I was a tear drop in your ocean
I was a ship wreck in your sea
And now you won't even…. talk to me
Now you're walking on water
just to walk away from me.
I'm holding a picture of you
and its slowly fading ….A…way,
I warned you about Katie and Pete
kissing yeah kissing!
Right In front of me!
So, you killed the messenger
And the mess..en..ger was me.
Now you're walking on water
just to walk away from me.
I was a tear drop in your ocean
Another shipwreck drowning in your sea.
I’m holding a picture of you its slowly fading from me.
I'm sitting here just dying
Dying all alone.
I'm painting a picture of you but
I can't remember the color of your eyes.
Are they green, hazel or blue.
So, in December I'm going for
A long walk in the mountain snow
And I'm never coming back to you.
I was a tear drop in your ocean
A shipwreck in the sea.
So you're still walking on water to walk away from me
(c) London F. BuSS. 2024
1. Title: Zeal
You always chide me,
Though I accept it as carol.
You have had always cider,
Though I enjoy in my havel.
It's my real life chic,
So, I remember your chuckle.
But you thought yourself as a 'Cinderella',
So, you play with flake.
But I came to know ,
You are other's chummy.
And my love for you
Just like a jestingly.
I had a wish to 'Buss'
Where as you described it as a Tu-Whit.
T-Would be ugh for me,
Because for you I've to pay some fee.
I always remember your preety face,
Though you left my hand in race.
Regain to you isn't possible,
It's my error to remove tears fall.
Your love becomes hard to get,
But i only scold to my fate.
Now, nothing stays to say you,
Except a syllble I love you.
I pray with almighty,
Your life may full of happiness and baunty.
The One
by Rick Rucker
When you have found “The One,”
That person that outshines the Sun,
Then you will understand the fuss,
Your heart convinced with the first buss!
Your lack of focus is normal, don't worry,
Love will guide your heart, don't hurry,
True Love is the force that cures,
Your heart of all the past sutures!
True Love has the power to change,
Your mind, to rearrange
Your whole life,
To take a husband, or a wife.
If all your life, you've lived alone,
Talking to suitors on the phone,
It's so nice to sit together,
Without the phone cord acting as a tether.
Something as simple as holding hands,
Takes on new meaning with wedding bands.
A wedding changes everything,
Makes you feel a Queen, or King!
That this person wants to spend
Their life with you, 'til the end.
What might have started out with lust,
Has ended with a promise: 'til dust!
Marriage won't be only Wedded Bliss,
But if each day starts and ends with a kiss,
Doing this, and other things,
Will mean you don't have to pawn your rings!
If you don't marry, out of fear
Angel's bells you'll never hear.
That gentle tinkling far away,
The one that makes you want to stay.
Imagine your surprise,
When you look into your lover's eyes,
Your Love, your spouse,
The one that shares with you a house.
Being in Love, after decades still,
Each one feeling marriage is a thrill
How long can True Love last?
I'll tell you when a century's passed!
“Cream Pie”.
We never took a chance,
We wouldn’t make the time.
And I just didn’t care if you were mine?
No now you’re here,
and now I'm there.
You took his love, and his name,
then you married him, to get out of the rain.
And I just don’t care, is there something wrong?
With me?
You’re with him now,
but you can’t say, why?
and he dirties up, the floor,
smearing greasy fingers on decaffeinated walls
and down the hall, the road is overgrown,
all your butterflies have died.
Your river of love, has run dry,
I never said hello,
You never said… goodbye.
And we danced through the
And we danced through a dream.
I've lost all your letters.
I'm staring at the calendar on the door?
Cheap wine burns holes in my memories.
Climbing the walls with my fingernails.
But I just keep falling down,
again, and again, blood smears,
no tears on the ceiling…
I feel your burning embers,
A storm in the distance.
I don’t know what to say as, I walk through the sunset,
the darkness into the rain, again.
When the raging river, runs free,
and the wildfires have died,
you'll have no love,
and you'll have no pride,
Wake me up from this dream,
Only then will I eat… your cream pie….
in the rain.
I wanna eat your cream pie,
in the rain.
Written for Diane S Tar??.
Its also written about you..
(c) London F. Buss
[starboard port]
the ocean—an onyx plate predawn—
somnambulant ships preen with a swag of
warning lights
massive hulls: cargo ships, flotillas, tankers,
passenger liners loll; red lights buss
the somber slate of sky—spangled strings of
bawdy bulbs on the riggings—pole dance
beside the quay—ridged, behemoth smokestacks
toy with the flames of gold and white
[cabin’s lav—occupied]
waiting, my mind trundles to funeral pyres
Viking ships, then returns to marvel at
on-coming airport pot lights which
upstage the walled gasps
[very occupied]
the exodus to Singapore crescendos
we land—manned the plane performs
a ritual slide—ash and steam spew from
stacks of the other perpendicular
members
Touch down.
[the door opens]
First Published by Shooter Literary Magazine Spring of 2017
* There is one person I would bring back in a heartbeat, and that's my favorite human being of all-time, Walt Whitman - he literally changed my life with his poetry, and brought true beauty and joy to my life. Never underestimate the power of words. *
__________________________________________________
Oh, My Dear Walter, how your words have slayed,
Humbled me, broken me, molded and remade.
To taste of your world, see above or below it,
Wit of a wordsmith, wry pith of a poet ...
To so construe love without using the phrase,
Scrawl the sinew of war, yet delight in the days.
To yawp of the grass - journeywork of the stars,
Help revivify a nation, attend to its scars.
Find grace among horrors, sift beauty from death,
The soul-pull of tides - briny buss of their breath.
To habit us all ... to the dazzle of light,
Celebrate ourselves, bequeath us the night.
Ask recurring questions of romance and life,
Of presidents, bootsoles, and a moldering strife.
Demons and mockingbirds, Paumanok's dunes ...
The pale, horrid witness of unstinted moons.
'Twas sad-blown, a bugle, convulsed, was a drum,
Yet exquisite, the dirge for a soldier and son.
The sorrow of clouds in a ravening sky,
The weep of a child should the Pleiades die.
Knit airy-fresh words, with uncommon phrases,
Draw Apollo and Neptune in all of their phases.
Be there adoration as hapless as mine?
Yet no soul more ardently leveled, supine ...
No writer has reached deeper into my heart,
Idioms and phrases ... such allurement, impart.
Ah, yes, what I'd give to have just one chat,
With the rare human being who afforded all that.
And maybe I'm biased, if perhaps to a fault,
But the name of MY Captain, O Captain ...
Is WALT.
Costa Rica Tour
Sit right back and I’ll tell you all
About our recent trip
Somewhere in Costa Rica
We left our cruise line ship
The bus ride – uneventful
Out through the country side
The vistas were fantastic
Then came the bumpy ride
The bus jerked to the left side
Then right back to the right
Those seated at the windows
Received a dreadful sight
On the left side was a rock wall
The other naught but air
And with each bump the bus took
We feared we’d end up there
The road up through the forest
Was narrow and was steep
With hair-pin turns and pot holes
And ruts that ran feet deep
We left the bus and took a walk
Through forest’s canopy
A Toucan, a king Vulture
Were two birds we did see
Then over in the distance
Up there among the trees
Suspension bridges crossed a gorge
And there were three of these
At first some folks were nervous
The tension you could feel
Then one by one we crept across
These swinging trails of steel
Then half way through the first one
We ran into some bees
They stung us in our elbows
They stung us in our knees
With flailing arms and legs we fought
The bridge began to swing
Somehow we made it over
Despite the swing and sting
The next bridge was a swinger
Much more so then the first
And once across that swing bridge
We hoped it was the worst
But number three was high and long
And appeared need of repair
It bounced, it swung, it creaked and moaned
So high up in the air
And once across, we turned around
And crossed that bridge again
Back to the buss after that walk
We gladly climbed back in
And then it rained, and rained some more
Then the heavens opened wide
Down muddy roads in pouring rain
The bus and we did slide
We stopped then in a garden
Our noon time meal we had
That native food sure hit the spot
And wasn’t all that bad
With rice and beans and chicken broiled
And ever so much more
Out on a porch, out of the rain
It warmed us to the core
And when the rain let up a bit
The garden we explored
The fan palms and the waterfall
Were simply just adored
All that was left, the bus ride back
To board our cruise line ship
And that concludes the story of
Our Costa Rica trip
EVERYTHING WAS CREATED BY THE ALMIGHTY MAN
FOR EVERYTHING TO BE CONTROLLED AND ROLLED BY MAN
THE FOWLS, THE CREATURES, THE EARTH
EVERY LIVING AND NONE LIVING THINGS MAN
SO WHY ON EARTH THE MAN DEM SIT DOWN ON THE STREET CORNER ONLY WANT TO
SMOKE, DRINK AND BUSS GUN MAN.
WHILE THE LAND THAT WAS FRUITFUL AND NUTRISHING A DRY UP MAN.
AND A DEM SAME ONE A TALK BOUT, “NOTHING NA GONE.”
AND IS NOT EVEN LAST YEAR, NOR LAST WEEK, BUT A EVERYDAY MAN.
“SPECCC! NICE LADY, SPARE ME A MINUTE NO MAM.
HEY! I CAN GIVE YOU THE WORLD YOU KNOW MAM!”
RIGHT AWAY YOU AND I KNOW A PLAN HIM A PLAN TO THIEF TO MIND A NEXT MAN
WOMAN
AND ALL DEM CONCERN IS TO SAMBLE THE PAM-PAM
AND CAN’T EVEN AFFORD TO BUY A CONDOM MAN
MEN! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU MAN?
YOU DON’T REALIZE THAT TECHNOLOGY IS INCREASING MAN
AND YOU A SELL YOURSELVES MAN
FIRM UP YOURSELVES, EDUCATE YOURSELVES AND BECOME AN INTELLIGENT MAN
STOP! WASTE TIME SMOKING, DRINKING, SHOOTING AND KILLING MAN
AND BECOME THE NEW GENERATION, OF A RIGHTEOUS MAN
Mocking Bird
Mocking Bird Mocking bird can't fly,
Mocking bird can't sing,
Mocking Bird is unable to walk.
She's not allowed to do anything.
Cold naked, all alone,
in dark dirty room that,
daddy calls her home.
Strapped in a straitjacket,
and chained to a chair,
hosed down and beaten every day,
never even allowed to cry.
not a word,
Her daddy wanted it that way.
Daddy called it love.
The last exit to hell in,
in the city of angels, a town they call L.A.
For twelve long years,
Her daddy kept her that way.
At night her daddy force feeds her slops
then chains her to her bed.
They found her when she turned thirteen
Labelled her the feral wild, child.
So she blames herself,
for her life that never was.
And She dreams in echoes of a life that might have been.
The experts and lawyers fought over her night and day,
At the last exit to hell
In the City of Angels, a town they call L.A
Mocking bird can’t sing,
Mocking bird can’t talk,
Mocking Bird cant even walk.
But she can only hop like a rabbit.
And She is now a free bird,
but she is still locked away,
At the last exit to hell in a town called L.A.
She dreams in echo's,
of a life that might have been,
And the mocking bird is now a Mocking Jay
Foe, she does not exist either way.
Even now She's locked in dark dirty room
that's black, blue and gray .
that The State of California calls her home.
Locked away in the City of Angels
A city they call L.A.
Echoes of a life that might have been.
Locked away in the City of Angels
A town called L.A.
Echoes of a life, that might have been.
that might have been,
In HELL a HELL they call L.A.
(c) London F. BuSS 2022 Coochie Road Australia.
Note. this is a true story, when she was discovered, she couldn't walk (she could hop like a rabbit). She was chained to a chair for 13 years. She couldn't feed herself; she couldn't cry, she couldn't talk (even now she cannot speak whole sentences. She is regarded as highly intelligent but State of California still has her locked away in hell.
There once was a boy name Billy
who had a good friend in Philly
He took the wrong bus
and created a fuss
and now he's sittin there chilly
There once was a boy named Billy
The cold made his skin look hilly
he went through the door
and fell on the floor
making him look rather silly
There once was a boy named Billy
who sat on the floor looking silly
He got to his feet
and started to tweet
how he missed his bus going to Philly
*** Note This is a true story. I came up with it while walking my dog by the greyhound
buss station. This guy Named Billy was setting out side yelling in to a cellphone on how
he missed his bus to Philly then he went in to the buss station and fell as he went
through the door. es 1/28/2011
2006 Fifa World Cup, ah jump and celebrate Trinidad in it
But yuh know de saying, after joy is sorrow sh…..t
Yeah boy, all skin teeth eh laugh
Trinidadians like too much bacchanal
Band yuh belly or just eat a food nah
Behind back is dog’, before face is Mr. Dog ha!
Geographically behind God back is Switzerland
Shush! Bush have ears, corruption in Fifa and other far away land
Well there is something brewing, something cooking up
Come hell or high water America aim for control, headquarters swoop
Yuh hear comess
Corbeau doh eat sponge cake or wear dress
Ey, cut eye doh kill
Dis corruption thing is ah skill
De mark buss
De gloves are off who come fuss
Boy beat the Iron while it hot
Yuh ‘WARNER’ retire to be free ah what
Well de mango doh fall far from the tree nah
Yuh either a Havelange, a Blatter or ah ice Glazer
Doh drink tea too sweet for nobody fever
Doh cut off yuh nose tuh spoil yuh face forever
Fifa put de cart before the horse
Scandal and corruption investigation enforced
Empty vessels make de most noise
Whether partnership or independent every bread have he cheese
Remember goat doh make sheep
So whichever leader ent going to care
He/she doh eat nice de say causing fear
I dey with dem jus come attitude about de same old stuff
Doh like tuh wok and jus loll off
I am just a simple storyteller
Political LEXOPHILIA
©Copyright June 9, 2015 by Brian PierreNasia Alexander
There was a young man who got mad at us
He started to fume and to fuss and cuss
He said as he sighed
We had definitely lied
When we called his butt a blunderbuss
We surmised he was somewhat in a rut
A dufus, a jerk, anti social, cyber nut
We said with a grin
As we reeled him in
Not Blunder”buss” but a blunderbutt
He said why do you make fun of it
Why laugh and make jokes lacking wit
You know very well
A tale is a tale
A blunderbutt has no where to sit
© Mar 03 2010 Charles Henderson
"a sweet venom" the song of a young men enlighted by the spirit of wisdom to descern the sweet caved danger of his winter blankets
"a sweet venom" the anthem of a concerned student realising the sweet death of his winter blankets
a sweet venom are the winter warmth you offer to offer my downfall
a sweet venom are the warm tender kisses you enslave me with to make me miss my buss
when the earliest bird catches the fattest worm your sweet warm hugs takes me to eagles wings, i reach glorious heights but left to crash on the day of reaping
sweet venom your charms sweet talks me into snoozing my alarm a minute or two to too many_an hour
sweet venom today is the day of reaping where is your warm mascular shoulders of comfort
SWEET VENOM STOP WASTING MY TIME-MY MONEY
inspired by exam timss
dedicated to all students
“Santa Anna Wind”.
© London F. Buss
Don’t fear sadness, only shadows,
who come through walls,
It's always now and always then.
It's loneliness never ends,
even after you him. yes him.
Only money it seems can buy a friend.
She hates herself; ugliness never ends.
trampled under a calloused love.
She wants to die just to feel love.
Happiness is a dream?
But her daughter, she’s so young,
she just don’t know.
he danger in his eyes,
Tangled knots in her hair, isn’t love.
His lies laid bare.
Just as well it’s cold as hell,
she got summer in her smile.
He got his hand on her thigh,
hands playing with her tities.
Footsteps going, going, gone.
He wouldn’t wait a while.
What would you say?
He tore up your yesterdays,
Pink Cadillac is parked out back,
doing the back seat boogie,
Now, she got winter on her mind.
Cadillac heater making her unwind,
Rain filled heart, smoke filled fears,
your thawing out in his arms
You’re screaming in pain Steaming.... up the widows.
and you’re on the wrong side of town.
Has daddy seen you, you're not sure?
Worn out promises, practiced lies,
too late to change her mind.
He made a mess,
Cumming over your confirmation dress,
She's only eleven and got summer on her mind.
Her daddies’ footsteps sealed his fate.
Saw her panties on the floor.
12-gauge shotgun… buckshot roars.
He's just a dying, lying, twitching, on the floor.
Santa Anna winds don’t blow this far north.
He won’t come knocking on her door,
Not no more, he killed little her blue bunny,
He won’t come knocking on her door,
Not no more,
He killed little her blue bunny,
ripped it apart is lying helpless, screaming on the floor,
Santa Anna winds don’t blow this far north.
Santa Anna winds don’t blow this far north.
He won’t come knocking on her door,
Not no more,