Long Busking Poems

She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it...

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Somewhere to go to beat your drum
someplace to be to sing at the top of your lungs
a way of life of politicians and gypsies alike
the church of musicology is now accepting donations
and of course every...

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It came from a beloved book; the dream
Long lost, or so I thought,
which told: Go to your Turkey
and meet the Rumi in your dreams;
to complete his story; if I were the
story teller,destined,
for love comes from...

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For diverse ranged interests, in prose and paint, speech annoted by body, frisbee 
aflight or as busking bowl.

Writing poetry, sitting or standing, thought on title, concept craving to be told, 
calligraphy ink to unlined leaf.
and...

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I left, 
I left my homeland.
I would have loved  to stay.

Down memory lane...
Rocked by sleeves with love,
All stared with love.
Love never crossed my mind,
It was always in my mind.
That was life.
Love was life.

Busking in...

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I have got no doubt twenty years from now
I’ll transform myself into fragrant air
To write rhymes as you’ll come under the bough
So fondly I’ll raise those rings in your hair

The poor guy busking in the...

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Festival of the Fools!

Festival of the Fools
in which is celebrated in different culture as different names
originally celebrated by most cultures on January first
which was first coined in Great Britain in 1861
celebrates inclusive art of busking...

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He goes by the name of Dizzy, for he is a dancing dervish
               On the banjo his fingertips always pick’n a...

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A voice of pure honey
Too bad you have that face
Busking in this alley
Seems an appropriate place

You are so skilled
Woodcarving is in your soul
Without that wheelchair
You could be free to go

....where words don't cut

You ruin everything
Can't...

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Listen to the music of centuries
Remembering looking toward peace
"We must disentral ourselves"
The congressmen
Big black tires
Big black men,black suits
Siphoning your GRIT
The corporate war profiteers
Who are they as bats at night
Chameleons in all natures
Camouflaged at appropriate times
Demagogues!the...

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hanging straps and travel apps.
beeping doors and littered floors.
rocking cars and metal bars.
rattling track and aching back.
ticket fare and lack of air.
bags on lap and 'mind the gap'.
heavy heat now WARREN STREET:


Way Out. 
Places.
Platform spaces.
Cell...

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I’m in the band called “Beg Your Pardon”
Our latest, “The Luddits Headway”
Sells well, and the “Forest of Arden”
Our hit, has got some airplay
There ain’t no plans for touring though:
The phase of changes lingers on
Our singer...

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Before the black man's turmoil was his foster
And race amongst them was an imposter too
No wonder I grew to watch from a black and
White television set... from infancy to juvenile

Ages had past, each day break...

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If I believed, I wouldn’t pray 

to thank god for the light of day

less likely still is that I might

thank him for the dark at night.

I'd ask if life could please be more 

than constant...

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Buskers

So much fluff
And not enough
Of the real stuff
That life is made of.

Buskers in parks and on corners
Play for money and exposure,
And liven up drab quarters
By entertaining onlookers.

Slow down life’s pace,
Hesitate and listen
To these street musicians,
And...

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She was round and huge, larger than all, 
She was everything I wanted in one,
That’s why I’m here busking today, 
Seeking a perpetual fund,

To rebuild her from scratch, pay for the trades, 
Pay for the...

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I struggled between millions of sperm
And I made it to conception 
I came as morrow
I was happy and proud
That I would grow into a feotus;
I didn’t miss my brothers and sisters
Even as I bade them...

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For the thrill of writing to be exciting a reading mind…
by taking the time to write a rhyme in rhythm…
shot from this poetry imprisoned prism like mind of mine….
I’m tussling words like a busker busking...

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She cursed me so politely
That I dare not accuse her of kindness
It would be insulting to the Queen of Shade
She’s casting shadows and tossing buses
Under overpasses I’m busking
I’ll take some bittersweet tea
With my seven grains...

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