busker.

I m listening to Regina Spektor ‘Soviet Kitsch’ on repeat for days now.
I ve finally managed to get ‘Chemo Limo’ out of my head
but its been replaced with ‘Ghost of Corporate Future’
and ‘Carbon Monoxide’

unfortunately her songs are hard to play on the guitar
and her piano sounds so amazing anyway
I tried to play ‘Norwegian Wood’ today
but I cant hit the right notes to sing along
i blame the ear infection

Margaret Thatcher is dead. Bobby Sands rolls in his grave.
This Saturday there will be a big anarchist party on Trafalgar Square
organised by Class War

I have to write it down, before it slips away
what it was like to be a busker
i miss it, grafton street dublin. the old lady
asking me to play Eibhlín O Rún
on the sax
if you hum it, i say,
i can play along

in the south of lanzarote
i drink sangria
and play to the lunchtime tourists
marta finds me while looking for her runaway hat
‘we looked everywhere for you’ she says
‘even the airport’
but i was on the street.
i didnt know where else to go
i d only headed south
like a bird.

it was in sardinia that stromec
locked eyes with me
while playing the Masada for a terrasa
i couldnt breathe. it was hard
to blow the horn
my headrush could have been
anything, really

i miss templebar
and phelim passing round the hat
to collect the coins after we d played our set
i miss phelim.
bobby sands rolls in his grave too, sweetheart.

these days you need
a licence to play music,
it seems.