Sunday, January 17, 2010

Pass The Hat

You stand in hot uncomfortable noisy subways
Underneath the city
Musical notes intermingled with your passing jingle
Dollar bills and spare change find their way into your hat
You play and play until notes go flat
You are that street musician
the one to whom we seldom listen
Maybe you used to be somebody maybe you were never anybody
you’re here to make it big to get discovered and pick up gigs
You’re that subway musician where people are forced to listen
Your sets are quick in between the next train licks
Your audience never remains
They leave mid verse well before your last note
music jams with breaking steel wheels
Corporate high heels
You play along to public service out of service announcements
And the untimely wrong notes of closing subway car doors
Some got CD’s to sell
You’re homeless
A deranged junky
you don’t speak English
Trying to hustle in the rush hour bustle
Some stare many don’t care
Trapped inside their ipods
You play on though drowned out completely while trains come and go
You’re that subway musician sweat dripping on your instrument
You play for hours with no electric power
That street beat some smile tap their feet to your beat
Some look from encapsulated plastic covered windows at your non-stop show
Your music gets lost in the roar of subway wind you catch a short grin
Another dollar another dime another moment in 4/4 time

* Check out Saw Lady's blog by
Natalia Paruz where she posted this poem:

1 comment:

  1. Great poem!
    I'm a subway musician in NYC. I tell what happens when I play in the subway on my blog
    May I put your poem there, with a link back to your blog of course, please?

    All the best,

    Saw Lady


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