Brooklyn Go Hard Morning ~ Raunchy, gritty, grungy, hardcore, dirty, filthy, artsy-craftsy, petal soft primal woodsy, wild. Designer baby strollers, Citi-Bike riders, health food buyers, vegan organic garden juxtaposed within a few blocks of BodegaLand wilted fruit, shrunken veggies, seven churches on one block, artery clogging foods, liquor stores, Loosies, shopping cart pushing poverty stricken poor beings hustling up another meal from the local food pantries. The B25 Bus will take you to all worlds in one short ride.
Bumble Bee Buzz Razor sharp concepts ideas, plans, exciting, off the chain, rose scented thorns up your crazy cool a$$ fantasy, all the way live, drama, Elegance, earthy, witty, Wow! The Borough of Kings filled with Queens. City of Dreams. Poems and Schemes. Living the Grind to expand my mind. Peace out!!!!!!!!!
Brooklyn Evening Downstream Rush
Brooklyn ~ Land of Drama and Dreamers, Hipsters, Hucksters and Healers, Shirkers and Workers……
Amidst the filth, dirt and refuse he sits. Sleeping dog by his side. I stopped. I had to stop for my Guardian Angel bid me pause.
As I got closer I realized underneath the grit and grime of Broadway Junction, the light deprived space next to a ramshackle breakfast, bagel, Danish, egg sandwich cart was a white man possibly in his 30s or early 40s. Unwashed tousled hair steady gaze. Hoping. Wishing. Praying that passersby will stop, recognize him a human in distress only needing a few dollars which more than likely will be used to buy dog food for faithful canine companion and maybe whatever the food cart was not able to sell during the day.
In him I see me. I was almost there. Paid my rent. Nothing left to buy food for either myself or my two feline friends. I prayed and my Guardian Angel caused the local junkies to drop $9.00 on my doorstep. Nine whole dollars which went to Fancy Feast for my beloved cats who love me down and out, rich or poor, in sickness and in health.
Was this man who sits peacefully and patiently once a King, an Emperor, and a contender for something greater than a Brooklyn street? Today he is a homeless man his only companion his faithful dog who arose in friendly anticipation of monetary dispensation. Only $2.00. That’s all I could give him today. Wish I could have given more. He generously thanked me. I saw his heart through his eyes.
Maybe once he was a Warrior, now beset by the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune. Did Desert Storm take the wind out of his sails? Who or what abandoned him to this desolation of watching teeming hordes of semi-purposeful beings trod the garbage strewn path to catch departing buses and subway trains to who knows where? In another life was his ever present Prince Valiant Pup a trusty steed in King Arthur’s court? Did he reign over the Knights of the Round-table? How came he to this ignoble end, yet still maintain a semblance of dignity?