waka of budouadana: Home

Home

Children grow up fast,
Safe in the home of their birth,
Then so quickly leave
To build their own lives elsewhere —
We do the same when we die.

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waka of budouadana: jes fer fun

True Harvest

The autumn harvest
Forces families to drive
Or fly far too far,
To test the bonds of kinship
By renewing old grudges.

as ye kin see, todays waka is a pairdee of yersterdys n probly closer to whut too minny folks ackshly duz. whenever we give thanks, i am speshly thankfull that our fambly gut over that minny a year ago.

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waka of budouadana: Harvest

Harvest

The autumn harvest
Brings families together
To commune, give thanks,
Renew the bonds of kinship,
And put aside old grudges.

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waka of budouadana: Pressure

Pressure

A blue sky, high winds,
Following three days of rain —
That change of pressure,
As dark clouds are blown away,
Spells anguish for migraineurs.

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waka of budouadana: Warning Signs

Warning Signs

Earthworms burrow deep
Bears gorge on fatty salmon
Squirrels hide acorns
Great gaggles of geese eat grass
Chilly breezes loosen leaves

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waka of budouadana: Response

Response

Migraine misery
Becomes an ingrained response
To weather and foods,
Even to strong pain killers,
Forcing long dead days in bed.

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waka of budouadana: Growing

Growing

During late autumn
Trees cling to fiery leaves;
Winter approaches,
North winds a cold reminder
That growing means letting go.

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waka of budouadana: Bodies

Bodies

The best estimates
Agree the population
Of human bodies
Exceeds ten billion life forms,
Without whom we could not live.

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waka of budouadana: Words

Words

Mere words do not kill,
At least not in an instant,
But in a lifetime
Enough verbal cruelty
Can reduce a life to naught.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: parade wuz a paradice fer pitcher takers

fer the most part, i lack to take pitchers of folk that dont know i am a'doin it, but whenever thays a parade, folks purty much eggspeck ye to take thar pitcher. at that greenwich village halloween parade twuz the same. ye could make eye contack with sumbidy n that wood be a nuff to take thar pitcher. heres a bakers duzen of em ...



























ifn ye wonta see all them pitchers frum halloween, jes foller this here lank.

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waka of budouadana: Sleep

Sleep

Buried in his cave,
The mighty bear does not die
Though he might seem dead —
Just as our long sleep of death
Is mere hibernation.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: a questchun ast by fletch

a few posts back, one of my favert fotogruffers, fletch of smokies light, ast a questchun in the comments:

Ok I know you shoot from the hip, but you look really close to these folks. When the shutter makes a noise from your hip, do they turn and look at you? Every time I see these type pics the thought of getting punched or slapped in the face occurs. But, I get that thought just thinking of visiting NYC much less taking pics, being a southern country guy and all.

fack is, i am rite on top of sum of these folks n a bidy mite could wunder why they dont objeck to thar pitchers bein tuck. corse, thays a cuple thangs goin fer me in the city n its enviruns.

1. thang number one bout the city is how tiz a verr noisy place, witch that means ye caint hardly here yerself thank, much less here a shutter a'goin off.


2. corse, he wuz reacktin to sum pitchers tuck on the bus. shorely them folk wood here a shutter a'clickin off? but thang is, folks up in here dont lack to be in publick even when they are, so they shut everthang out by puttin ear plugs (or ear buds) into thar ears with the musick cranked up loud a nuff that at times, a bidy kin here it a'leakin out. so they dont never here nuthin else.


3. then thays the fack that folks up in here know bout all them tursts wnaderin the streets takin pitchers to the point that they dont hardly thank bout it much


4. beesides that, did i menchun how tiz loud up in here?

innywho, heres a few pitchers i tuck tuther day ...

furst, tiz a sine of the times how thays more homeless in man hattan all the time ...




thays a hole lot of waitin fer trains in this here town ...


a nuther way to git candid pitchers of folks is to take em through the plastick winnders twixt two train cars ...


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waka of budouadana: Waiting

Waiting

Everlasting Death
Walks besides us, a stalker
Awaiting his chance,
Striking as our defense dip,
As our fate decrees, “Enough!”

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waka of budouadana: Too Late

Too Late

When Death comes calling
As it did for my father
With the screaming pain
Of pancreatic cancer,
It is too late to start loving.

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waka of budouadana: Laughter

Laughter

Incandescent smiles,
Fanned into flames of laughter
By kindly humor
And warm loving sentiment,
Kindle the warm glow of health.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: more pitchers frum the parade

i could rite more bout the eleckshun, but thats bout all ye kin see on tee vee or innywhar now. so heres a few more pitchers of that thar greenwich village halloween parade.











ifn ye wood lack to look at all them fotos i tuck at the 2008 greenwich village halloween parade, click this here lank.

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amazement of buddy don: still pinchin myself

me n miz bd couldnt go to bed till we herd the winner announced, witch we caint hardly bleeve thangs cum out lack they dun.

tiz a grate day fer these here united states. i half to add mitt that i never thunk i wood see such a thang, but tiz a thang of beeyooty. i real eyes that the challenges are nigh onto impossibull, but thays more to a eleckshun than choosin policy: thays also whut it duz in terms of leadin us cultchurally.

n that whar we are a'gone change n thats the only change that really matters.

i seen this here mannikin in a store befor the eleckshun, but i dint wonta publish a pitcher of it till the votin wuz dun on a counta i dint wonta janx nuthin ...



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reckomendayshuns of buddy don: vote!

me n miz bd gut in line about 5 mints after them polls opend, but we dint git to vote fer 1 hour n 45 mints! the jersy state guvner votes at the same precinct we do, so all the media ye kin magine wuz thar. he still had to wait in line n far as i know, he is a'waitin still.

we bin votin here in whut they lacks to call ny citys sixth boro fer eight years, but we aint never had to wait ere now. even in 2004 we wuz in n out in no time.

but them lines is wurth it when yer part of histry bein made.

vote yall!

yall vote!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: spooky parade in the village

after wurk on fridy, i tuck myself over to spring street n 6th avenue whar i snuck in n ackted lack i wuz a perfesshunull fotogruffer. twuz a lucky move on a counta not long afterds they woodnt let nobidy thru. i parkd myself next to the marshalls that wuz lettin folks thru that wuz part of the parade, witch i tuck thar pitchers as quick as they gut tharself past the barracade.

later on i gut stuck in the crowd, so i figgerd i could jes climb the barrier n walk out into the parade lack tuther perfesshunulls, n once i wuz out thar, nobidy made me quit. i tuck nigh onto 1,000 pitchers n a few of em cum out ok.

problem wuz, of corse, that twuz nite, n the lite wuz terrbull. i jes jacked up the iso n used the flash whar i could. corse that ment sum of them pitchers turnt out grainy, but whut ye a'gone do?

furst off, thay wuz plenty of the unded thar ...


this feller tells me i orta have dun seen the dark knight, witch i reckun i wooda gut his constume better ifn i had seen it ...


thay wuz a slew of jesuses thar, who they all seemd to hart obama ...


parnts cum all dressd up ...


n brung thar kids ...


thay wuz plenty of odd cuples thar ...


thay wuz poe-leece thar, bof fake ...


n real ...

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