I'm a DJ, a Disk jockey.
My fingers are like a jockey stick.
I breathe and live House music.
The first descendant of Disco music.

I'm the descendant of Frankie Knuckles.
My tunes ease listener's glooms.
I'm a predator, music beats are my prey.
House music is the only language I understand.
I busk locally and internationally.

I'm a beast, not just any beast.
Beast that play 4/4 repetitive beats.
I play tunes that move with heart beats.
My tunes aren't restricted to race or religion.
Behind the deck, I'm thee "House beast"

Oh my time fades away
In the evening
Tuning myself
To your tunes!
Oh a string of the ektara(a stringed musical instrument)
Cannot bear!
The melody
Of this song!
With you
Again and again
I have accepted
My defeat
In this playful game!
Oh tuning myself to your tunes
Oh this string of mine
Is tuned to a note so near
Oh that flute but plays far
Oh on the shores
Of the glorious acts
Of this melodious song
In reaching there to be lost
In you
Can everyone succeed?
Oh in the palace
Of the heart of hearts
Of this world
To weave a mesh
Of soulful raga-raginis(tunes)
Oh tuning myself to your tunes
Happily I do get lost
Oh my time fades away
In the glories
Of this evening!

y
o
u
r
eyes
have lights
with (cosmic) glow
i hope You know the Light
You hOMe; Your heaven-sent
enzymes align to roam & tangle
with the roots of the ones that i own
your storms are divine, the rocks that
You climb are leading you to Love
from past dimensions of time
there is no thing to do
but to (Love) all
of You
as
You
let Love
be what
does lead
all You may do
so that some day that
force finds its way back to You
as it forms light from (tunes) that
You (sing) to the moon; it will
paint You with gold stars
that flow right (through)
You & the trees You
had bloomed in
the forrest of
You will all
dance to
the falls
that led
(You)
back
to
Y
o
u

The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair

Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"

The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall

He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play

"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung

He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune

Cy went to the pawn stores  back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task

"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"

He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"

"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy

"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"

The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air

Your guitar speaks a lot about you.
Through the songs you sing,
and the tunes you play.