David of The Day

David of the Day

davids populate our myths

they fill legendary roles

davids slew the tall, tall titans

back in days of old.

davids climbed the mountains

davids rowed the seas

davids flew in skies of blue

and davids felled the trees.

davids wrote the poetry

davids sang the songs

davids filled our hearts with praise

made merry all day long.

davids made the history

I've studied my life through

and all of them have fascinated

but none, my friend, like you.

you are a man of much, much worth

that the world can't take away

I tip my hat and give my heart

to the David of the day.

©by Voo

March 26, 08

posted today for my dear friend, David Salinas

Insurmountable Odds

Insurmountable Odds

Against insurmountable odds he stands
A survivor in the wars of life
Expecting never to be whole again
Though he has crumbled in the stress and strife.

But in the fighting with and the fighting against
The giving up and the giving in
It's made him stronger, wiser and sweeter
And a better man than he might have been.

Losing sometimes gives you gains
Like gaining sometimes makes you lose
The things that mean the most to you
And often forces you to choose.

No one chooses to suffer loss
For eyes can't see the greater good
That often comes in the midst of hell
And makes us do that thing we should.

For wisdom comes with experience
And experience with pain
And heartache comes from reaching out
And love with reaching out again.

So the man stands there with smiling face
Wondering why he has not died
He doesn't see the strength I see
Living joyfully inside.

From life to death and back again
The journey inches onward
The trail gets cold, gets lost, grows old
But one day will point him homeward.

And all will be laid out to see
The Whys, the Whos, the Wheres
The insurmountable odds and the roads that were trod
And the treasures that wait for him there.

©by Voo

Jan 31, 2005

written in a dream last night,

typed out at 11:30 a.m.

Storm on the Tip of My Finger

STorm On THe TiP oF My FInGeR

Rage flashed through me like a river overflowing it's bounds

The rage of life that sometimes takes me when I least expect it

The rage of love that carries me away like an unmoored boat on a defiant tide

And breaks me there upon the rocks, unmercilessly pounding and pounding

Until I disintegrate into shards of heart and mind and soul

It caught me just now and blew me away with it's ferociousness

I wanted to hate something but I didn't know what to hate

I wanted to kill something but I didn't know what to kill

I wanted to love somebody but I didn't have anybody to love

I never felt so alone.

For some crazy reason, I flashed back to Christmas time

And the wreaths that hung upon the door and the holly in the window

And the caroles filling the kitchen air like the flour from the cookie dough

The soft, sweet smell of pinetree wafting through my impatient dreams

As I slept, one eye open, for the first crack of sunlight to beckon me down to paradise

Then I found out there was no such thing as Santa and I haven't trusted a damn thing

Anybody's ever told me since! 

There wasn't any Easter Bunny either and no Tooth Fairy and no Thanksgiving Turkey

(Well, there was a thanksgiving turkey but everything else was a pack of lies!

I get so tired of being lied to. Don't people get tired of lying?

That girl promised me we'd be together and love each other and hold each other

In the midst of the baddest storms and nothing could ever change that

And nothing did. She just stopped loving me and walked away. And what could I say?

Oh, I see? It's Christmas time all over again, right? Just another myth and fable to fill 

Up the hearts of the innocent to make them feel special and not forgotten.

It was a Lie!

And now this lie that makes all over lies pale in comparison!

 The ultimate lie. The lie of love.

But no matter, I'm over it. It's done. Finished. Everything's all under control now. Calm.

But the rage came again today and covered me in memories and mistletoe 

And kisses in the snow

I wish it'd let me go. Just let me go for as I type this,

 I feel a storm beginning in my fingertip and I

try to hold it back but all I really want to do is point it at the world
 And burn it down like it's burned

Me down for years. The storm rages on and I let it lead me and I follow.
 I don't know where it's taking me but I'm going. 

Maybe I'll just put it in your face and let you feel the terror 
I feel now that I am alone and unloved. Maybe that's all I'll do.
 Just put that bad boy in your face and say "See! See what you did!

Then I'll walk away and keep walking till the rage runs out
 And I feel ok again and I'l go home and sit down

And be myself until the next time that I think of you
 Or Santa or the Tooth Fairy and how I fell for all that.

I don't know.The rage knows. The finger knows.
 The finger with the storm brewing in it's tip. Lightning flashing 

Like a hurricane on the ocean. But it's just emotion.
 And It doesn't hurt anyone but me.

©by Voo Shining Stone

 sept 15, 05

 3 a.m
for Mark

My Worst Poem Ever in memory of William McGonagall, known as the Worst Poet in History!

https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/features/the-story-of-william-mcgonagall-the-worst-poet-in-the-history-of-the-english-language-829993.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tay_Bridge_Disaster
known as the worst poem ever written! Well, mine is pretty bad!

Why is William McGonagall the worst poet?

McGonagall has been lampooned as the worst poet in history. The chief criticisms are that he was deaf to poetic metaphor and unable to scan correctly. His only apparent understanding of poetry was his belief that it needed to rhyme.

https://mypoeticside.com/poets/william-topaz-mcgonagall-poems

Please read some of his poetic MONSTROSITIES before you
read my poem below so you will understand what I was going for.
His work is very bad. Very funny and at the same time you feel so
sorry for the man and his sincerity that you want to give him a hug.
Bless his heart.....💝

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN

Forsooth! I said and sadly smiled
The day had ended on our lovely while
The sun was settng, the night had come
And you ran to your ship and I, to my home.

All night in my bed I clutched the lock
Of your curly red hair and that pair of your socks

Remembering the light in your eyes when you yawned
And the fair way you shivered
In the midst of the dawn.

Oh, Captain, my Captain, the love of my life
How I long to be first mate of your ship (and your wife)
How long must I wait to hear you say the words?
And to feel your heart beating
Like a wild flock of birds?

Was it only last week that we met
 There in port?
And we shared that wee whiskey
That made us tipsy and snort?

When you sailed away
 And swore to return
How my poet's heart ached
Aand my tummy did burn.

Then you sailed back to my arms
For the space of a day
Now your ship calls you to her

And my life is not gay.



THE END

(Lord, I hope so)
©by Voo
though I hate to claim it
Some time in the past
Probably tipsy on
Boone's Farm  Strawberry wine
But we won't discuss that.....

CRESCENT MOON ON THE HIGHWAY

     (start song  before reading)

Crescent Moon On The Highway

Lying here on this cold and misty Sunday afternoon

Cat at my feet on his blanket

The threat of rain outside my shuttered windows

I listen to Villanelle For Our Time by the master

Of the rough and tender voice

His verse running down my spine like a lover's fingers

Crooning bittersweet lyric into my ears with his distant tongue

The melody caresses me and makes me senseless

As he repeats "bitter searching of the heart" over and over and over

Until images conjure up from memory and lay themselves down

Upon my mind.

You, in that convertible under the stars on that long ago highway

We were laughing like mad people, kissing, more than paying attention

Music soaring on the tape deck 
And ebbing off behind us with the desert wind

My hair whipping around us like long black scarves

And thinking that if I could die of joy, then I would surely die

We were racing under clear cold skies looking for rain and storm

Loving lightning and angry clouds

But finding none, we drove on into the night

Listening to Leonard and holding each other hard enough to bruise.

Look, baby, you said and pointed to a crescent moon
Hanging low in the sky on the side of the highway 
A hundred miles from nowhere

And we pulled over 
And danced underneath that moon

Toasted it with champagne and kisses no one had ever kissed before

While the music trailed off into silence and clicked to a stop
As we stood in the glow of the headlights,
Our eyes locked onto one another

And our hearts as close as hearts can be.

That long ago highway 
And that crescent moon and you

With your crooked smile and wind blown hair

How it all comes back to me now

Damn you, Leonard, with your bitter searching of the heart
and your rough and tender poet's voice

Bringing the past alive and spotlighting the present
with it's loneliness

And loss.........................

Damn you, Leonard.

©by Voo

December 5, 2005

5 p.m.

  BLESS YOU, LEONARD