The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: NOTHING PURE

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: NOTHING PURE: Nothing Pure The devil wears black leather And drives a motorcycle made of different machines: Harley, Indian, Honda, Americ...

WRITING ORIGINAL

Writing Original

by ©Voo  (yeah, right!)

Summertime

and the living is easy....

No, wait!

That's  been done!

What am I thinking?

To be ! or not to be !

That is the.....

??????

What the hell??

Sorry, Will, old boy

Don't roll over in your grave

(I mean't no harm.)

She walks in beauty

Like the night....

Damn!

Damn!

Damn!

This is not going well.

Start again, shall we?

Ready, set, type!

Ahem!

Whenas in silks

My Julia goes......

OMG!

She walks in beauty like the night

Of cloudless climes and......

Heaven, help me!!!

Come live with me and be my love!

And we will all the pleasures prove

O, for the love of........!

When, in disgrace

With fortune and men's eyes

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments.....

(Yeah, yeah, that sounds good!)

What!!!!?????

What do you mean?????!!!!!!

Oh.

What about this, then?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night

Surely..... not!!!

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately....... 

Ancient!?   How ancient !!???

Old MacDonald had a farm

E I E I O!!!!!!

Whose woods these are I think I know

No?

Frost, you say?

As in David?

Robert?

Mother Who????

Blast it all!!!!!

Alright, one more time

One last, last time......

ONE FINAL, INSPIRED TIME.....

What if a much of a which of a wind

gives the truth to a summer's lie

There!

Good heaven's, man!!!!!!

Are there no bubbles left to be unburst????

This can only mean one thing!!!!!!

All the good stuff.........

Has already been written!!!!!!!

Curses!!!!

Yesterday......

All my troubles seemed

So far away

Now it looks as though.......

?   ???????????  The What???

Forget it!

I give up!

Here, take my pen, my paper,

My typewriter, my keyboard, my Blackberry

The dust on the window

The sand on the shore.........

I shall write

No

More.

Again.

Forever.

oh, wait!

A masterpiece

Just formed in my head.....

Oh, joy! Oh, rapture!

Wait for it.....

Wait.....

Ahhh!

And the word erupted sculpted and transfused

Confused in it's infancy of ink.......

What?!   Oh, give me a break!!!

You mean a Machine wrote this?!

A Word Machine??!

Well, that's it, then........

SIGH

*** last lines written by my buddy Jimmy, the Word Machinist. Lines so

 good I had to steal them.****

and

thanks to Shakespeare,

Herrick,

e.e. cummings,

Frost,

Paul McCartney 

and 

all 

the 

other

great

classic

poets

whose

works

I 

shamelessly

borrowed

here.............

SIGH

Prodigal

 

 

PRODIGAL

I LEFT MY HOME SOMETIME AGO

SO FOOLISHLY, SMUG AND VAIN

AND ALL I'VE THOUGHT OF SINCE I LEFT

IS GOING BACK HOME AGAIN.

I LEFT MY FATHER'S LAVISH MANSION

TO KNEEL IN THE MUD WITH THE SWINE

I HUDDLED AND FOUGHT FOR A BIT OF CORN HUSK

ON WHICH I WOULD HUNGRILY DINE.

SOMEHOW I THOUGHT THAT THINGS WOULD GET BETTER

AS I MADE MY OWN WAY THROUGH MY LIFE

WITHOUT HELP OR HAND FROM, GOD, SON OR MAN

BUT ALL I FOUND OUT THERE WAS STRIFE.

MY FATHER GAVE ME A GREAT INHERITANCE

AND I SQUANDERED AND THREW IT AWAY

ON PLEASURES AND LEISURE'S AND THINGS OF THE WORLD

AND SHAME IS ALL I HAVE TODAY.

HOW COULD I BETRAY MY FATHER'S TRUST?

HOW COULD I TURN AND LEAVE?

HOW COULD I LAUGH AND DANCE AWAY

AND LEAVE HIM THERE TO GRIEVE?

I NEVER PLANNED TO DO IT

I NEVER THOUGHT I COULD

TO BACKSLIDE WAS A FOREIGN THOUGHT

I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD.

I WONDER WHAT HE'D SAY TO ME NOW

IF I GAVE HIM AN OVERDUE CALL

HOW CAN I TELL HIM THAT I HAVE NOTHING LEFT

BUT LOST EVERYTHING IN THE FALL.

PERHAPS HE'LL LET ME SLEEP IN HIS BARN

AND THROW ME SOME CRUMBS EVERY NIGHT

PERHAPS HE'LL SCORN ME AND SCOURGE ME WITH WHIPS

AND TELL ME TO KEEP OUT OF SIGHT.

I WONDER WHAT MY BROTHER IS DOING

HE'S PROBABLY ARRAYED NOW SO FINE

EATING AND DRINKING AND TAKING HIS EASE

AND OWNING ALL THAT WAS ONCE PARTIALLY MINE.

MY FATHER PROBABLY LOVES HIM SO

AND HATES MY VERY NAME

HE PROBABLY LAVISHES HIS PRAISES ON HIM

AND NEVER WANTS TO SEE ME AGAIN.

WELL, TELL ME WHAT I HAVE TO LOSE

I'M SICK AND GASPING FOR BREATH

I FOUND THAT THE HEALTH AND THE WEALTH OF THE WORLD

WAS JUST EMPTY, DISILLUSIONING DEATH.

I SEE THE EDGE OF MY FATHER'S ESTATE

THE WHEAT FIELDS AND CORNFIELDS SO GREEN

I SEE THE GARDENS OVERFLOWING WITH PRODUCE

IT'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SIGHT I HAVE SEEN.

THERE ARE THE HORSES I USED TO RIDE

THERE COMES THE FAT LITTLE CALF

MY HUNGER GNAWS WITHIN MY FLESH

LIKE IT'S TEARING MY STOMACH IN HALF.

MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND IS WORKING THE FIELDS

MY BROTHER IS PICKING THE FRUIT

BUT WHERE IS MY FATHER AND WILL I SOON FEEL

ON MY POOR RAGGED BACKSIDE.....HIS BOOT?

AND SUDDENLY I SEE HIM THERE AT THE DOOR

AND OH, I MUST HAVE BLINDED EYES!

IT SEEMS TO ME THAT THERE'S A SMILE ON HIS FACE

AND IT LOOKS LIKE HIS ARMS ARE THROWN WIDE!

ONE STEP AND TWO AND NOW I AM RUNNING

AND MY FATHER IS RUNNING TOWARDS ME

ONE KISS, ONE EMBRACE AND NOW I AM WEEPING

AND MY FATHER IS WEEPING WITH ME.

" KILL THAT FATTED CALF!" SAYS HE

TO THE SERVANTS AS FEAR FLEES AWAY

"LAY ON THE TABLE A FEAST FOR A KING

AND TELL ALL, COME TO OUR HOLIDAY!"

NOW MY FATHER TAKES ME IN HIS ARMS

THE PLACE WHERE I KNOW I BELONG

HE PLACES HIS ROBE UPON MY TIRED SHOULDERS

AND SAYS TO ME SOFTLY "YOU'RE HOME."

 

 

©by Voo

When I first came to know the Lord

The Prodigal Son Story (Luke 15:11-32