Big Foot now with song video

 

BIG FOOT

SIZE 52 SHOES WERE LIKE A DREAM TO HIM

BUT HE WOULD NEVER GIVE UP THE DREAM

SANDALS AS BIG AS BOATS

FILLED HIS FANTASIES

AND SHINY BLACK PATENT LEATHER

DRESS SHOES MADE HIS MOUTH WATER

WITH THE THOUGHT OF THEM

FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE

HE SOUGHT A SHOEMAKER

TO DO HIS BIDDING BUT FOUND NONE

AND SO HE DUG FOR HIMSELF A VALLEY

AND COVERED HIMSELF WITH A MOUNTAIN AND SLEPT

TEARS FROZEN ON HIS DEAD FACE STILL

AND A BROKEN HEART STOPPED BEATING AT LAST

STOPPED YEARNING FOR WHAT WOULD NEVER BE

STOPPED DREAMING OF SIZE 52 SHOES

TO COVER GIGANTIC FEET THAT EVER MADE HIM

FEEL LIKE A FREAK AMONG MEN

BIG FOOT, THEY CALLED HIM AND BIG FOOT, HE WAS

SHOELESS AND FRIENDLESS AND HIDDEN IN THE TREES

WATCHING PEOPLE FROLIC AROUND IN THEIR BRIGHT

WHITE SHOES AND BOOTS AND SLIPPERS

NEVER KNOWING THERE LURKED ONE

JUST BEHIND THEM TIMID AS A MOUSE

YET FEARED AS A MONSTER

WHO HAD LIVED FOR AGES AMONG THEIR KIND

AND LONGED TO BE LIKE THEM. LONGED TO BE LOVED....

LONGED TO WEAR SHIRTS AND TIES AND PRESSED TROUSERS

AND RAINCOATS

BUT MORE THAN ANYTHING, HIS DREAM THAT NEVER CAME TRUE

TO BE KNOWN AS THE GENTLE CREATURE THAT HE WAS

TO BE ACCEPTED BY HIS HAIRLESS BROTHERS IN KINDNESS

AND MOST OF ALL AND DEAREST TO HIS SASQUATCH HEART

TO WEAR SHOES, REAL SHOES, SIZE 52'S, BLACK AND SHINY

AND ALL HIS OWN

UPON HIS BIG LONELY FEET.

by Voo

April 30, 2005

copyrighted

Time Traveler In a World Without Time....pages from my diary written in an interplanetary asylum

 

Time Travel

by Daley

Time Traveler

                In A World Without Time

The plane set down in 1957

A Friday morning on a cold wet day

Even though I had left the day before on a warm dry Sunday night

And the sun had been shining for four months in Spitsbergen.

I was rather sleepy, having not slept

For twenty-two minutes or so

And my yawns sounded somewhat musical

In a braying donkey kind of hee haw way.

Peter Cushing was starring in the movie

They'd been showing on board, I remembered

Some horrible thing called a horror movie

No, that's not right, it was a terrible film

And it was silent. (Except for all the snoring.)

As a matter of fact, there had been

No in-flight movie of any kind that night

Only a couple of Saturday Evening Posts

And Photo Play magazines, muchly thumbed through.

I hailed a Black and Purple taxicab

That took me to my hotel, some modernistic thing

Called The Holiday Out

Where no one with even half a reputation would stay.

There were hardly any doors to speak of

Only thin slits in the bricks to squeeze through

And after you'd lost ten pounds in the effort

You found yourself, confusingly, somewhere outside Marrakesh

In 1965.

65???  What? I hadn't even been born yet!

Or had I? My mother hadn't told me, you see

Any details about that happy occasion

Or if, indeed it had been happy or if it had even happened at all.

I just seemed to wake up one morning

And there I was. Yawning.

Wearing soft white pajamas with little giraffes on them

Mysteriously holding an orange object that could have been a ball.....

Or an orange.

But enough about me. I'm a boring subject

The really interesting people are all in there

(In the places you come out of when you realize

You're in the wrong place)

I've met a few characters in there, believe me!

The bi-polar clown, the man with no heart,

The invisible woman who could only be seen

In the glow of the full moon,

The song that sang itself.

I rode through the desert on a horse

With no.......

Name? Yeah, that's it. No name. Or saddle.      Ouch!

Time travel can really be tiresome at times

Especially if you are travelling in the time before Time

Or before Timex watches 

('Cause Grandfather Clocks were just too big to carry around.)

It's always 4:30 when there is no Time to be told

I forget who told me that. Oh, now I remember!

A chap in a porkpie hat selling pork pies in Trafalgar Square

He wore a bowtie and short pants but only one shoe

(Probably because he only had one leg)

Ah, yes! The porkpie guy. Rupert Something.

In between times, you can't laugh

No matter how funny something is,

You can only weep

Bizarre, really, but no more bizarre than most things

I've experienced on those invisible pathways.

There's a very tall building in one realm....get this.... 

With absolutely nothing in it but seesaws

And unadorned Christmas trees

Looking for presents to hover over.

But December never comes there

That month is totally skipped over

No December 25ths at all

You go directly from Thanksgiving turkey 

To New Year's Day hangovers. Or thereabouts.

In one place, it was continually Halloween

And in another, it was always the day after tomorrow

Bankers in thousand dollar suits scrubbed floors

And poor people counted money.

I quite enjoyed that.........

(I was poor, you see)

I was always bloody poor

No matter what time period I ended up in 

(And I was always looking for french fries.)

I fell in and out of love several times, I recall

But always with the same fellow, oddly enough

He, too, was a time traveler stuck in a rut

Between here and there and he always carried a Polaroid camera

Heaven knows where he got his film!

We spent three glorious weeks in a library once

Camped out in the stacks, perusing books of all kinds

Trying desperately to figure out 

What the proverbial "Birds and the Bees" scenario was all about.

We had hitched a time warp back to that awkward age

When we were both going through and pushing past puberty

But without embarrassed parents to tell us 

What it was that we needed to know but did not know

We found books with ghastly pictures that implied

That babies came from a boy/girl conjunction but we were dubious.

By the time we had  figured it out and got caught doing it

We were kicked out of said library by a cross and startled librarian

Who appeared to be from a seventeenth century nunnery

Even though she was wearing a Fitbit and sole-less shoes.

Once, we had a mere fifteen minutes together

It was in Paris and we were drinking frozen wine

At some little outdoor café called Vin Congele´

(It was very romantic but it was January and twenty below.)

We never knew where we would run into one another

Or if we would or how or when or why

Time travel is a game of chance, a draw of the cards

And often not exactly a pleasant experience

If you haven't gotten over that quarrel during your last encounter.

The most bizarre I suppose, took place in 1849 in the wild Wild West

When I found myself coming out of a teepee clutching a tomahawk

While my love, a sexy and disheveled cowboy, lay staked down to an ant hill

Begging for mercy and a Bud Light.

I will not tell you how that turned out

Neither will I recount several centuries of incidents

That will either turn you against me

Or make you fall madly in love. Maybe both.

Oh, look! A squirrel!!!

Let's just say that the Earth looks pretty from Mars

And that there is one planet out there

Totally inhabited by women that look exactly like me

(Except they are blue and speak in a Swahili/Russian dialect

 They giggle a lot and wear bikinis made entirely from their own hair.

Perhaps I should end this saga here, my faithful readers er.... reader

And take the tale up again when you have digested everything thus far

And wrapped your mind around the incongruity of it all

And when you are sober............or sane

©by Voo Shining Stone, Poet, Writer

And Involuntary Time Traveler

In the year 2020

(possibly)

(probably)

(They told me there would be a year like this

somewhere in the future) So yeah.....this must be the year

It's so 2020-ish

Proof of Time Travel, ya'll.... Peter Dinklage Uh huh.

👀😝

But just wait for 2021!!!!!!

It shall be 7000 days and 18 nights long!!!!!

KFC will run out of rubber chickens,

the cows will all become bulls

White Castle hamburgers will be re-named

something less offensive,

donkeys will run wild in the streets

and there shall be no ....uh....

no....uh......

Um. Nothing. There shall be nothing..................

Adversaries, Monkeys and BFFs

 

Adversaries, Monkeys and BFFs

Voo and Rose were frenemies

They hated each other's guts

One was brilliant to the brim

And one was just plain nuts.

One day outside a convenience store

They met up in the rain

Each one had come to buy a Slurpee

But both were broke again.

I tell you what, Voo, Roseanne said

As a toothpick she did chew

Let's me and you hold up this place

And I'll share the take with you.

And Voo said, Yes (a trusting soul)

And followed Roseanne's lead

At the sight of Rose, the store clerk fled

So nobody had to bleed.

They took the money from the till

Downed a case of beer

Filled twenty-five cups of Slurpee stuff

Till they heard the sirens near.

This way and that, the robbers ran

With coins a-plenty flying

Into a flock of proud peacocks

Who screeched like they were dying.

A fine mess you have got us in!

VooVoo to Rose then cried

Me?! burped Rose, It's your stupid fault

That cannot be denied.

They hid within the monkey cage

For they had run into the zoo

And no one there could tell the difference

Between the monkeys, Rose and Voo.

They watched as cops all gathered 'round

To question everyone

The kangaroo said that he'd seen nothing

But he said it just for fun.

The elephant said that he couldn't remember

If crooks had run in to the place

And the tiger thought that maybe they had

But he couldn't sketch a face.

But when they questioned the peacocks

So proud and loud and strong

They said that there'd  been at least thirty men

But boy, did they get that wrong!

All day they waited with baited breath

To escape that monkey's cage

And Voo, poor thing, she tried to pray

As Rose paced in a rage.

I never should have  gone in with you!

For a Slurpee we will fry!

Here, have a banana, Voo offered her sweetly

You're making the crocodiles cry!

Then midnight came and they crept out of the cage

And the zoo full of  snore and roar

Rose gave Voo the Slurpees and she kept the money

And the monkeys were loose once more.

©by Voo

for my old pal Rose Aiello

back in da day

(she was always messin' with me)

So yeah....

Nothing's The Matter With The Matter Of Me (Oldies From Voo's Vault)

 

Nothing's The Matter

                             With The Matter Of Me

I  had worked on my hair

It was all such a mess

But as they pointed out to me....

I had forgotten to dress.

I brushed most of my teeth

They were shiny and clean

But my socks were so dirty

With no shoes to be seen.

I cannot be expected

To remember these things

It's enough I am walking

Cause I've mislaid my wings.

I have run till I'm ragged

Then I fell with a thud

I have clothed with a feather

I have showered in mud.

I have been so imperfect

That I'm perfectly wrought

I have studied so hard

That I used all my thoughts.

I cannot say the matter

That's the matter with me

I'm just willy and nilly

And so silly, that's me.

So if you see me out flying

O're the top of some wall

Don't point out that I'm wingless

Cause I don't want to fall.

I'm a clown and a jester

I'm a sad little mime

And I know who I am

At least most of the time.

So, I'll leave you with that

Now that's all done and said

I will go finish my hair now.....Oh!

What have I done with my head??!!!

©by Voo Shining Stone

Sept 21, 2013

10:04 p.m.

Belly Dancing Dog

 

Owl Kitty in Risky Business

Optimism

So Cute...so Cuddly...

The Drive Thru of Hell....2 funnee

Yehaw and Halleluyer!!!!

The Secret of Happiness

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.....