THIRTEEN PAPER AIRPLANES

Thirteen Paper Airplanes




Thirteen paper airplanes later
I realized that boredom can kill
And I rounded them all up
From their landings in high and low destinations
And crashed them all into the fireplace.


What is about the weekend
That makes you feel like
Life is passing you by
Like you're missing out on some great something
That can only happen on a Saturday?


Saturdays used to be a time
For cartoons and serials and cereals
In big bowls full of milk and sugar
And stained pajamas and sleepy mamas
And all was right with the world when the t.v. was on.


Not any more.....now,  I can't stand the t.v.
With it's death-o-matic never ending gore
It's sound effects so ear-catching
It makes you want to pummel someone
Just to see if you can re-create that sound.


Talking heads spewing tele-prompted script
Offering opinion and counsel, advice and contempt
Cruel humor and sanctimonious noddings
That put you to sleep
Until the pre-arranged melee breaks loose.


The radio is no better
You hear the same tweaked songs
Over and over until you know them by heart
And you sing along until you figure out
That they're all the same song, just a different tune.


Sex sells. Oh, yeah?
Well, who wants sex that can be bought
For crying out loud? Isn't that dirty sex
That makes both the seller and the buyer dirty
Even if it is just a pornographic song?


So, why am I ranting and raving
On this beautiful, sunny Saturday?
Why am I thinking of these things
That make me upset in a deeply shallow way?
You tell me.


I think it's because
I'm alone in a world full of lonely people
Trying to find meaning in a meaningless morass
Of news, blues and Blue-toothed crazy people
Talking to themselves as they walk through K-Mart.


Maybe I should go to K-Mart myself
And buy some pretty colored papers
Colors like reds and golds and greens
Bring them home, get out the design book
And make more glorious airplanes.


Yawn. God, I've got to get a life!
Got one nobody is using?
One that's already been used up to the full
And discarded because it was just too exciting?
I'll take it. Long as it didn't belong to Cleopatra.

I hate snakes.

©by Voo
May 23, 09
3:11 p.m.

OBSERVANCE OF JOY

Observance of Joy

I stood in the quiet of the oncoming evening

And watched her in the garden, humming

Her hands dirty with the rich, black soil

Her blue dress, stained and ripped at the hem

And I loved her so I thought my heart would burst

Flowers surrounded her, the result of many hours

Vegetables, ripe and ready to be eaten, waited

Birds were shooed away and bugs, exterminated

All the while humming that lovely, unidentifiable tune

And I loved her so I thought my heart would sing

I had walked past her on my journey home

The workaday woes heavy on my mind

The incoming, outgoing, out of proportion paperwork

Still to be dealt with, still to be paid, lying on the desk

And I had passed her without glance or second thought

As I neared the door to hearth and home, I turned

Abruptly as if an unseen hand had turned me thus

And I watched her obliviously working on my dinner

Over my shoulder, quietly, in stunned awareness

And I loved her so much I thought my heart would break.

©By Voo
July 8, 07

for Sterling

WONDERING AT THE WINDOW..................collab w/Ray Gallon

Wondering  at the Window

Where is he, I wonder

And feel such an emptiness

I can barely bear it.

Was it only yesterday

That he left the rose

Upon my doorstep and fled?

Was it only the day before

That I slammed the door

There in his startled face?

What a fool I was

What a complete and utter fool

For I cannot remember the reason.

He told me he'd never let me go

He told me he'd drown in the rain

And burn in the sun.

He told me he'd stand outside the window

Until the stars fell down

And all the flowers cried.

But I just laughed

And pulled the blinds

And shut out his tearful eyes.

Now it is morning

And the sky is soft and serene

But there's a storm inside of me.

Where is he, I wonder

With my hand upon the sill

Where is my love and does he love me still?

©by Voo

Feb 28, 2017

3:06 a.m.

(painting by Ray Gallon

poem by Voo)