LIKE A BLUE CORN MORNING

like a blue corn morning

dancing, he comes

like a blue corn morning

sunbeamed eyes

and hair as black as jet

but he hasn't found me yet.

I whisper behind my hand

like a child at game

hiding in 

the wild flower's shadow

while he calls my name.

I know he loves me

he just doesn't know it

but when that secret 

falls from his heart

his eyes can't help but show it.

watch him walk

like a warrior born again

smiling as he looks 

for me

and reaches for my hand.

blue corn morning

with feathers in my hair

he stops halfway

to paradise

and I meet him there.

*thanks Perry Joe for your photo above*

Moon Dancer by Mark Hicks

*Written by Voo Shining Stone*

© by Voo

Jan 13, 08

12:12 a.m.

NO MIRAGE, THE PAINTER

No Mirage, The Painter

BRIGHT AS SUNSHINE

IN EYES AS BLUE AS SKY

SWIFTLY, SWEETLY

PAINTING LOVE

ON A CANVAS SUCH AS I.

CRISP AS AUTUMN

AND TASTING FRESH AS SNOW

RENEWING, WOOING

A BROKEN HEART

TO FOLLOW WHERE YOU GO.

AND TENTATIVE YET BOLDLY

I REACH A TREMBLING HAND

CROSS THROUGH SPACE

TO TOUCH YOUR FACE

LIKE A SCULPTURE IN THE SAND.

BUT NO MIRAGE, THE PAINTER

THERE STANDING BEFORE ME

YOUR LOVE CANNOT BE SWEPT AWAY

NOR CARRIED OUT TO SEA.

SO SOLID STANDS THE CASTLE

SO STURDY IS THE FRAME

THAT HOLDS THE PAINTING

THAT COMES TO LIFE

WHEN YOU SAY MY NAME.

©BY VOO

SEPT 27, 2006

11:35 P.M. 

Have I Told You Lately by Van Morrison

HURRY SUNDOWN

Hurry, Sundown




Nothing in the past
Can prepare you for the present
Nothing in the day
Can prepare you for the night
Not when it is filled with glory
And the promise of a thousand fires.

Sunset comes
And the day pales
Like a rock beside a diamond
Like a star beside a sun
Like a stream beside an ocean.

Fire in all it's forms is beautiful
Fire in all it's beauty hides a terror 
For nothing is more terrifying than beauty
When it is used to hurt and not to heal.

There came a time
When lightining struck a tree
And fire was born
In a world that still revolves
Around the greatest fire of all.

Staring into the west, I think
No human could paint that,
No man could compose that,
No weapon could destroy that.

See how the fire of sky
Meets the fire of sea
Runs through the desert like a river
And turns the ordinary into the mystic.

If I could stand here forever,
I would.
If I would turn into spirit,
I could.

But sunsets flicker like dying candles
And lose themselves in blue shades and black
Give the eye of flesh a glimpse of heaven
And are gone before you've seen what you have seen.

When night falls like a dark blanket,
My heart feels cheated
For I was made for sun and shine
And flame and flash and magic.

Hurry sundown
Can't you hear me calling?
Bring out the fire
Can you not see I'm cold?

Tomorrow comes too slowly
Ends, too slowly
I sleepwalk through the day, with hurried patience
Waiting for the show within the West.

Hurry, sundown
I need your fire.

©By Voo
April 20, 09
11:30 p.m.

ELK MEAT PIZZA AND PEYOTE BEER

   

Traditional Native American Music

Elk Meat Pizza and Peyote Beer




So me and the boys 
Were sittin’ around the camp fire talkin’
Talkin’ bout women (of course)
And how good a cold drink would taste right then
And something hot and fillin’ to go with it
So we all piled up in our one-eyed pony
With the eagle feathers on the antenna
And headed off down to this new joint we'd heard about
Called GRANDFATHER DOUGHBOY'S
To see what we could find.

“Grandfather!” we greeted him
When we fell into his establishment
Loud and obnoxious as only young men
Half growed and half crazy can do
“We’re hungry and thirsty and we got money
Burnin’ holes in our pockets!
What can you do for us and our great needs
And how much will it cost?”
And Grandfather DoughBoy pushed back his big black hat
And looked at us hard and said, “Hmm, well, can you
Fancy Dancing Dudes dance for your supper?”
And we reckoned we could,'cause we all loved to dance
And it was Saturday night
And who the heck knew what a brave ole boy could get into
On a Saturday night in an Arizona desert? 

So, they pushed back the tables and chairs
And brought out the drums
And somebody got out a flute and a rattle
And started clearing their throats to chant
Then ole Mean Joe, who always wore raccoon
And had a face only a walk-in could love,
Started waving sweet-grass around
To clear out the spirits of rock-and-roll and Jimi Hendrix
Who had been haunting the place till we walked in
Me and my brother, Falling Leaf, warmed up a bit
By screaming like banshees
And a couple of sweet sisters in the back smiled and applauded
And we blushed like new born calves
And ducked our heads and coughed
And started gettin’ serious and indigenous
‘Cause Grandfathers don’t play that, y’know?

Plus, we were powerful hungry and our throats were dry
As winter trees after a drought filled summer on a high Sierra
After a while, we all got ourselves into serious fancy-dancing mode
Even though most of us were in jeans and tie-dyed T-shirts
Still, you would have thought we were dressed
In the best custom made regalia in the world
‘Cause we tore the roof off that little tin-roofed joint!
As the night wore on, people started crowdin’ in out of nowhere,
Everybody started celebratin’ and carryin’ on
And Grandfather had a happy look on his grizzled face
That could have lit up Arizona.

It sure started smellin’ good in the back 'round bout midnight
And we were all dancin’ and whoopin’
And enjoyin’ being young and native
And then Grandfather holds up his hand and says,
“Alright, boys, you’ve earned your supper!”
And we all stop, soaked with sweat
And half in and half out of the spirit world
Then he sets us down and has his good looking grand-daughters
Bring out these big ole Elk Meat pizzas
And the biggest pitchers of beer you ever saw
Made with peyote syrup and golden liquids.

If you’ve never had an Elk Meat pizza,
You don’t know what you’re missin’
It’s a Native-American thing, y’know?
No white man knows how to bake elk in a pie
And nobody knows how to brew up Peyote Beer, either
(Heck, I don’t even know
If there is such a thing as Peyote Beer!)
But, Grandfather said it was Peyote Beer
So we drank it and we believed him
And we all got up and danced again
Until Sunday mornin’ showed up 
Underneath a velvet painted sky.

Me and the boys walked out to the truck
Feeling ten feet tall, in silence
And sat there in the ethereal dawn
Feeling surrealistic and satisfied
Like a bridegroom after his weddin’ night
Or like warriors countin’ coup
“Man! What just happened?” 
One of us said in awe after a time
And the rest of us said, “Hell if I know!
But wasn’t that beer good!?”
And we all agreed and turned and looked back 
Staring with twelve big eyes
And I swear on Geronimo’s hat, if I live to be a hundred....
But that tin-roofed, tar-papered.........
GRANDFATHER DOUGHBOY'S
PEYOTE BEER AND ELK MEAT PIZZA HUT 
Was gone......…………!!

By Voo©

May 16, 2009

6:54 p.m.

(fancy dancing and face by my friend Perry Joe)

                   MUST WATCH!!!! TOO FUNNY↓

                                         
                      Fancy Dancing Dog.......great  Native American music

DIABOLICAL

DIABOLICAL

 .........DIABOLICAL......see ME?

bathed in CRIMSON RED and GIVING OFF the fragrance of the HAUNTED

Here I stand in FRONT of your FACE only Inches away

tasting your breath And breathing in your SCENT and you do not hear me sigh...

Feel me? I am touching you with trembling ghostly fingers RUNNING my hands

through YOUR HAIR, pulling you close ENOUGH TO KISS YET YOU DO  NOT perceive MY PRESENCE.

And if you did, you would not care. Love me? THE QUESTION makes me LAUGH!

YOU, WHO KNOWS no need AND NO desire. A walking, wounding, raging RAINSTORM LIVING ONLY TO QUENCH MY FIRE ......yet, you live on AND I, I die in DEATH..... a BODY buried under mounds of hurt and cannot catch my breath. . . . red, LIKE THE COLOR OF PASSION ....red, LIKE THE HUE OF HELL'S HOT FLAME ....red, LIKE THE HATE I SEE IN YOUR EYES WHEN SOMEONE SAYS my name. . . . 

YOU are DIABOLICAL as ALWAYS, damn you! YOU with your cold, unfeeling BEAUTY that killed me with REJECTION AND GAVE ME NO second THOUGHT. . . . I stand in front of YOU on this dark night WITH bloody red HANDS that hold the HEART YOU RIPPED FROM MY LOVING BREAST........ 

HANDING IT TO YOU like some macabre CHRISTMAS GIFT................. 

once more REJECTED, once more TURNED AWAY and loving you more than LIFE. . . 

KILL ME AGAIN    

©BY VOO 

November 19, 2005 

8:51 p.m. 

*thanks Mark for your gorgeous face*