THE THREE LIL PIGS

 

The Guilty Run

 

The Guilty Run

The guilty run

Out of  fear

Out of spite

Run from the sun

To the covering 

Of night

The guilty run

From the face 

Of  the truth

Seducing the innocent

While appearing

Aloof

The guilty run

From the healing

Of love

Revering the raven

Reviling

The dove

They don't know surrender

They only know

Pride

Maintaining vainglory

While

Dying inside

The guilty run

Till they cannot run more

Like oceans of anger

That will run out of shore

With enemies a-plenty

Without friends and good graces

The guilty keep running

Though nobody chases

The guilty keep running

Though nobody chases.

© by Voo Shining Stone

1/31/2025

Sometimes The Pleasure

 

Sometimes The Pleasure

I lie to myself when I'm by myself
And the night is dark and cold
I don't want to hear the voice of fear
And the tale that can't be told.

Can you lose a thing you never owned?
Can you convince yourself that's true?
For I am convinced that I have your heart
And that I am beloved by you.

So many nights, so many fights
And what was the fighting for?
I can only remember the empty room
And the slamming of the door.

But when it is good, it is so good
Like a desert after the rain
Our hungry eyes tell us all those lies
That the pleasure is worth the pain.

And so we bear the heartbreak
And so we bow to woe
And so we kneel as our minds reel
And the wanting refuses to go.

What is it in a woman's soul
That only a man can meet?
And what is it in her wounded heart
That can knock him off his feet?

Sometimes we sit and talk all night
With candlelight and wine
Lose ourselves in love's sweetness
That by morning we can't find.

And yet, and yet, we thrust ourselves
Upon the bloody knife
That raised by your hand or by mine
Can't cut out the nameless strife.

So we walk away and run away
And go running back again
To arms of bliss and the lethal kiss
And the pleasure that's worth the pain.

Perhaps one day, we'll find a way
To eliminate what's wrong
Erase this chorus and rewrite the verses
Of this beautiful but very sad song.

Till then, we'll crave the passion
That carries us away like the tide
This love that kills and turns and heals
And binds me to your side.

There is no rhyme or reason
For this madness that we share
We take the pain that gives the pleasure
Though this sadness we must bear.

We are but fools, love, you and I
A woman and a man
Bound by things the mind can't know
And the heart alone, can understand.

©By Voo
Dec 28, 2019
11:03 p.m.

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: It Won't Be Tonight

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: It Won't Be Tonight: Glen Hansard put on loop It Won't Be Tonight Standing on the precipice  That steep and craggy cliff that draws my woun...

Sundays And Ironies

                                           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Sundays and Ironies 

　 

　 

I was sitting there 

Sipping cold hot tea 

Reading yesterday's news 

In a newspaper that was barely 

Big as a handkerchief.

Outside, it was raining 

In the middle of a sun shower 

And all the unborn tulips screamed 

To shove their way up from muddy Spring graves.

My nosy neighbor (who had not yet died) 

Sloshed across the yard 

And stood in my line of vision 

Holding an arm load of soggy mail.

"Postman left it at my house." he said 

And waited while I put on my bunny shoes 

And slipped out into the morning, scowling 

For I was not a social butterfly, to say the least.

"Thank you." I muttered 

And went back into the warmth, 

Slammed the door, locked it, 

And kicked it for good measure.

I won't repeat here what I repeated then 

For all the mail was wet and opened and read 

Even the bills (and it was Sunday for pete's sakes!) 

And all my love letters from you were missing.

I threw everything in the trash 

Swallowed the last drop of tea, 

And made my way to the den 

To watch the broken t.v. that only had sound.

Same ole same ole...... 

The cat dropped down out of his hiding place 

Above my head, from the third row of classics, 

Books about travels, and my father's comics.

He gave me a glare 

Because I had shifted defensively in the chair 

And instead of my comfy chest, 

He landed on my knobby knee and the remote control.

"Serves you right!" I scolded 

"Always dropping in uninvited." 

And he gave me the look, you know the one, 

Licked my hand and then bit the hell out of my face.

The telephone didn't ring 

Most probably because I hadn't paid the bill 

And somewhere off in the distance, 

(Well, in the next room, actually) a faucet dripped.

Ah, Sundays! The day of rest and relaxation 

The day of cats and rain and cups of tea, 

Boring newspapers and nosy neighbors, 

And indescribable loneliness.............

I felt like growling 

But decided that the cat would take that 

As a call to arms and so kept my growl inside 

And pulled him to my chest and purred.

Two hours later 

A siren wailed it's way through the neighborhood, 

Down my street, and came to a stop next door 

And to my neighbor who lay sprawled on his front porch.

"What's happened?" I inquired, still holding the cat 

And peeking over the emergency crews' shoulders 

"Looks like a cardiac arrest." one said, eyeing me 

"Must have been something he read."

And then I saw the pile of white envelopes 

With Air Mail stamps on them 

Flown over from France and Spain and New Guinea 

Your letters, to me, from you, and not, him.

They were opened 

And splotched with rain, 

The ink running down precious pages 

Filled with sentences that ended in my name 

And meant only for my eyes.

"Why the dirty, low down.....!" 

And I snatched up the letters and dropped the cat 

And almost stumbled over the fallen mail thief 

As I looked into the open door of his kitchen.

There, on his untidy table 

Lay a note pad and a pen, 

A dozen more letters, 

And an envelope addressed to me.

"My Dearest Beloved....." 

The note pad read 

"I have loved you from afar 

Lo, these many, many years 

And now I must needs spill my heart."

"What the h---!" 

I exclaimed and grabbed the letter, 

Brought it up to my puzzled eyes and read 

So many things I wish I had never read.

"Your lover is a cad." he wrote 

"He does not love you and is not faithful." 

In one letter he describes his affair with a Countess, 

And in another, a pole dancer from the French Riviera."

"WWWWhaat?" I cried, disbelievingly 

"When did my William write such garbage?" 

And I tore open the letters and scanned them, shocked 

And sank down onto the grimy yellow kitchen floor.

"Lady, are you okay?" 

The medics called as they continued their job 

Of reviving an unrevivavable man 

(And for his sake, they'd better fail! I thought.)

I waved my hand in answer 

And got back to my feet, 

Sat at the table and finished reading 

The story of my pathetic, unsuspecting life.

"I have always watched out for you." 

He wrote, "And always kept the burglars away" 

"I've mowed your lawn and you never noticed, 

Fed your cat, and brought in the mail when you were gone."

("Yeah, you creep, you brought it to your house!") 

I cursed below my breath and read on 

"You are my sunshine and the joy of my life," he wrote 

And I will always, always, until my dying day, love you truly."

"But yesterday came the news that your darling cheating boy, 

Had decided it was time to settle down 

(He's probably out of money)

And was asking you to marry him

And I couldn't let that happen before I wrote to you."

Signed............ 

Signed what?! He didn't sign it! There was no signature! 

And then I realized that I didn't even know his name 

After all those years of living right next door.

"He's gone." 

The medics said quietly, their job finished 

And one of them looked at me and whispered, 

"I'm sorry."

I got to my feet 

And watched them load him into the ambulance 

As the rain began to pour harder through the pale sunshine 

And as they pulled away, I felt a strange and bitter thing.

My cat ran in the open door 

Wet, and exasperated as only cats do 

Wound himself around my ankles and sighed 

A wonderful feline sound, yet oddly human.

I gathered up all my letters 

And the letter yet unmailed, 

Looked around for strings untied and tied them, 

Turned out the lights and pulled the door closed behind me.

Halfway across the lawns 

Between his house and mine, 

I saw a red tulip pop it's head out of the ground 

As if to say, "Hello! Farewell! Auf Wiedersehen! Goodbye!" 

And I remembered that I had never planted tulips.

Running back into the shuttered house 

I found the note pad laying where I'd left it 

Took up the pen and brushed stray rain drops from my eyes 

"THANK YOU FOR LOVING ME." I wrote and ran.

Five months later 

A new man moved in next door 

I sat and watched him carrying boxes inside 

It was a sunshiny day and the lawn was ablaze with color.

It was ablaze with color 

Because I had worked all summer to make it so 

Me and the cat 

Because he, too, missed the man who had given him free milk.

"Beautiful place here." the new man spoke 

Rousing me from my reverie at the open window 

"Yes, it is." I said shyly, for he was very good looking 

"Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thank you." He said, turning 

And I remembered. "Wait!" I cried 

And handed him a letter. "The post man left it here by mistake." 

"Hmmm." he said, taking it from my hand, puzzled

And I hoped he wouldn't notice the tears and tape.

Not married, 

Not a playboy,

Not a doctor,

A plumber.......

And that was good to know. 

　 

©by Voo 

March 28, 2010 

5:06 p.m.