collab

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

DOGWOOD DESIRE


I Dream of You
Per Olav Kindgren

NOTHING PURE








Nothing Pure



The devil wears black leather
And drives a motorcycle made of different machines:
Harley, Indian, Honda, American Eagle,
Big Dog, Suzuki, you name it....
A custom made hybrid bike....
'Cause he don't like nothing pure.

The devil don't like nobody
And nobody don't like him
And he likes it that way:
It gives him a morbid pleasure and a twisted kind of relief
'Cause he never was one
For small talk.

Big issues were always his game
You know the ones:
Life, death, sin, taxes,
Heaven, Hell, politics,
Sex, drugs, rock and roll
And inventing new religions.

Who has time for chit chat
And text messaging
When there are people to kill,
And places to blow up,
Lives to ruin,
And sitcoms to script?

Life is not a bowl of cherries
To his way of thinking
It's more like a bowl of watermelons
Full of ghastly seeds from the Garden of Eden
Growing, living things
That not even he and Monsanto can stomp out.

But he tries, he tries.....
It's a never ending battle,
This mission of his
Pluck up this, tear down that,
Hybridize those, clone all these,
And of course, blame it all on alien abductions.

It does get tiresome sometimes,
This quest to destroy all purity
Finding it in himself, he set out to purge it,
Re-mold himself, re-create himself,
Re-invent himself, destroy himself,
Though he does occasionally, even now, miss the days when he was pretty.

Life was simpler then, up there
All he had to do was sing, smile,
Learn how to play new instruments,
And keep an eye out for enemies,
Who, of course, hadn't yet made an appearance
And eventually, figure out how to make a snake look good to a woman.

Women are silly creatures:
Tell them they can't have something,
And they'll move Heaven and Earth
To get it
Tell them they can have it,
And they lose interest in it almost immediately.

Men, on the other hand,
Want hardly anything
And won't walk across a Garden to get it
Even if it's on sale or free
All they want is to lie in the shade and try not to think
And most of them do a good job at that.

Humans are useless
He doesn't understand why they were created
In the first place
And out of dirt, for pete's sakes!
What kind of biologist comes up with that concept,
For crying out loud? Dirt??

He  himself was made of finer stuff than that!
Essence of diamond! The purest gold!
24 carat holy stuff,
And the breath of God
His wings, like stained glass windows
And his face almost too beautiful to gaze upon.

But he mustn't dwell on that now
He had things to do, places to go,
People to see and a short time to work
There was still some purity in the world
That had to be tainted, dropped in the mire,
And thrown in the pit.

Hybrids were an affront to the Big Guy
Not really His, not really, His creations
More like a joint effort
Between Frankenstein and Silly Putty
All this nonsense about purity and such,
6000 plus years and he was still in the lab.

But one day, one day.....
The whole world was gonna look
Like Ground Zero on September the 12th
What a glorious day that had been!
The day when the world changed, the media said then
Yeah, well, baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet!

Me and the boys,
We gonna ride through your burned out cities
And your bombed out landscapes,
And your amber waves of grain
Like Hell's Angels going on a picnic
And we're gonna celebrate the death of all things holy.

Too bad you won't be there to see it
Too bad there won't be anybody's faces to rub it in
Or strut around and sneer at,
Or crucify and tar and feather,
'Cause all things pure and holy will be gone.

Oh, hell, yeah! Gone, baby, gone!
And the only things left on Earth
Will be stuff we made,
Stuff we took joy in,
Stuff we created out of death and destruction,
And Nephilim spare parts.

The devil runs his hands across his whiskered face,
Spits on the ground and looks up at the sun
He sees an eagle circling high just riding the breeze
A spy, he supposes, they're everywhere
Reporting his activities and spoiling his fun
Well, it's Eagle Season, he grins.

He loads up his bow and arrow,
The shoulder launched, heat seeking,
Weapon of mass destruction kind,
And fires at the magnificent bird,,,,,,,
Waiting for it to scream and fall, 
He wonders what he'll use for target practice later on.

But the bird doesn't fall
It flies off to a high topped mountain peak
And sits there in a tall pine tree
Just staring at him with a gleam in it's eye
Challenged, he roars angrily and starts the bike up the mountain side
But the motor sputters and fizzles out with a whimper.

Multiplied centuries and he still hasn't figured out
The formula for fossil fuel..............

©by Voo
November 20, 10
6:16 p.m.









THE SONGBIRD'S SILENCE





The Songbird's Silence



Darkling thrush upon the bough
Do you see your darling now?
Did you hear her songbird's calling
As the arrow pierced her, falling?

Through the night and through the rain
Did you feel your darling's pain?
Crumpled feathers softly fell
From nest of home to earthly hell.

No song shall pierce the gray of dawn
Now that your muse of song is gone
No feathered touch, no winged embrace
Your world devoided of her face.

She sang her last sweet thrush refrain
And you flew off into the rain
Through night and noon and cloudless sky
That arrow bid no last goodbye.

And now you sit, a songless bird
No note to warble, no trill be heard
In birch bough waiting till death is come
To take you to her. To take you home.




©by Voo
 
March 1, 2004
10:45 p.m.


Tuesday, March 28, 2017

LET THAT DEVIL BE








let that devil be





perpetrating storm
she lied with sunshine
flattering with a look
that belied her cold disdain


patronizing innocence
she became my heart's betrayer
falling in with clear skies
she became my drowning rain


truth was not one of her gifts
nor was it in her nature
sincerity's beguiling dance
a trap I dropped into


 red rose scent upon her skin
it hid the smell of danger
luscious lips and snake skinned hips
and dark clouds in the blue


seducing like a sideshow
in the eyes of curiosity
in the latter days of childhood
before the boy became the man


I threw my money at her feet
and entered at her bidding
left my soul at her front door
and I've not seen it again


flashing pretty darkness
the morning fled forever
redemption's promise blazed and burned
and the rays of sun were gone

swallowing me like a sugary treat
she wiped her hands and mouth
threw me in with a thousand men
and her lair became my home


perpetrating storm
she lied with sunshine
her hands of sin are never full
and now they're holding me


if you should hear her honeyed voice
don't listen to her calling
turn your ears from her sweet song
and let that devil be.





©by Voo
Sept 24, 10
2:36 a.m.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Randy McQuay // "Feels Like Rain" // LIVE




One of the sweetest, nicest people I ever met and one of the most versatile, gifted singers and musicians singing one of my favorite songs. If you ever get the chance to see him in person, take it!