collab

Thursday, October 26, 2017

THE WEST WIND KNOWS



The West Wind Knows


 Wonder who else but the west wind knows

Just where the pale moon flower grows
And if the moonshine in her power
Can reach to smell that fragrant flower?

This town has died and left it's ghosts

Now rolling tumbleweeds for hosts
Lead you to doors that swing and sway
In saloons where old pianos play.

The cowboys rode the trails near here

They'd hunt the bear and rope the steers
But there's no beast left here to find
Like men, they've left this place behind.

Their bodies, though, are laid to rest

Most pierced by bullets in their chests
The cemetery, bleak and morose
Now populated by their ghosts.

At midnight, apparitions walk

Down these quiet paths but do not talk
They just acknowledge and nod and leave
Forgotten too long now to grieve.

Such hope they had when first they found

This western soil, this dusty ground
But greed and life took hope away
And in this dusty land they lay.

Moon flowers grow upon them now

Bloom out at night upon their brows
Coyotes howl but don't come near
For nothing living will live here.

This town of ghosts, with dark red mud

Made darker still by spilled red blood
Where only that pale flower grows
In the place I walk when the west wind blows.




©by Voo

Sept 4, 07

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

SHAPESHIFTER





Shape Shifter

I am a gentle man, you said
and kissed my hand, raising your eyes
in the process to meet mine
in the candlelight
Promise? I queried and withdrew 
My hand from your tightening grasp
I wouldn't hurt a fly, you answered
And certainly not the heart
Of a fair lady
And I believed you and went tumbling
Down into the spell you cast
The web you wove
The love I needed so badly
For days on end and nights
Forever
Falling for you and your lies
And then the spell was broken
And the web began to strangle
True colors came to light
And cruelty took the place 
Of tenderness
I saw the true you in full sunlight
One day as you shape shifted
From knight to ogre and reached
Out to crush my soul in your hand
You sneered at my fear and laughed
At my pain
You sir, are no gentleman.
You sir, are no gentle man.
You sir, are no man.


©by Voo
Jan 10, 2005
 8 p.m.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

WHAT WAS CAN BE AGAIN



What Was Can Be Again....................
                            



The past is dead but still alive in it's haunting, lingering way
We see tomorrow coming up while it is yet today
We think of things that we must do and things we should have done
And groan to think of work and toil when we could be having fun.

The little boy becomes a man, the man becomes a boy
Sitting in his rocking chair, bereft of childhood's toys
The little girl becomes a mother with children of her own
And then they leave to parents be and leave her all alone.

Cause and effect, response, react, reflexes unaware
We huddle closer to our heart to find some comfort there
The memories quiet in our minds till called to take us back
To happier days where we try to stay till the present's whip is cracked.

The days when we were beautiful, the days when we were loved
We treat those photographs like gold and hold them with kid gloves
We tell ourselves those days were real and these are but a dream
And sadly look in aging eyes knowing we 're not what we seem.

The lovers in us yearn for love, the singers, for the song
The painters long for palettes full and murals ten miles long
The teachers in us need to teach the lessons that we know
Could help the young still having fun to spare them from our woe.

But lessons learned must come from life and pain and joy and sorrow
We cannot hold to yesterday grasping for tomorrow
We cannot keep what pulled itself from our tightly clenching hands
They must be empty of all that was......... so that it can be again.


©By Voo
August 27, 2005
2 a.m.

BLACK LIKE THE NIIGHT




Black Like The Night
.
.
She wore black like the night
Downtown in that little dive of darkness
I watched her from my bar stool;
Nursing my beer and my recently shattered, manly pride.
.
Somehow, I couldn’t see her in a place like this
She looked mythical, like a creature rising from a song
Long, black hair and eyes like midnight;
I wanted to fall into them but I held back.
.
I wondered if she was a spell caster
Or evil masquerading as sweetness
We stared across the dim lit noisy room;
Until my soul could no longer resist.
.
I wanted to buy her champagne
But they didn’t have any
I wanted to take her for a walk on the moon;
But I knew she’d already been there.
.
When I came to myself, night was fading
I was in the middle of a dream at the edge of the world
I opened my eyes and saw her standing on the water;
Beckoning me with music in her fingers.
.
Her smile was like honey, but it was not warm
Still, I starved for her and reached out as I stood
I heard a murmur as I stumbled in the dark trees;
But no matter how hard I reached, I could not touch her.
.
She was an angel, she was a demon
She was a siren and a premeditated crime
Taunting me with whispers till I ran screaming;
I fell into the black water and plunged to my despair.
.
But that was then and this is now
Now I sit on a different bar stool in a different dive
It’s midnight and I have no pride left in me at all;
And there she is, wearing black, and shining like a promise.
.
She beckons me and I follow, as she knows I will
As I do when the madness calls and I am lost
She carries the keys to my desperation;
And she always finds me.
.
.




















©By Voo
August 1, 08
five after midnight




Monday, October 23, 2017

THE RAIN MAN DANCES one of my scariest writes








The Rain Man Dances



and the rain man dances on the dark divide
of heaven and hell, beckons me inside
and I run but stop at his grinning face
there in the dark and gleaming space
of death and dream, found then but lost
there at the foot of the unfound cross.
               
               
the black skies darken, if indeed they can
to hide the shadow of a shattered man
but in the flashing of a lightning bolt
I see what's left of my last last hope
a pale hand reaches to touch my face
to pour on me it's soothing grace.
      

pushes back my hair and pats my cheek
and fills my mouth with something sweet
I swallow hard and wipe my eyes
then look in stunned and sad surprise
to see the rain man dancing still
as the cold rain falls and melts my will.
     

the desert of my soul has drowned
my cries imprisoned in a well of sound
the rain man stops his dance of death
as thunder roars and grabs my breath
and down we go on paths of pain
to eternal desert and no more rain.


  
the iron gate shuts and the lights grow dim
on my voiceless prayer and my wordless hymn
I fall in the nightmare where the lost ones reside
and the rain man dances on the dark divide.

               




         
scary soundtrack for poem
this music adds so very much to the read.....




©by Voo
Jan 21, 05 4:42 p.m.
based on a nightmare