Silent Voices

 

AN OLD MAN GOES MAD COOKING DINNER

What was I thinking is what I want to know.

A splinter drives his ugly head up and under my fingernail. How much pain does it take to wear you out? And is there some kind of plan to flay the poor. And make a purse for the rich man's heart.

Jesus is a wrist watch. That never keeps time. But at least it distracts you from the point of getting older. My only concern about time is how much I have left.

I wait at my window. For the sun to arrive. And watch the young girls on the corner looking so pretty. As their boys strut back and forth. Like cocks along the avenue.

I turn my head back to the table. I thought you should know. That isn't pudding on your plate.

..............................................download My Hair Is On Fire

Kay Starr

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Kay Starr (July 21, 1922 -

Lou Gehrig could see the future. Luckiest man in the world. Knew when his time was up. Not Eugen Weidmann. Lost his head. Outside the prison of Saint-Pierre. The last public guillotining. Believe it or Not. Made Eugene so famous. Last thing he did was dance.

The tramps passed. Little Kay Starr’s doorstep. And talked of revolution. When things would return. To the golden days. But little Katie wasn’t listenin'. She had found her own audience. The chickens in the coop. Loved to hear her singin'. Made them forget. The foxes in the woodlot. Couldn't stop grinnin'.

Kay sang on a radio station. In Dallas. Texas. A little girl. And that big mike. So many song contests. You'd think that winning once was enough. And Lina Medina. Became the world's youngest mother. At the age of five. And everyone agreed. The future had arrived.

In small little towns. Up and down endless. Dusty roads. Listening to the little stones. Hitting the floor boards. And then one day. Her voice disappeared. In a hole. Her smile. It was heaven being mute. Now she could marry big Harry. And have little mute children. But disaster struck. Her voice came back. And the ongoing never ending career. Its such a long long time. When you’re never allowed to remember. How anything began.

Dinah Shore

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Dinah Shore (February 29, 1916 – February 24, 1994)

1950s. From shore to shore. Dyed blondes. In suburban homes. Black bodies bobbing

up in the swamp. Like apples in a barrel. Big frilly dresses. Puffy sleeves. In the golden

days of the Pharaoh. When men drove Chevrolets. Women in church. Happy on their

knees.

Every Sunday evening. Black and white laughter. Dinah and her lovers. In alphabetical

order. Dinah loved Tarzan. And his jungle. A general named Moose. A singer and his

jingles. The Cantabile Choir Of Kingston. A drummer. From the old school. Several

actors named Jimmy. A cat. Who wanted to be President. And a red headed kid with

buck teeth. And a head too big for his hat.

America had a new home movie. It was called the ‘The Battle of Los Angeles’. UFOs

attacked the city of angels. Through the smog. And the alleys. And all their mighty

ships were shot down. But no one could find. Where they had crashed. And Dinah

kept smiling. Her ankles like a necklace. Throwing a kiss. Across America. To

Ed Gein and his buddies down at Biff's . To the nurse in the E.R. To the waitress

on the graveyard shift. And all the little blondes. Watching Dinah. Cracking a joke.

Singing a song. America was in love. With being blonde.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dqoJxjQn-Y

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At The Gallery

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugmkqvurSXE&feature=youtu.be