FB (1925 / Chicago)

Am I O.K., Jack?

Our heating system speaks
but I can't understand the words – yet.
And the the toilet flush sounds like
advertising on TV,
but I don't hear the words yet.
And when water in the kitchen sink
goes down the drain, I hear sounds,
but I still don't hear the words.
And sometimes there are high-pitched bells,
without a song,
That's left to the little man
who sings to me
when everything is quiet
He can sing anything
I think of, or don't think of.
And if all of this is fantasy, so be it,
But I haven't heard the words yet.

User Rating: 3,9 / 5 ( 7 votes ) 8

Comments (8)

The toilet went whoosh... Aft'wards the man gruntned, aft, he pushed. There was a sound, that went splash... What was eaten too much, was corned beef and hash. Did you hear, the porcelin toilet crack? ... Was it caused from an over filling attack? Did ye dropp a brick? ... Did it break, instead of stick? Oh well, can you tell? ... How much fatter, had I to swell. Great write and God bless them all-MJG.
A nice piece. 10 for it.
There are messages out there everywhere, and inside too, from every point of the internal universe. You seemed to be attuned to them. Perhaps the language you're listening to isn't burdened with words. Thought provoking poem Mr Babbin which was a genuine pleasure to read.
I like this poem. It has a roundness to it.
very interesting write here. I haven't figured out if it's metaphorical or if your actually deaf...either way there is alot to digest..is the little man representative of your imagination. And why words specifically? Great write, excellent 10/10
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