Conflicting Influence

Conflicting influence Hearing silence my old man does when he slowly dance around the kitchen floor thinking he’s alone. When I sit still I can hear silence too. Noises and voices Louis Armstrong’s trumpet and the drumbeat of distant wars. Some of them fought and some waiting to be fought. And I hear the righteous defending a war where millions will die and our way of life will forever be scared by shame. People have lost their voice, because it drowned in the cacophony of conflicting messages that seep into our mind day and night. Overload, fuse gone, apathy. And my old man will never hear the good silence again.