tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63529516064362962612024-03-14T03:13:31.391-07:00Vooman's VoiceVooman's Voice is my political cartoon and or blog on the state of the world, politics, art, poetry, family or whatever else, I, in America with freedom of speech wish to speak, draw or screech about. I am hopeful that humor will enter into my views as I believe comedians manage to tell more truths than anyone. I write poetry, I paint, I sculpture. I cartoon and I try to learn the madness of the techno world without proper instruction.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-65968243749926327812012-11-05T14:26:00.000-08:002012-11-05T14:26:10.253-08:00<br />
A WORLD WHERE…<br />
There is food for all<br />
Where every park and public restroom also has a shower<br />
Where kindness and bullying is the norm<br />
Where many shelters house the few <br />
Where a fair wage for all jobs is practiced<br />
Where greed and malice are replaced by concern and care<br />
Where nations come to help not to kill or take<br />
Where people actually practice goodness<br />
Where peace is desired above profit<br />
Where streets are safe and dwellings for all<br />
Where camping is for fun not a necessity<br />
Where paychecks are not eaten away by <br />
taxes, deductions, insurance, heath care and hidden charges<br />
Where dogs, cats and other animals are not hungry.<br />
Where anger is low and laughter abounds<br />
Where people are dancing and playing together in good fun<br />
Where prison are replaced by houses of care, concern and cure<br />
Where jobs are many and varied<br />
Where people can have leisure without worry<br />
Where sickness, dieing and burial will not bankrupt <br />
<br />
Oh Angry Hearts, why waste your hours and days on vengeance<br />
when only cool heads generate love<br />
Oh Thief, of your own peace of mind<br />
Oh Greed, poisoning your own blood<br />
Give up your desire for <br />
Too much sensation<br />
Too much passion<br />
Too many highs <br />
Too much food, <br />
Too many pills<br />
Too much money<br />
Too many parties<br />
Too much gambling<br />
Too many drinks or drugs<br />
It can only lead to your own downfall<br />
Go sober into the day and the night<br />
Tear away, fault finding, slander and righteousness<br />
Live not a lie in your own body <br />
<br />
Make a world where…..<br />
Where roses are blooming in the front yard<br />
Where the organic garden is producing<br />
Where apples ripen on your own tree<br />
Where our neighbors across the world<br />
Fear not our actions<br />
Where children and grandchildren<br />
Are laughing and happy<br />
Where we think, first, of what is good for the world <br />
…Linda King 11/5/2012 <br />
vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-50738660148491212482012-10-20T13:52:00.001-07:002012-10-20T13:52:10.624-07:00<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
THE WAYWARD WORLD<br />
<br />
The wayward world continues on it’s way<br />
To theft, to lying, to violence and killing<br />
Is there any sense to cry in protest<br />
When so many seem not to care<br />
Anyone who has eyes to read<br />
Ears to hear knows what is happening<br />
In this not caring, not listening, wayward world<br />
In every country, state, city and family<br />
There is conflict and unfairness<br />
Everywhere someone is fighting somebody<br />
<br />
We of the wayward world don’t<br />
listen to our own conscious<br />
Telling us what is right or wrong<br />
Moses came down from the mountain<br />
So many year ago with ten commandments<br />
That I doubt have ever been followed<br />
As a child when I first heard them<br />
I thought, “Is that all? Anybody can do that.”<br />
But…no… nobody can… nobody does<br />
For we are headstrong in this wayward world<br />
<br />
We will do what we want<br />
Not what is good for the world<br />
Not even what is good for ourselves<br />
Even if we pollute the air<br />
Poison the rivers<br />
Kill all the trees and vegetation<br />
Kill our babies, scorn our once friends<br />
Disown our owns families<br />
Even if drugs become our God<br />
Even if drought leads us to starvation<br />
Even if the homeless dig in the garbage to eat<br />
And the insane curse on the streets<br />
<br />
We and THEY will have their wayward way<br />
Excusing where THEY…where we went wrong<br />
After all, it is a very big WAYWARD WORLD<br />
…Linda King 8/23/2012vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-873114394407766462012-03-05T14:17:00.001-08:002012-03-06T19:19:50.576-08:00THE GREAT LEAP FORWARDMy Vooman’s Voice has been rather quiet lately as I was going through eye surgery and couldn’t see my computer, but on the 29th of Feb, I went to North Beach and participated in THE WORLD POETY MOVEMENT. Jack Hirschman helped organize this group and also the Revolutionary Poets Brigade. He read off a list of countries who were also participating, I think there were thirty-three, who were also taking THE GREAT LEAP FORWARD. The arcane that Jack Hirschman read was very humorous and an inspiration. Other readers were Sharon Doubiago, Agneta Falk, Bobby Colemen, Dottie Pane, Jessica Loos and many, many more. <br />
When I saw Jerry, the owner of the Beat Museum, I was with Sharon and I said, “We are world class poets,direct me to were THE GREAT LEAP FORWARD is happening. I’m read to leap.” He gave me a thumb’s up to upstairs.<br />
I read two poem at the Beat Museum and one later that night at Art International. We had a great time and I leaped around quite a bit, even on the dance floor, later. That last glass of wine was a little over filled and went right to my feet,…but…never the less. And, I always thought leap year day was when a woman could ask a man to marry. <br />
I am part of The Revolutionary Poets Brigade. I said, “I don’t know if Jack knows that on my lips, Revolutionary Poets Brigade, comes out as a laugh line.” After hearing his arcane, I decided he must know it has a humorous ring, at least for me.<br />
When one of my coffee buddies ask me what I was going to do the next day I said, "After you have made a great leap forward, you don't have to do anything the next day."<br />
I forgot to mention we had a singer, Jimmy Bryon, who sang a beautiful song about Freedom. It had such an unusual music composition, I thought it was beautiful. On his second song he striped, sang and played in the nude. Someone call out, "So what. I see that every morning." I said, "Hold on, that's you. I haven't see any up close for two or three years." I was a little worried about dangling things getting caught in the guitar strings. Jimmy is a very talented writing and musician. I had a camera and didn't even get a picture.<br />
<br />
<br />
FOR THE PEOPLE BY THE PEOPLE<br />
<br />
What happened to For The People by the People?<br />
The people were not watching<br />
When freedoms were taken away<br />
When Congress became <br />
For The Congress by Congress<br />
With no regard for future generations<br />
Who could never foot the bill for selfish pensions<br />
Or bridges to nowhere<br />
Older Congressman we thought we could trust<br />
We found out had only learned<br />
How to cheat the people? <br />
Vote for Pork Barrel spending?<br />
Assist Corporations to buy lobbies?<br />
Change laws in their own favor?<br />
Use inside information to buy stock?<br />
The people where asleep or too trusting<br />
Things had been going well<br />
There was money to spend<br />
They had saving for retirement<br />
They paid no attention when wages <br />
Went higher and higher for the bosses<br />
Bigger and bigger pensions and huge bonuses for<br />
Unions Stewards, CEO and Bank exclusivities<br />
The people were asleep when their wages were taken<br />
And gambled on stock opptions <br />
With not even a choice of where the money went<br />
And the jobs slowly slid away<br />
To other countries, to cheaper wages<br />
Not that these company did the right thing<br />
It was for The Company by The Company<br />
They were only taking advance <br />
Of the poor from other countries<br />
<br />
How can lost freedoms be returned?<br />
It took year of the slipping and sliding<br />
Of our lawmakers to get us into this mess<br />
Somehow, everybody thought <br />
It would happen later, much later<br />
They would long be dead<br />
But it’s happening now<br />
The figures never did add up<br />
For the future generations<br />
<br />
Wake up people. You are the people<br />
Be FOR THE PEOPLE BY THE PEOPLE<br />
It is you, your children, your grandchildren<br />
Let us all fight this take over<br />
Let’s fight for our freedoms<br />
Let’s get rid of laws against our freedoms<br />
In Government, in states, in courts,<br />
In cities, counties and prisons<br />
Get rid of those who vote away your freedoms<br />
And tax our paycheck to zero<br />
Be ever vigilant and alert to corruption within<br />
Corruption in high places<br />
Corruption within the law<br />
Corrupt money made at your expense<br />
Be aware of the greed, the lies, the theft, the fraud<br />
Take hold of your power <br />
Let your vote speak, your ears hear<br />
Your eyes be ever watchful<br />
Your mouth protest<br />
Don’t let the game be YOU<br />
…Linda King 2/26/12<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
BANKS AND THE AMERICAN DREAM <br />
<br />
When I divorced in 1970<br />
I couldn’t get a credit card<br />
Even though I had $20,000<br />
In the bank from an inheritance<br />
I was a woman<br />
All credit had been<br />
In my husband’s name<br />
Finally a card company, First Card<br />
Took a chance on me<br />
<br />
Then came the years<br />
Where every bank <br />
Wanted everyone to have<br />
Their credit cards <br />
And we all paid off one card<br />
To get another with cheaper interest<br />
At least for 6 months<br />
6 months here, 6 months there<br />
You could buy a house<br />
If you had a down payment<br />
Banks were already<br />
Earning enough interest<br />
But got more and more greedy<br />
They didn’t just want just interest<br />
But compound interest by the day<br />
Always taking their money first<br />
They didn’t want customers<br />
They wanted slaves to the bank<br />
Possibly lifetime slaves<br />
7% become 10% <br />
Even up to 25% on credit cards<br />
Until you were paying<br />
More in interest on the house or card<br />
Than the price of the house or money taken<br />
<br />
And getting even more greedy <br />
Banks along with the mortgage companies<br />
Began approving houses for people<br />
They knew couldn’t make the payment<br />
Let alone the balloon payment<br />
Due in two or three years<br />
And then, there was the refinancing<br />
With a $5000 fee, wizards at work<br />
And the buy-downs and paperwork <br />
That was half and inch thick<br />
<br />
The normal man didn’t try to understand<br />
He just signed and signed and signed<br />
What did he care he had nothing anyway<br />
So how could he loose anything?<br />
<br />
The banks and the mortgage companies<br />
And the Insurance companies<br />
Schemed together to make big, easy money<br />
For the loans were guaranteed by the government<br />
Each house needed insurance <br />
Flood, fire, earthquake, disaster <br />
Insurance was made mandatory<br />
Of course, they paid Lobbyist<br />
After all, aren’t we all<br />
Working on the American Dream<br />
<br />
When you had to walked away<br />
From a house you have been<br />
Paying on for twenty years, but never owned<br />
Your $30,000 home changed to $59.000<br />
And $59.000 to $83,000<br />
And $83,000 to $135,000<br />
It could have been $280,000<br />
Mortgage appraised and bank stamped<br />
I was just not as greed as the banks <br />
who took billions and then trillions in bailout<br />
<br />
We knew, we all got into GREED<br />
Just like the banks…why not?<br />
Just like our politicians, stockbrokers,<br />
Like healthcare, unions, corporations <br />
The city, the state, the courts, policemen<br />
Doctors, dentist, drug companies, hospitals<br />
You name it…Capitalism running amok<br />
To any country, to any people <br />
Who would take lower wages <br />
And give corporations lower taxes<br />
It’s the America way<br />
<br />
And like the banks<br />
I, too, wanted my share<br />
I could use their money to make some money <br />
I was getting older, my SS check tiny<br />
So, now, when the collectors call<br />
Telling me what I owe<br />
On my lost house, now in foreclosure<br />
And my flood insurance in the rear<br />
Home insurance tacked onto my equity loan<br />
Double/triple, plus late fees over late fees<br />
That can never be stopped<br />
Everything doubled and compounded<br />
What can I say, I’ve been deregulated<br />
Money has lost its value<br />
The Bank wouldn’t talk to me<br />
Now I won’t talk to them<br />
As they juggle my payment<br />
From Washington Mutual to Chase<br />
From Countrywide Mtg. to Bank of America<br />
<br />
When they do get me one the phone<br />
Being kindly, I say to my collector <br />
“My dear, if I were to pay<br />
All of those bills and charges<br />
You are asking me to pay<br />
You, Darling, would be out of a job<br />
Employment is, sorely, needed<br />
In America right now. Thank you.”<br />
And I hang up and don’t answer again<br />
<br />
THIS from a woman<br />
Was never late until 2008<br />
Even with the unreasonableness of <br />
Flood insurance for Phoenix Arizona…Ha!<br />
Who can afford to file bankruptcy? Not me<br />
…Linda King 2/2011<br />
<br />
<br />
After the reading, one man praised my poems highly saying I should read them on the radio as it was one of the best summing up of what had actually happened that he had ever heard. After talking to my sister about her husbands cancer I read my old poem NEMO at night.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-48508436189734349622011-07-12T00:26:00.001-07:002011-07-12T00:33:51.009-07:00REVOLUTION OF THOUGHT<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEN4DIKi2Yo/Thv4uhUX-jI/AAAAAAAAAGM/n3kTmJ9FhH0/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEN4DIKi2Yo/Thv4uhUX-jI/AAAAAAAAAGM/n3kTmJ9FhH0/s320/005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628365637431065138" /></a><br /><br />Records of war and death<br />Go back thousand of years<br />Man has never been at peace<br />He can never have peace <br />Without a revolution of the mind<br />First of all he needs<br />To lay down religion<br />Or at least think about it differently<br />Religion has cause more wars<br />Than all the madmen of the world<br />Your God or my God<br />Who is the best God<br />Who created the best God <br />Jehovah, Buddha, Christ, Allah<br />Is the God who wants<br />A foreskin really better<br />Than one who wants a clitoris<br />Better than a Monkey God<br />Or the Elephant God, Gnash<br />Or God hanging on a cross<br />Insanity fighting with insanity<br /><br />Lay down religion for world peace<br />Let good sense prevail<br />Lay down prejudices<br />Lay down greed<br />Lay down love of power<br />Lay down the class system<br />Lay down politics<br />None of the systems have work<br />Not the right, not the left<br />Not dictators, Not Kings<br />Not Lenin, Hitler or Napoleon <br />We need a revolution of the mind<br />A revaluation of history <br />How many thousands of years<br />Must this go on <br />Before man wakes up, smartens up<br />And comes up with something new<br />Something never before tried<br />Lay down weapons<br />Lay down war planes<br />Lay down rockets, drones and bombs<br />Wake up world<br />STOP!!<br />Nothing was ever solved<br />By tearing down, destroying <br />Look at ancient Greece and Rome <br />Killing a race, a tribe, a nationality<br />Is not even possible<br />It was insanity of superiority<br />We are too many, too mixed<br />But starvation can kill millions<br />Murder and war has never worked<br />It will never work<br />Lay down your war planes<br />Lay down your love of oil, diamonds and gold<br />Lay down your strategies<br />Get off your adrenaline high<br /><br />Only those who build, plant food<br />House and feed the people<br />Have peace in mind<br /><br />We have computers<br />We can reach the world<br />We can have transparency<br />We can have honesty<br />We can have something new<br />We can have a world working together<br />We can use our minds<br />We can reason about how to <br />Actually achieve PEACE ON EARTH<br />Revolution of thought<br />A Revolution of the mind<br /> …Linda King 7/11/11vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-55240429620970985682011-04-28T19:23:00.000-07:002011-04-28T19:42:24.901-07:00REELING WITH WONDER<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SlZ5bQLLNnY/Tboim1n8EYI/AAAAAAAAAGA/SorxekiQiqY/s1600/Carke%2BJed%2Band%2BGigi%2B040.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SlZ5bQLLNnY/Tboim1n8EYI/AAAAAAAAAGA/SorxekiQiqY/s320/Carke%2BJed%2Band%2BGigi%2B040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600827137213600130" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />Days are disappearing into <br />The deep fog of San Francisco<br />Disappearing days of wondering<br />Wondering if the Middle East<br />Can free it’s self from a dictator<br />Firing upon his own people with<br />Guns, grenades and mortars <br />Wondering if America can<br />Climb out of it’s credit hole<br />It’s unemployment, it’s <br />Homeless people on the streets<br />Wondering if Japan can<br />Clean up it’s earthquake disaster<br />It’s radiation and bury it’s dead<br />Wondering about the tornadoes<br />It's death and destruction<br />And the floods and fires<br />Wondering if cities and states<br />All over America can <br />Balance their budgets<br />And bring jobs back to America<br />Wondering when my son can get hired<br />Wondering when gas prices will go down<br />Wondering if there will be enough money<br />To make it through the month<br />Wondering if there is anything<br />One person can say or do<br />That will make a difference<br />Is it me, or is the whole world<br />Experiencing the same<br />Change shoved into our lives<br />Without relief from day to day<br />Leaving us all reeling with wonder<br /><br />Leaving one to welcome the fog<br />With it’s clouds of white softness<br />To smother things into unreality<br />And soften the harsh realities of life<br />With it’s hard edges…coming to fast <br />..Linda King 4/25/11vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-92199487712102792412011-04-18T15:36:00.000-07:002011-04-18T16:53:31.913-07:00A VISIT WITH MY COUSIN IN PETALUMA<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FhOr4l6mO88/TazFJm6DkCI/AAAAAAAAAF4/lFPdUS_LHW8/s1600/IMAGE0370.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FhOr4l6mO88/TazFJm6DkCI/AAAAAAAAAF4/lFPdUS_LHW8/s320/IMAGE0370.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597065205768228898" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JSsyKR39oSo/TazEtcA_egI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ie9akuMNiFc/s1600/IMAGE0385.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JSsyKR39oSo/TazEtcA_egI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ie9akuMNiFc/s320/IMAGE0385.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597064721808194050" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CULZ9CcKU7U/Tay_-JSuFDI/AAAAAAAAAFo/x0yj9cuVfcM/s1600/Carke%2BJed%2Band%2BGigi%2B139.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CULZ9CcKU7U/Tay_-JSuFDI/AAAAAAAAAFo/x0yj9cuVfcM/s320/Carke%2BJed%2Band%2BGigi%2B139.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597059511281914930" /></a><br /><br />I spent the week end with my cousin in Petaluma, pictured with her dog. A couple of years ago, we went on a trip up the Oregon coast with this little dog, Butler. He has since died and I thought she would appreciate this picture of them together and the one I took of him alone. We left him tied while we went to eat and he was not happy. She loved this dog and I have never been able to send her a picture by e-mail. I mess it up every time. I'll try this. <br />It was just beautiful up north, but I didn't have my camera. All of the rolling hill are a emerald green with cows and sheep grazing. They do have happy cows up Petaluma way. <br />For our walk we went to the Cheese and Egg Festival and got many tasty bits of this and that. The next day we went to Sebastopol to the Flea Market and on the way hit on a great Estate Sale. We both found treasures, that we might never use. The drive up and and back was great with blossoms, green and spring flowers everywhere.<br />The baby lambs were nice too. On my way home the sky was filled with every kind of cloud you can think of...all in one sky, and as I neared S.F. the fog slipped over the hill and bled down the other side...beautiful. The bridge in fog is unreal too. <br /><br />The other house, I drive by every weekday taking the kids to school. The clouds were so beautiful, this day, I stopped and took a picture of the house. This house would have been the entrance house of the Ingleside housing development which was built on the site of the old Ingleside Horse Racing Track, where my daughter has her house, and I thought my daughter, Carissa, didn't like horses. There is a circle of houses that go right around where the track it's self would have been. Carissa likes to run there. She's been a runner since high school and still keeps it up...pretty good. <br />I've had a hard time getting to my writing since Margie, my sister's death. It still seems unreal. I wish she had made it up here to see all this green after so much rain.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-40075428261463429492011-03-26T19:51:00.000-07:002011-03-26T20:20:11.025-07:00FLOYD ENCE AND HIS BELOVED RACEHORSES AND HOUND<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gDKTjF-mERY/TY6re9QEOQI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PbAqUg0MY6Y/s1600/IMAGE0373.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gDKTjF-mERY/TY6re9QEOQI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PbAqUg0MY6Y/s320/IMAGE0373.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588592735939737858" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pd4k6-57l1E/TY6q_bmwDbI/AAAAAAAAAFU/hEbbrdNDKQA/s1600/IMAGE0372.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pd4k6-57l1E/TY6q_bmwDbI/AAAAAAAAAFU/hEbbrdNDKQA/s320/IMAGE0372.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588592194332134834" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f7UxBAzQ5zs/TY6q_OvNO4I/AAAAAAAAAFM/yVeSY0R5Jg0/s1600/IMAGE0372.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f7UxBAzQ5zs/TY6q_OvNO4I/AAAAAAAAAFM/yVeSY0R5Jg0/s320/IMAGE0372.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588592190877940610" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W8N0gMESWzM/TY6qNz34hdI/AAAAAAAAAFE/FNjencyzlHQ/s1600/IMAGE0371.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W8N0gMESWzM/TY6qNz34hdI/AAAAAAAAAFE/FNjencyzlHQ/s320/IMAGE0371.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588591341852984786" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YXUGWASDO2c/TY6p1EnQ_DI/AAAAAAAAAE8/RpRvlXm04PY/s1600/IMAGE0375.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YXUGWASDO2c/TY6p1EnQ_DI/AAAAAAAAAE8/RpRvlXm04PY/s320/IMAGE0375.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588590916849957938" /></a><br />The photos I am putting up are of my brother-in-law Floyd Ence, his racehorses and dog. He ran racehorses at all the tracks in Utah, Golden Gate, Hollywood Park and Santa Anita. His dog "Whitie" seems to love these horses as much as Floyd did. He seems to be posing for me when I took these pictures. Margie loved the Utah races and went with him often. I went when I was in town to Beaver, Escalante, Panguitch, Cedar City, St George, etc. A Ence horse was often the winner. Floyd didn't Gamble, but I did and won some easy money because we knew his horses were a cut above most in Utah. Many of these photo are of the Mares who were having the colts. He had one little colt he saved in the correl from the wolves or something he was pretty beat up. All of his horse seem to love him and came to him to be petted any time he was in the fields at his Mountain Meadow Ranch. Just down from the ranch was where the Mountain Meadow Massacre took place. One of his friend died on the fence there shot by his own gun as he climbed he fence. It was a little spooky up there. I seems to hear moans and groans on the wind.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-39938705413356784022011-03-24T20:16:00.000-07:002011-03-24T20:19:44.077-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YFNhYbHBL-I/TYwJtyVEm8I/AAAAAAAAAE0/ApQnt2H5Yxo/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YFNhYbHBL-I/TYwJtyVEm8I/AAAAAAAAAE0/ApQnt2H5Yxo/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587851919868861378" /></a>vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-5447096985521907122011-03-24T19:11:00.000-07:002011-03-24T20:14:16.772-07:00DEATH IN THE FAMILYMy sister, the nurse practitioner, died last night. It was unexpected. She had a another repair on her foot, the fourth surgery to relieve pain. They don't know if it was a stroke, a heart attack or a blood clot. I have been talking to everybody today, but I still can't rest. I clicked on her name, Marg, like I always do. I read her her last blog...maybe there was a clue? Then I posted a comment on her Blog site even though she is gone. We sister have been so close. They have always called us five peas in a pod...among other things. Over the years we have had such fun together.<br /><br />Hi, Marg... I guess you are over there with LaRae now. At least one person is happy. You know,I am going to miss you so much. I could always come to your place and feel welcome, through all of your years. You and Pole could be so funny together. And there were those time when we all stayed with you at your Escalante house. I was your bartender at Star Hall and we put together some great dancing parties. You and Pole were always the best dancers. I, also, had great times with you visiting the cabin at The Meadows and with Floyd too. He loved that cabin. It should have been left how it was..well, maybe, just cleaned up the singles outside. The cabin had so many memories for him and his brother...and you too, as you drove back and forth up there for him so many years. You have been good to all our family, and all his family. I'm sorry I didn't call you again yesterday, but I was giving you a day. You nursed Floyd over and above the call of any wife or nurses duty. <br />You seemed more like the old Margie, after Floyd had gone to a care home. You probably over-did, after he left, getting the house cleaned, painted,and the carpet changed. You never did know how to be messy or say, "No," to a medical doctor.<br />I like our middle of the night talks. You were the only one I could call in the middle of he night. You were always awake when I called...the pain you said. <br />I know, now, that the dream about that Gangster, Joe Burns, was for you. He came and "stole" you away. When that black Gangster car drove way and I saw it going up the road toward Leeds, where Joe used to live (Or going to Boulder.)..I thought, that looks more like a Hearst than a gangster car. Joe knew that you always loved him. <br />Well, Goodbye, for while...say "Hello," to Mom, Daddy, Ray and all the rest of the family. We are going to miss you. What is Buddy,(the dog) going to do without you?<br />He is going to be so sad. I remember that great a big White Russian hound, that killed his own deer to eat, He loved you, too. No one would ever hurt you with him around. I'm glad I did your sculpture.<br />Your kids are Griffins. They might never stop crying.<br />Lov you, Sis....Linda, (the baby)<br />Love you.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-16968954294191180582011-03-21T11:51:00.000-07:002011-03-21T17:37:35.127-07:00LETTERS TO VOOMANSince Vooman's alter ego has received questions by e-mail from "fans." Ha... I decided to answer the questions here on VOOMAN'S VOICE so I could.. Well...kill two jobs with one finger action. And let other people read, as well. Whose knows who don't know what about me. <br />"You are such an inspiration." ...(I wish I could inspire myself right now...)<br />"I am dumbstruck that so little is known about you, your early life in Utah and what made you the genius artist that you are. (I like that, I think it is the first time anyone has used the word "genius" on paper about me. It was in a sentence with "dumb," but "dumb" and "dumbstruck" are two different words. I am very sensitive about the word "dumb."<br />Lois Munoz is writing a film script to respond to caricatures created in "WOMEN," by the late and great, Charles Bukowski. Doesn't she know this about him? ..."I write 90% of the truth and the other 10% is an improvement on the truth." I am not sure that I can be too helpful as I have made a caricature of myself...here on VOOMAN'S VOICE, maybe long before that. But, one should respond to anyone who calls them genius...art genius.. <br /><br />Dear Lois,<br />In respond to your questions. <br /><br />What was your first experience with art? <br /><br />I came from Boulder, Utah, the most beautiful area in American. It's in the heart of Escalante Staircase National Monuments, where there is over 200 miles of scenic beauty.<br />My first art experience was with the gang who painted graffiti on the rocks. My older sister, LaRae, also an artist, was the leader of the gang. We painted a huge nude up there on a beautiful, flat, red sand rock canvas. It was a dangerous climb and we painted long, even though we had to hurry before any cars came by and we got caught. Nudes were not honored in Mormon country like they were in Rome. It, later, becane the favorite target practice of the boys, who, I think shot her boobs right off. When we went to repaint, we had to add a Bikini, but it was never as good as the first one. And the sign killed it, LAND OF ENCHANTMENT AND BEAUTIFUL WOMEN. <br /><br />Who or what inspired you to create art?<br /><br />After I got married and lived in Hollywood. I used to stroll, with my new baby, by this studio that had a little sculpture head in the window and admire it. I wanted to be an actress, but my husband had made me promise, I would give up that dream. He, later, agreed to let me sign up for a sculpture class. I found out at that class that I could catch a likeness better than anyone in the room. I have since had many, many dreams of sculpturing in past lives. One day while I was watching T. V. I jumped up scream, "Come and look. My sculptures are on T.V. I know I helped do those." It was some site in India. The sculptures ere buried in vines with monkeys all round. Russian, American Indian and Mayan art are, also, buried in my unconsciousness, as well. I must go to Rome before I die. I am thinking of sneaking off the trail to a cave in Boulder and sculpture in sandstone again, before 90.<br /><br />Where did you study and who were your favorite artist?<br /><br />I went to Adult School in Burbank, Calif. Milton Nickelson was the teacher. He used to do portrait heads at Universal City for $50 a head. He sculptured people from all over the world.<br />I took Ceramics at Dixie College at St. George Utah and found out I could not make a round pot...I could not. I told the teacher, "Don't give up on me, I am going to get a year of therapy and try again." He said, "Don't do that, the therapist are sending their patients to us." I, mostly, studied on my own. I am taking my first live sculpture class now, at San Francisco City College.<br />My favorite artist is, Rodin, even though he didn't treat women all that great..unless he was between their legs, at the moment. I saw The Rodin Sculpture Garden and Museum in Paris, it was great. They did have some of "her" work at his Museum. That was nice of him. See how the "she" is forgotten. Even I can't remember...and can't find her name right now. She got so frustrated, "she" destroyed her work...or most of it. That's why I can't remember. I don't like that. I was even against Saddam sculptures being destroyed....after all he wasn't the artist.<br /><br />What traumas or acts of beauty fuel your creativity?<br /><br />I had a breakdown in the 60's, which I wrote a book about called MAD OUIJA......still unpublished. My book about Bukowski,LOVING AND HATING CHARLES BUKOWSKI (the 70's)......still unpublished. On the good side, love is a good motivator. Bukowski and I wrote and created quite well together. He was always doing oil stick or chalk drawings for his books, while I sculptured. Of course, he wrote like a madman, so the writing was there too. He was the beginning of me doing portraits of writers and poets. I've sold about over a dozen of Bulowski's head in bronze. I suppose some of those fights we had, created some poetry. <br /><br />Was your environment where and how you grew up, conducive to you becoming an artist?<br /><br />I rode a Bus, an hour, morning and night to school and we got creative on that bus, so as not to get too bored with songs, talks, debates, discussions, etc. My oldest sister, Geraldine King, went away to school, but was the writer of the family and she wrote volumes. She is now blogging and working on her Autobiography. She has written so many plays and books I can't count them......still unpublished. She is pushing 79. She tried to make all of her sisters into writers. We had a little rag before Bukowski. It was called HALF N' HALF. In fact, I have one of his poem published in one of them. We were five girl and we trained to be cowgirls because my Dad had no cowboys and herd of a 1000 cattle to take care of. I still have a great love of horses. We partied and dance with great energy, too.<br />My nephew, Raymond Shurtz, is a playwright, song writer and poet in Phoenix. He has had great theater events with, one act plays, written by many writers including me, his mother Gerry, Brenda Edward, Gus Edwards and many more. Gerry has had original plays performed in Phoenix and Utah. He has had close to 25 original plays done. My mother was also a writer. THE KINGS OF BOULDER, being one of them, mostly self published. My sister Ann writes history and will have a book out this summer LET'S DRIVE, stories and maps of Escalante Staircase National Monumnent. My sister, Margie, wrote a book about her husband Floyd Ence of St George, Utah. My niece, Cheryl, put together a book, EARLY WOMEN SETTLERS, of Boulder, for The Hertiage Festival. I am going there this summer to...well,... build fence. My hometown is becoming a hide out for artist, writer. organic gardeners, musicians, and mountain pot growers,etc. <br />I managed to get two poems in REVOLUTIONARY POETS BRIGADE, San Francisco. I probably the laziest of the sister...spoiled baby. I did a heads of Jack Hirshman <br />A.D.Winans, Lawrence Farlinghettim Jack Micheline, Harold Norse and Neeli Chercovski of S.F. I am loving my live nudes the most right now. Oh, Oh, I've got to pick up my Grandkids from school.<br /><br />98% Trufully yours, <br /><br />Vooman <br />of VOOMAN'S VOICE<br /><br />****All or part of my words or soul can be used...or published.<br />****Write,Dear Vooman, at your own risk.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-92162028241556044832011-03-02T10:49:00.000-08:002011-03-02T12:27:37.863-08:00REVOLUTIONARY POET BRIGADE CLEBRATES EGYPTOn Friday I went to a party to celebrate Egypt's freedom from it's dictator. Everything is so up in the air in the middle east it might not be the time to celebrate at all, with rumored up to 2000 killed in Libya. I guess each country and people who frees it's self from oppressive rule can be celebrated. The party was held at Dottie Payne's new gallery space that is is in North Beach, about two blocks into Chinatown. About twenty poets read one poem each. We even had a woman poetess from the Middle East reading. There were some excellent poems. I read one poem.<br /><br />NECESSARY COMMUNE-ISM,TRIBAL-ISM, <br />SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS FOR AN <br />OVER POPULATED WORLD<br /><br />You see it is not about <br />A political party<br />It is about survival<br />A rational way of<br />Distributing the foods<br />Of the world <br />To the most people<br />So that greed does not<br />Eat up someone else’s <br />Fair share of commodities<br />It is a rational way<br />Of living together<br />For the common good<br />We cannot tolerate<br />Corporate greed or<br />Dictators of the world<br />Profiting off the poor<br />For their own<br />Selfish interest<br />Lining their pockets<br />With stolen monies<br />...Yes, they should be<br />Hunted down <br />And stripped of their <br />Power, jailed<br />Sent into exile<br />Accounts frozen<br />Treated as the<br />Criminals they are<br />The days of the <br />Powermongers are over<br />And their guns <br />Will rust along side<br />Their dead bodies<br />For the meek<br />Shall inherit the earth<br />And respect the earth<br />It’s plants, it’s animal<br />It’s environment<br />It’s people<br />For we the people<br />Will work side by side<br />Planting the earth<br />For the good of all<br />We will use the earth's<br />Gas, oil and metals<br />For the good of all<br />The animals<br />Large and small<br />For the good of all<br />A necessary reality<br />Yes, it is about survival<br />…Linda King - 2/21/11<br /><br />At the party there was food and wine, a band played and many danced. It was a good night. Dottie was an excellent host. I love her new space where she will be having other events, art shows, etc. I had a great time even though I had been up since early morn and worn out and had to go home and rest. I had been to my Life Sculpture class, (five hours), which takes a lot of energy and then I spent the afternoon in North Beach visiting with other poets at Cafe Trieste, visiting at the Beat Museum with Jerry C. and even danced at The Saloon, before the party. The music was so good it drew me in. <br />I am still watching CNN to see what is going to happen in Libya and the rest of the middle east. It seems like a very unsettling time. Already the gas is skyrocketing.<br />I hope Qadhafi will step down without more people being slaughtered. He is an old warlord and crazy as well, so I don't expect it. It's worrisome. One man who worked for him said he had a lot of chemical weapons.<br />I had a dream where I saw the Statue of Liberty covered with people. It looks like one of those painting that are all people, but you don't know it's people until you look close. As I watched more and more blocks of people popped up slowly covering the Statue of Liberty. I took this to mean that more and more of the people of the world are going to be demanding their liberty. On the ground was a lot of fighting with some evil looking forces, but all the people on the Statue of Liberty were standing way above them, like they were going to be triumphant.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-94067037953057542011-02-20T12:47:00.000-08:002011-02-20T14:04:29.588-08:00BUKOWSKI, LINDA KING AND SHEL SILVERSTINE AT SANTA CRUZ<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhXfOUbcYaY/TWGAMMUq7vI/AAAAAAAAADU/sFQPuKRlebg/s1600/IMAGE0225.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhXfOUbcYaY/TWGAMMUq7vI/AAAAAAAAADU/sFQPuKRlebg/s320/IMAGE0225.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575878760616095474" /></a><br />I am trying to learn how to up load pictures on my blog and they are all failing to come up. This one finally took, so I guess I will have to write a blog about my trip with Bukowski to a Santa Cruz reading that was for Prisoners in Mexican Jails. He agreed to go along if they would also book me. He need me to make sure he got home again alright. Allen Ginsberg, Jack Micheline and many other famous poets were reading at this event. I think we had been separated, as well, and this was suppose to be a "get back together" event. I remember reading, A Cock, my then semi-famous poem. The Berkley Barb wrote about me.<br /><br />A COCK<br /><br />What is it?<br />A Cock is nothing <br />But a cock<br />Plop, plop, plop<br />What's that?<br />There's nothing that important<br />About going up and down in and out<br />It can produce a few seeds<br />That can grow into a million babies<br />Who wants a million babies?<br />Who even wants one more?<br />The most important thing<br />It does is pee<br />That's hardly noble<br />A cock is nothing but a cock<br />When it's soft it looks like<br />An overgrown worm creature<br />When it's hard it looks like<br />An over healthy mushroom<br />Why men think it is so important<br />I'll never know<br />They want you to look at it<br />Pet it, kiss it, love it, suck it<br />Even treat it like it's got a mind<br />When all on earth it can do<br />Is go up and down, in and out<br />Shoot a little juice<br />Juice that isn't even tasty<br />Oh, it might have a few proteins<br />But you couldn't' sell it<br />Even to a health food store<br />And they drink everything<br />And the worst part<br />If that juice gets inside<br />It produces something like<br />The big Daddy it came from<br />Growing up thinking<br />The same way<br />...Mommy, look at my pee, pee<br />...It's hard, hee, hee, hee<br />...Even at the age of two<br /><br />A cock is a cock, nothing more<br />...I might add, nothing less<br />..Linda King<br /><br />I have to give credit of that last line to my friend Dave in Phoenix. He came up with that line. I added it later.<br /><br />At this reading Bukowski got very, very drunk, insulted one and all including Ginsberg. I just had a new hair cut, and once drunk I don't even think he recognized me. I said aloud, several time, to myself that night as I walked around at the party. I am LINDA KING....not Charles Bukowski's girlfriend. When he fell down, I let someone else pick him up. I tried to enjoyed the drunken show. I turned my back on someone explaining what was happening to Bukowski in the bathroom. At the motel I slept in the chair. Bukowski demons were out that night. They don't make good bedfellows. It was close to the end for us.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-3878249723959841912011-02-20T12:33:00.000-08:002011-02-20T12:42:14.909-08:00vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-47756563549688277092011-02-17T16:16:00.000-08:002011-02-17T16:29:01.324-08:00BANKSTER, LIEYERS, ORGGAGE COMPANIES<br />INYOURPOCKETFORSURANCE, COUPERATIONS,<br />HELPYOURSELFCARE AND THE SHOCKMARKET<br /><br />If BANKSTERS stopped stealing our funds<br />Charging excessive late fees<br />Charging more interest than <br />Your house is worth<br /><br />If LIEYERS told the truth in court<br />And color didn’t land people in jail<br />If our HALL OF INJUSTICE weren’t fine factories<br />With people lined up a half a block long<br />Arbitrated to pay excessive fees<br />With no transparency about that money <br /><br />If INYOURPOCKETFORSURANCE were not<br />Also, in the game to raise your rates<br />With the smallest infraction charged and<br />Laws making mandatory insurance everywhere<br /><br />If ORGGAGE companies<br />Stopped adding compound interest to home loans<br />And charging outrageous refinance fees<br />And would, deduct house payments, honestly<br />From the beginning of the loan <br />If our lawmakers would put a cap on interest<br /><br />If HELPYOURSELFCARE didn’t do unneeded tests<br />Inflating the bills for Medicare or Medicaid<br />Transferring your savings to their coffers<br />Until most ill people’s have nothing left<br />If drug company and hospitals didn’t overcharge<br /><br />If THE SHOCKMARKET stopped inside trading<br />And pocketing your saving by phony IRA’s<br />Which are a gamble, as sure as the Rolette wheel<br />Many people having no say about their own money<br /><br />Then maybe, just maybe, the common man<br />Could make it on even a minimum wage<br />With a small house to live in and saving in tact<br />And the American dream could come back<br />With Construction happening and jobs available <br /><br />Forget about recouping anything from the COUPERATIONS<br />Capitalism has them in a strangle hold <br />They’re going to make money <br />No matter what country they have to do it in<br />USA people be damned. Only the devil may care.<br /> …Linda King - 2/15/2011vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-85362234322237492722011-02-12T20:53:00.000-08:002011-02-12T21:30:58.521-08:00BANKS,INSURANCE AND THE AMERICAN DREAM<br /><br />When I divorced in 1970<br />I couldn’t get a credit card<br />Even though I had money <br />In the bank from an inheritance<br />Everything had been<br />In my husband’s name<br />Finally one called First Card<br />Took a chance on me<br />Then came the years<br />Where every bank <br />Wanted everyone to have<br />Their credit cards<br />And we all paid off one card<br />To get another with cheaper interest<br />At least for 6 months<br />You could buy a house<br />If you had a down payment<br />The banks were already<br />Earning enough interest<br />But got more and more greedy<br />They didn’t want just interest<br />They wanted compound interest<br />added up by the day,...the minute?<br />Always taking their cut first<br />They didn’t want customers<br />They wanted slaves to the bank<br />Possibly lifetime slaves<br />7% become 10% <br />The 15% even up to 25%<br />Until you were paying<br />More in interest on the house<br />or credit card than money borrowed<br />or the price of the house<br />And getting even more greedy<br />Banks, along with the mortgage companies<br />Began approving house<br />For people they knew<br />Couldn't pay the payment<br />Let alone the escalating payment<br />Due in two or three years<br />And then, there was the $5000 refinancing<br />And the buy-downs and paperwork <br />That was half and inch thick<br />The normal man didn’t try to understand<br />He just signed, and signed and signed<br />What did he care he had nothing anyway<br />So how could he loose anything?<br />The Bank and the Mortgage Company <br />And the Insurance companies<br />Were all schemed to make money together<br />Flood, fire, earthquake, disaster <br />Insurance made mandatory<br />Of course, they paid Lobbyist<br />After all, aren’t we all<br />Working on the American Dream?<br />Then comes the time you walked away<br />From a house you have been<br />Paying on for twenty years<br />But never owned<br />Well a$30,000 home<br />Change to $59.000<br />And $59.000 to $83,000<br />And $83,000 to $135,000<br />It could have been $280,000<br />It was appraised for that<br />Mortgage approved, bank stamped<br />Now, we are all into GREED<br />Just like the banks…why not?<br />Just like our politicians, our courts<br />Like health care, unions, corporations <br />Doctors, dentist, drug companies<br />You name it…Capitalism<br />Running amok to any country<br />Who will take lower wages <br />And accept lower taxes<br />It’s the America way<br /><br />And like the banks<br />I,too, wanted my share <br />I am getting old <br />My Social Security check tiny<br />So when the collectors call<br />Telling me what I owe<br />The house, now, in foreclosure<br />And my flood insurance in the rear<br />House insurance tacked on to the loan<br />Double/triple, plus, late fees over late fees<br />That can never be stopped<br />Everything is compounded<br />What can I say<br />I’ve been deregulated<br />Money has lost it’s value<br />They wouldn’t talk to me<br />Now I won’t talk to them<br /><br />When trapped, being kindly, I say <br />“My dear, if I were to pay<br />All of those bills, late charges<br />And insurances you are asking me to,<br />You, darling, would be out of a job<br />Employment is, sorely, needed<br />In America right now. Thank you.”<br />And I hang up<br /><br />THIS from a woman<br />Was never late until 2007<br />…Linda King 2/2011vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-37229608116130838982011-01-30T11:32:00.000-08:002011-01-30T18:53:15.494-08:00PSYCHIC, DREAMS AND HUMOR FROM HEAVEN<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEoyqMolAxY/TUW9PdAIvRI/AAAAAAAAAC0/164k5cRy1xc/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEoyqMolAxY/TUW9PdAIvRI/AAAAAAAAAC0/164k5cRy1xc/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568064587494374674" /></a><br />Psychic insight and dreams is something everyone has. It is just that some people believe in it a lot more than others do and some, like me, have been doing it a lot longer. I started recording my dreams and seeing if they were important way back when I was thirty. So I have fifty years on some people. I have to come respect the truth of my dreams much more than what I see on T.V. I gave my grand kids empty note books for Xmas to record their dreams. One of them says to me, "Grandma, I don't dream." I told her. "You dream, you just don't remember them." <br />I took psychic development classes for years at a Spiritualist church and finally developed, got over my fears and gave messages to people. The hardest thing to learn was to believe, yourself, the message and not lets others distract you by their disbelief.<br />There was an old psychic there who always started her message with, "I have a message for you from the other side of life..." She had this squeaky voice and I would go home and say that line in exactly her tone...making everyone laugh. I love a good laugh line and wanted to steal it, but I didn't. Nobody laughed when she said it. I couldn't help thinking...she's psychic, she'll know I am making fun.<br />I'll tell you a few of the messages, that I call hits before I get to current messages.<br />#1 (This was to a man I had never seen before.) Sir, I'm sorry, but all I seem to be getting for you is alligators. I know this is Phoenix and the desert and their are no alligators around here...but. that it."<br />He said, "Well that is good enough for me because I'm here from Florida and I know who that message is from. It is from my brother-in-law who passed away recently. His backyard backed up to the swamp and his favorite thing was going down and watching the alligators. He even built a bench down there."<br />#2 This is not all of this message, but I told another woman I saw a set of department store legs that are set up to display hose or shoes, etc. She told me that her friend has died recently who was paralyzed and had told her before she died that the first thing she was going to do after she died was get a set of legs.<br />#3 Another young man in his messaged I gave him a old hay rake and a man who had something to do with honey, maybe beekeeper. He shook his head and looked at me like I was out of mind.<br />I said, "Well, I am not it taking back, it might mean something later." After the reading he came up to me and said, "I suddenly realized the messages was from Mr. Honeycutt. He lived next door when I was young and I loved that old man and went over to see him everyday. Between our places was this old hay rack that I passed by to get there.<br />I call these kind of messages hits. I guess being a gambler I looked upon it like the horse races. You couldn't win every time...but I also found out the psychic wouldn't work to pick winners. I doubt that's what it was devised for. Even though, I have been given winners in dreams like a horse, Red, that paid over $80 to win. <br />I have numerous dreams every night, my family are sick to death of them, but they just keep right on coming. I have expanded to dream about the world. My crystal ball changes into a word map and I, sometimes, get a birds eye few of what is going to happen like a huge waves or islands where a volcano is erupting. I dreamed of a Pyramid a couple of weeks ago and I kept looking for something to happen in Egypt. And here it is..still happening.<br />I dreamed numerous times of earthquakes and destruction before Haiti. So when I start to dream about something bad happening, I get a little nervous. <br />When some one is going to die in the family, I see my Dad riding in with a saddled horse to take someone back with him. <br />I have animal symbols for everyone, so when they come into my dreams I know who they are. My daughter, a Pig, (she has a collection of pigs.)<br />I announced my daughter was coming home early from the Peace Corp because I dream a pig got on the plane. She did. <br />My son, a cross, (he's a church going man.)<br />My youngest son has been, a Griffie, (as he has his head in the cloud a lot.) He's been changing to something else. It's dangerous during changes.<br />A friend who died, a Bear, (he had a dog named Bear.)<br />My sisters a Swan...etc. etc. See how it goes. The amazing thing about dreams and psychic insight is that they get it through to you with such a sparsity of words. One image can convey so much.<br />Like a telephone Pole...coming at me from the sky. I said, Pole a dozen its before I knew it was from the brother-in-law, Pole,of course, from the other side of life..ha. I called his daughter to see what was going on. There had a birth in her husbands family, but I told her her dad was looking after her. Her husband was still out of town, when a cougar stash his kill, a deer, almost at her back door. He did it on her dad's birthday. This in my home town of Boulder, Utah. If a cougar comes to me, I will know who it is. Or maybe that will be my niece's animal sign. Tony the Tiger, (his nickname from school) is, naturally, a tiger.<br />Rather than deceased or dead, I have been calling them the undead...<br /><br />I am tell you this because I am planning on adding a little dream box and messages to my Vooman's Voice. Like the one I had last night of a flash flood coming down a freeway. I jumped out of my car and climb a wall and headed for high ground. The guy behind passed driving to fast, right into it,cursing me as he went by. This was a warning, they will tell me later when and where.(Maybe) In the dream, I thought, I would be dead if I hadn't had advance warning. Some of the freeways in Phoenix look like canals. My undead sister ,LaRae, warned me about my driving only a couple of days before I drove into head-on traffic. I remembered the dream and knew...threw it in reverse and I backed up on a dime. (Whew!)<br />***warning, all reader much bear with my bad grammar, misspelled words, so S's, etc. etc. My computer doesn't speak yet and tell me what I have done wrong.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-72706914305043693772011-01-29T18:31:00.001-08:002011-01-30T13:00:55.840-08:00vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-50684040490919374842011-01-20T13:05:00.000-08:002011-01-22T14:06:14.312-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEoyqMolAxY/TTikJp_gTXI/AAAAAAAAACU/7gioh9HaT9Y/s1600/IMAGE0167.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEoyqMolAxY/TTikJp_gTXI/AAAAAAAAACU/7gioh9HaT9Y/s320/IMAGE0167.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564377825414237554" /></a><br /><br />This photo was taken on my senior trip at Knott's Berry Farm. I was always half way in love with Tony Reynolds, but he always had another girlfriend. I think I fell in love at first sight at the school playground at the old elementry school in Escalante when I was about six years old. That old brick two story school that should never been torn down. It was historic. Aunt Nethalla helped get half of the historic building in Escalante bulldozed. She was cleaning up the town. I have always loved old buildings. I think Dell LeFevere and Janel Spencer look pretty good in the photo too.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-73327130207696707862011-01-20T12:54:00.000-08:002011-01-22T14:48:55.975-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEoyqMolAxY/TTihS9andHI/AAAAAAAAACE/4wUxWCIkg84/s1600/IMAGE0304.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oEoyqMolAxY/TTihS9andHI/AAAAAAAAACE/4wUxWCIkg84/s320/IMAGE0304.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564374686712165490" /></a><br /><br />The photo was taken when my dad, Clyde King, was driving cattle probably to King Bench or to the Circle Cliffs. Much of the country looks like this in what we Boulder people called Down Below. I don't now how it got that name. Maybe the cowboys went through a little hell herding cattle in those rugged canyons and mesas.<br />Another rancher, Truman Lyman, had to get their cattle out of one of those canyon one winter during heavy snow. He said, "We only took the Lyman cattle, we left the King cattle and they all died." Since he later became a churchman, I felt like he felt a little guilt for leaving those cattle. Those trail were very dangerous and the cattle wild and unperdictable.<br />I drove cattle up the trail to King Bench and also drove them off the same trail. On old cow was so thristy and hungry, she ran out on the edge of the cliff to get a mouth full of grass and the edge broke off and she fell into the canyon, called The Gultch and died. <br />Daddy broke a leg on that same trail when his horse fell. My mom, Irene and I went down to pick him up. The men who had come to help went ahead of us. I ask how they got him out of there. He said, "After we put on a splint, we carried him off, four men...one on each corner of a blanket down the trail. Once down, we walked with four horses with him in the middle tied to each saddle with a lasso. We moved slowly up the canyon. It was not an easy ride for a man with a broken leg and horses walking in the dark." I remember we waited and waited a waited until they arrive about three in the morning. We load him in the back of the Power Wagon for another bumpy ride home...where they switch cars again to take him the 100 miles to the hospital where they could set the leg and put a cast on.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-531482701112405682011-01-07T19:44:00.000-08:002011-01-07T20:01:45.157-08:00BLOG THERAPY<br />Since I’ve missed my group therapy in Phoenix. I thought I might have a little Blog Therapy at least once a week. Anyone who has a problem can join and try to get their problem discussed. I think the most healing thing about group therapy is that you realize in group that you are not in this alone. There a lot of other people with problems as big or bigger than the ones you have. Somehow that makes you feel better.<br />I know there are probably a million or more people out there who have my problem and they just go get a facelift instead of face it. IT'S THE PROBLEM OF GETTING OLD. The face lift doesn’t help their skin or their elbows or their knees. I used to never notice the old, hobbling around, moan and groaning, but now I see them all the time. I wonder how come someone is limping or why someone else can’t get up from their chair. <br />I should have known I was trying to avoid old age when I took up with that man 20 years younger. That did me no good…especially when he didn’t want to walk in a room with me. Well, men do it all the time, it is still not acceptable in women …COUGAR TOWN or not.<br />I’m seventy and I still haven’t lost the desire to make love to a man that I adore and I still miss that one man and it has been over 2 years now. He kept me laughing, on my toes and looking good, but I did need this job in S.F. I didn’t think it was fair to him to be with someone as old as I am. And there was a small problem of him running out of money. He says he hasn’t found anyone else, but I wonder. I’ve had a couple of married men want to give me a sliver of their pie, but I don’t want that. There might have been a time I was willing, but not now.<br />Men my age, if they have money, are looking for women at least 40 years young. If they are broke, they are like me…looking depressed and not even on the prowl. That leaves the illegal men and we mostly don’t speak the same language. For the most part, their women are in Mexico, South America or China. They might have a job…I had one man come and open his wallet right in front of me …actually showed me he had money. Of course a man who really had money would never do anything like that. <br />I am just throwing this problem out to the world. THE PROBLEM OF GETTING OLD. Maybe someone has found a way to deal with this problem. I see happy older people out there. I think they are the ones who have mates. I see some laughing, joking...probably been drinking. I sometimes think…would I want to undress this falling apart body… in front of someone new, and I look good for my age. I wouldn’t even go see Cher. trying to look 20 year younger than she is. I don’t like that look. I want the happy, laughing contented look …satisfied like maybe she just got a little that morning. Help Anyone? Therapy Anyone?<br />I have a little exta problem and that’s having been Charles Bukowski’s girlfriend years ago. Writer or poets who admire him think…she would never go with me after him. True he was a damn good writer…but he’s dead. Other who have seen him think….Charles Burkowski’s, that man’s, ..not his discards. Wait a minute… it me who left him. …If she would go with a man that ugly there must be something wrong with her. And if they have read Bukowski…forget it. They’ve read about me.<br />The illegals don’t know who in the hell he is or can‘t read…thank God. I could go out a look in a bar or a dance place…but hell…I’m shot for today.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-48684401496679249912010-12-09T11:19:00.000-08:002010-12-09T11:25:30.819-08:00VOOMAN’S VOICE<br /><br /> I have dragged myself out of my bed to face the world…to find my voice. I am Vooman and I do have a voice. I think I crawled under the cover never to come out because I can’t face this fighting world, a war on every front with people sleeping in the street and not getting enough to eat all over this freaking planet. Flood, fires, famine, bombs, fighting, murder are a weekly happenings. Somewhere deep inside you feel like you should do something about some of this despair, but know your are in no position to do anything. Hardly in a position to take care of yourself let alone help anyone else. <br /> Not to understand, but wondering if there is any intelligent master over all this, I opened the Jewish Old Testament. And read war after war after war. It only made me realize how long this has been going on and how little chance there is that it will stop. Those bad boys back then were going out and slaughtering thousands and thousand in one day. God had no shame about marching these thousands and thousand of Jews into other people lands and towns and just taking over. No wimps in those days. David slaughtered thousands and Solomon slaughtered tens of thousands. Our little drones that only kill 15 or 20 people is nothing.<br /> I really need to go back to comedy. I have become too serious. The Revolutionary Poets Brigade that I have joined is too serious for me. Too many problems on every front. And my 32 year old son can’t get a job. The jobs are in China, India or the Philippines. If I don’t post any blogs is because I am afraid I cannot said anything intelligent, funny, interest or of good report. Okay, I admit I don’t have the answers. I am getting one day older every day. There is no turning it back. My face is getting more wrinkles and I laugh a whole lot less. Give me a break. I think I should stop watching CNN. But I am addicted to what is going on. I need to know. Maybe this is something like heroin you need to go through withdrawal to get off news addiction.<br /> I need to go to a withdrawal camp where you are not allow to get a fix of bad new for weeks at a time. Maybe I should start one. I have no pep or energy to pop this stuffy bubble I am in and have been in for weeks. Give me a break. Just give me a break. Let me get back to some fun, if there is fun still in the world.<br /><br /><br />CALIFORNIA ONLY 23 BILLION DOLLARS IN DEBT<br /><br />How is it that California is limping along 23 billion dollar in debt. Everything seems to be running somewhat the same as always. There are still Policemen, firemen, schools, the tram is on the track. How can this be? Maybe the idea of money is only relative, maybe it is not real. Maybe 23 billion dollar doesn’t mean 23 billion dollars. When my money runs out, I can’t buy food, gas or pay the rent. What is this debt that shadows our lives. This is not suppose to be part of the American dream. America is suppose to get richer, live bigger and better in their pursuit for happiness. Is the 23 billions just part of our happiness…spend, spend, spend? Can we borrow more? Since we have the most artillery maybe other country are afraid not to loan us their money. It seems to me that the English had a better idea, they just conquered and took what they wanted. I have never seen so many treasures as those in Buckingham Palace. In the Bible, when you conquer you take the spoils. It is expected of the winner. When Americans win, they give, give, give to build back what they have destroyed. This is a crazy kind of war. We try to be the nice helpful guy and conquer at the same time. It is impossible to do both. The spoils of war used to go to the winner. Is this why we never win? We could conquer and make these places another part of USA, our land ….our oil. Who found the oil, who drilled for it, who built the processing plants?<br />With our country not paying back it’s debts, the states not paying back their debts, how come we the people need to pay our debts. These debts are certainly not happiness. I have not read one article of anybody who has any solution to this vast American problem. I don’t really expect anyone to come up with a way to allow anyone to spend more than they earn. The Government could take care of the lazy, the fat, the addicted, the crazy, the poor, the unemployed…if they weren’t trillions of dollar in debt. How was it that Bill Clinton actually brought down the national debt?? Maybe, I ,like everyone else, should go along with this fantasy…maybe it is like a Disney movie, it will all end up happy ever after in the end.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-17857564110224564502010-05-22T14:00:00.000-07:002010-05-22T15:32:53.667-07:00LOST IN A KALEIDOSCOPEThursday night I was the feature reading at ANGER MANAGEMENT, a poetry reading at THE KALEIDOSCOPE. I realized, before we left my driver was drinking more than he should have been. I ask my driver to let me drive. I couldn't fire my driver as he was carrying the video camera that was going to record my performance. I tryed not to say much as I knew my driver had had a bad day. He had a conflict with the thief who is trying to steal his $100,000 movie. That could drive anyone to drink and possibly even out of their mind after working on this movie project for the last five years. He told me earlier that he was ready to move on...MOVE ON...ON,ON,ON!!! <br />We had a terrible time finding parking, but we finally found a spot. I gathered my poems and hurriedly made it to The Kaleidoscope, which was a full house. I was the first reader after the band played a few numbers. My driver headed to the bar for more to drink. He was the only one in the place talking loudly through the music. I tried to catch his eyes, but by then he had the attention of a beautiful brunette with long legs. <br />The band played their own music, which I thought was funny and original. The two singers were comic and good singers. <br />I was the first reader and had picked out what I thought was my best anger poems. I did alright until I got to the one I had just written earlier that day and I didn't have it under my belt yet and kind of stumbled and read it badly. They had told me 15 minutes and I had to cut it to 10 when I got there. There are many poets in San Francisco just waiting to read. I said, I had found it a little hard coming from Phoenix where there was a drought of poetry to San Francisco where that was a flood of poetry. I got some laughs and some claps. I was happy.<br />The poetry reading went on and Jessica read and she does performance poetry. I thought she did very well. Most of the poets only read one poem, but my driver,S. D., was getting restless. Poetry sometimes seem to get him a bit uinhinged. He feels like he is getting peppered by words like tiny bullets. He can't take too much, too long, especially when he had had to much to drink. Maybe he has not been subject to the written word long enough. His own words would probably entertain him more. <br />I agreed to leave at the half, even though I didn't really wanted to. I wanted to make a night of it...as long as I was there and I was the feature reader, but, I had had one other bad night with this same driver when he had too much to drink. I didn't want a scene.<br />We went out to our car, which I was sure we had parked on Mission between 24th Street and 23rd. The car was not there. We went looking for the car on other streets for the next two hours. My driver blaming me and I blaming him, as he was too blind in his state to see where we were. As it was close to midnight the vultures of the night started circling. When he was off on another street looking, I called and I begged him to come back to where I was as I was getting a little nervous with all of these circling vultures. Finally, we decided to go back to the Kaleidoscope and we, by luck, caught the anger manager on the way to his car. He gave us a ride back to my daughter house where we called the cops and waited another hour or two for the cops to come for a stolen car report. I had already called to find out if it had been towed. It had not. <br />The next day, after driving my grandkids to school, I stayed in bed for twenty-four hours, with my head covered, because I knew I had already caused my daughter countless tickets, towing fees and other San Francisco craziness and now I had lost her car altogether. I didn't have good dreams. God, I didn't want to get up again.<br />She came home from her trip across the big pond and for some reason her and her husband went down and started cruising around The Kaleodoscope. Somehow, they found their car on a different street South Van Ness between 23 and 24th Street.vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-54761558054133597822010-03-13T19:48:00.000-08:002010-03-13T19:59:03.975-08:00Irene's StoreSorry, I didn't realize this poem for Hertige Women's Book<br />was not finished. This is the final version. I hope.<br />I make many mistakes, grammer, spelling, punuation, etc. I<br />need to fix. This should give the worst writer in the world<br />courage. L.<br /><br />IRENE’S STORE<br /><br />In the town of Boulder, Utah<br />My mom, Irene, for awhile, had<br />The only store for thirty miles around<br />She had everything in that store<br />That you could think of <br />Groceries, blocks of taste cheese<br />Levies, cowboy boots<br />Lasso rope by the foot<br />Cattle vaccine, pocket knives<br />Sweet’s candy and cookies<br />Bread brought by the mail truck<br />You could get gasoline by<br />Pumping up five gallons by hand<br />Then shooting it down to your tank<br />You could even get a tire<br />Fixed at Irene’s store<br />Or darn good instructions<br />On how to do it yourself<br />You had to break it down<br />By running a car next to the rim<br /><br />Mama liked to have fun<br />And you could always hear her<br />Musical laughter ringing out<br />High above everyone else<br />I think mama’s laughter just<br />Made people feel good<br />And that’s why so many people<br />Stopped by to visit so often<br />From all over the place<br />Daddy tried to get Mama to<br />Take the doorbell off the store<br />So we could have one meal<br />Without someone coming to the store<br />But she never did and “Ding dong.”<br />Somebody always had to <br />Jump up and run, usually her<br /><br />Mama was the first mayor of Boulder<br />So we talked a lot about the town<br />She helped get the first water system in<br />And we stopped scooping mice<br />Out of that old cement cistern<br />She talked Dad into giving the town<br />The spring from the upper ranch <br />For great tasting drinking water<br />That needed no chemicals<br />It’s still the greatest tasting <br />Water in southern Utah <br /><br />Mama became the first president<br />Of the Utah Cowbell association<br />And even helped think up that name<br />She got bored with the Cowboys<br />Having all the conventions and talk<br />The Cowbells put out a beef cookbook<br />With some of my mama’s tasty recipes<br />Including Hunter’s Delight,…yummy. <br /><br />The store was where<br />We helped Mama put together<br />Case machinery just outside the door<br />That she sold to the ranchers<br />Where we had to help Daddy<br />Put in a new motor in his cattle truck<br />Where she taught men how to<br />Sling gas barrels off a truck the right way<br />You had to roll and move the weight<br />Where we had to lock the door<br />To run and help the young heifers<br />Next to the store in the catchall<br />Have their first oversized calves<br />She had me run back to the store<br />For these great big sulfa tablets<br />While she held the cows uterus<br />Then she stuffed it and the pill<br />Back inside clear up to her elbow<br />Then she cussed Daddy for <br />Buying that great big Herford bull<br />The cows lived and word got out<br />The store was where the dog ran in with<br />Hundreds of porky pine quills in his nose<br />That we had to extract with pliers<br />Where, Daddy drank up all the Shillings vanilla <br />Stuck out his chin and challenged her<br />“I know you’re mad…hit me right there.”<br />Mama knocked him right off the porch<br />Where he lay flat on his back<br />While his buddies laughed<br />I thought he might get up and kill her<br />The store was the only place to be<br />When Daddy and his buddies <br />Were passed out all over the house<br /><br />But best of all were those<br />Two tables filled with arrowhead<br />Where you could sit with a cold coke<br />Or a beer and talk about everything<br />We five girls were Mama’s helpers<br />Especially when she drove off<br />To show tourists the back country<br />Or went to Richfield for freight<br />We were often there starting<br />Or getting in on wild conversations<br />There were more things discussed<br />In that store than anyplace in town<br />Maybe in all of Southern Utah,including church<br />In that store we could discuss anything<br />With many a sweaty cowboy over from<br />The round up at the Government corral<br />Needing cold refreshments or lunch<br />We’d be quiet when Daddy came in<br />To guzzle straight down one small cokes<br />Then reach for another, real coke in those days <br />But I remember Daddy cussing a lot<br />About all the stupid talk going on<br /><br />What chance did we five girls have<br />Growing up in a store like that<br />Everybody coming by to see us<br />Everybody talking about everything<br />Some adventure always going on<br />Always meeting somebody new<br />Teasing, joking, flirting having fun<br />Doing flips, walking on my hand<br />Getting ready for the dances<br />I think two of my sister even<br />Found husbands in that store<br />I know some of us are still<br />The biggest talkers around<br />Hoping to spread a few new ideas<br />Still looking for new skills or new truths<br />Fighting causes, or discussing things that should<br />…or maybe shouldn’t be talked about<br />And laughing all the time just like Mama<br />And still wanting to have that fun<br />We became fearless just like her<br />She let me climb the highest ledges<br />My other sister chased wild steers<br />Another one nursed sick people and animals<br />Right in that little store, just like Mama<br />My older sister launched forbidden subjects<br />We could debate with the best of them<br />And doing it still, when we get a chance<br />But I wonder about those “hot rocks”<br />That those uranium hunters brought in<br />That Mama used to let us handle<br />And test with her Geiger counter<br />Maybe that’s what wrong with my hand right now<br /><br />I can’t really blame Mama for how I turned out<br />Restless, curious, seeking, adventurous. gambling<br />Looking for a cause, a party or laugher<br />Always wanting something wild and crazy<br /> Just being raised in Irene’s Store <br /> …Linda King 2/18/2010vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-8827214194895351912010-03-05T18:56:00.000-08:002010-03-06T17:19:13.843-08:00GROUP THERAPY ON LINEI miss my group therapy in Phoenix and since it was free, paid for by the gambling Casinos who had to agree to this in order to set up their Indian Tribes Casinos in Phoenix. They knew they were going to make a lot more money than therapy costs...and it costs a lot. I blamed my gambling on them just to give therapy a try. They didn't know I started gambling clear back in the 70's when Bukowski and I used to head for the track. There is nothing like a horse running down the track to the finish line to make your forget the miseries in the world. I was the only "action" gambler. The other girls just sit with a one armed bandit and got robbed. Our therapist said action gamblers are the hardest to cure. They just need that action. If I wasn't so old maybe I could convert the action to running or skiing or something else to get my adrenalin rush. I would have been alright it they hadn't opened off-track betting right next to my house.<br /><br />My therapist didn't say much, just listened. In fact, I was getting tired of driving all the way to Scottsdale just to entertain her with my stories. The Indians didn't pay for my gas. I often went from therapy to catch a couple of races. She knew and I knew I was never going to stop going to "off-track" two blocks from my house. She encourage me to go to San Francisco...someplace she has always wanted to live. She loved my poetry...Here I am. It's hard to believe I been here almost a year. <br />I didn't loose my house over just gambling. I guess it started when I wanted to see Europe after a free trip to a Bukowski eventin Germany. The money came out of the house. After the first "refi" it was easy. Kind of like sex. You want to do it again. Especially when they are telling you your house is worth ten times what you paid for it. It's like betting on the big six. It was a gamble. I saw Paris, Amsterdam and England. And then all of America went crazy. I knew the stock market gang was nothing but a bunch of gamblers...it takes one to know one. In their scheming mind they figured out just where some untouched money was...ah ha...it's in hard working retirement accounts. They really worked at converting those accounts to their gambling operations. Who has the money now?? A lot of IRAs are still going that way.<br /><br />Maybe it not really the group therapy I miss, maybe I just wanted to tell those sad faced slot players I made it to San Francisco...maybe half transplanted...even though just yesterday, after a family upset, I had to fight with my steering wheel so it wouldn't drive to Golden Gate Fields...where, on Sunday, the hot dogs, beer and parking is only a dollar. <br />Now, I don't think it's just me, but everyone in the world needs a little group therapy and I might as well start it right here on VOOMAN'S VOICE. This last year has been rough, what with my numb hands, losing my home and hearth, my dogs, my lover, my dignity, my credit, almost my sanity...but it is all in your mind set. I made these hands do one more sculpture and it's a beauty.. Jack Hirschman. But I fell into a hole after it was done. Maybe I am afraid one of these sculptures is going to be my last. With all the rain, the sculpture started growing mold instead of drying. I thought for a time in was my own head growing mold. It's starting to dry now. I feel better...but all these earthquakes and people in so much misery has not made me happy. I dream last night that a giant wave had me and these houses right in front of the zoo tumbling out to sea. With my dream is could come true or just be my tumbling fears. I can't stop myself from finding out what is going on it the world. Let's face it the world sucks, America suck, our government sucks, the weather sucks "Humanity you never had it from the beginning"...as Bukowski said it.<br /> <br />The other night I fell into the lips of a man. It was easy and good is good, other than, I know it's the wrong man...but maybe their never was a right man or never can be a right man. Maybe that is one of the fantasies that we like to believe. Maybe marriage is a false institution that millions of people are captured in like prison when they are really wanting someone else, or sometwo or somethree else. Maybe my singleness is primo and I don't know it. <br />If anyone would like to join Vooman's Voice Group Therapy...men are welcome, I would be happy for all intelligent, wise or humorous voices that might make me believe there is still hope, happiness and humor out there...jump in and say your say. Scream your scream. Let us commiserate together. If you have a blog...a blogspot address. How can I go on living a blogless life. My sister, who is a mathathon blogger, is outrunning me everyday. My muscles are limp. Help!!! HELP!!!vooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352951606436296261.post-53413084937607997622010-02-19T13:36:00.000-08:002010-03-08T11:47:28.795-08:00Woman's poems.....<br />IRENE’S STORE<br />For awhile, my mom, Irene<br />Owned the only store<br />In the town of Boulder, Utah<br />She had everything in that store<br />That you could think of<br />Groceries, blocks of taste cheese<br />Levies, cowboy boots<br />Lasso rope by the foot<br />Cattle vaccine, pocket knives<br />Sweet’s candy and cookies<br />And bread brought by<br />The mail truck<br />You could get gas<br />By pumping up five gallons by hand<br />Then shooting it down to your tank<br />You could even get a tire<br />Fixed at Irene’s store<br />Or darn good instructions<br />On how to do it yourself<br />But best of all were those<br />Two tables filled with arrowhead<br />Where you could sit with a cold coke<br />Or a beer and talk about everything<br />We five girls, mama’s helpers<br />Were often there starting<br />Or getting in on wild conversations<br /><br />There were more things discussed<br />In that store than anyplace in town<br />…maybe in southern Utah, including church<br />In that store we could discuss anything<br />I remember Daddy cussing a lot<br />About all the talk going on<br />Mama liked to have fun<br />And you could always hear her<br />Musical laughter ringing out<br />High above everyone else<br />I think mama’s laughter just<br />Made people feel good<br />And that’s why so many people<br />Stopped by so often<br />Daddy tried to get Mama to<br />Take the doorbell off the store<br />So we could have one meal<br />Without someone coming to the store<br />But she never did and “Ding dong.”<br />Somebody always had to<br />Jump up and run, usually her<br /><br />Mama was the first mayor of Boulder<br />So we talked a lot about the town<br />She helped get the first water system in<br />And we stopped scooping mice<br />Out of that old cement cistern<br />She talked Dad into giving<br />The spring from the upper ranch<br />For great tasting drinking water<br />That needed no chemicals<br />It’s still the greatest tasting<br />Water in Southern Utah<br /><br />Mama became the first<br />President of the Utah Cowbelle’s<br />And even helped think up that name<br />She got bored with the Cowboys<br />Having all the conventions and talk<br />And I remember that first<br />Worn out Cowbelle Beef Cookbook<br />That had some of my mom’s tasty recipes<br />Including Hunter’s Delight<br /><br />What chance did we five girls have<br />Growing up in a store like that<br />Everybody coming by to see us<br />Everybody talking about everything<br />Some adventure always going on<br />Always meeting somebody new<br />Teasing, joking, flirting having fun<br />I know some of us are still<br />The biggest talkers around<br />Hoping to spread a few new ideas<br />Still looking for new skills or new truths<br />Discussing things that should<br />…or maybe, shouldn’t be talked about<br />And laughing all the time just like Mama<br />We became fearless just like her<br />She let me climb the highest ledges<br />My other sister chased wild steers<br />Another nursed sick people and animals<br />Right in that little store, just like Mama<br />My older sister launch forbidden subjects<br />We could debate with the best of them<br />We still like to have that fun<br />and doing it when we get a chance<br />Having those three day marathon talks<br />them most folks can't stand<br />But I still wonder about those “hot rocks”<br />That those uranium hunters brought in<br />That Mama used let us tests<br />With her Geiger counter<br />I can’t really blame Mama<br />For how I turned out<br />Restless, curious, seeking, adventurous<br />Looking for a cause, a party or a laugh<br />Some have said, "Wild and crazy."<br />….Just being raised in Irene’s Store<br />…Linda King 2/18/2010<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />DEAR MAMA<br />Hello dear, dear mama<br />How old you are, dear mama<br />How very, very old<br />You eat, you sleep, you wait<br />You wait for your<br />Return to the other world<br />You wait to return to<br />When you were young<br />And beautiful<br />And danced<br />The night away in<br />The arms of love<br />Dear Mama<br />Since you can never answer<br />It sometimes seems<br />As if you have already gone<br />Anyway in your mind<br />You are already there<br />Dancing away in some<br />Beautiful ballroom<br />And the next dancer<br />Is waiting<br />And watching you<br />Wanting their next dance<br />You, so lively<br />You, such a good dancer<br />You, with that beautiful laughter<br />Ringing like chimes<br />Over the top of the music<br /><br />Can you remember<br />When the time comes<br />To dance away<br />From tired bones<br />And tired flesh<br />And a tired mind<br />That no longer obeys<br />Your command<br />Dear Mama<br />Dear, dear Mama<br />I thought of you tonight<br />Lonesome in your room<br />I thought of you this morning<br />And the delicious fluffy<br />Biscuits you used to<br />Make for breakfast<br />I thought of you when<br />I took a shower<br />And saw the rail<br />You used to hold on to<br />And I thought that<br />Someday I, too, would be old<br />My knees and joints<br />Refusing to hold me up<br />And I wished I had<br />My Mama for company<br />To kick around the house<br />To laugh or even argue with<br />And I grieved that I could not<br />Bring you home again<br />Dear, dear, dear Mama<br /> Love,<br /> …Linda 10/22/2000<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />THE UNSUNG WOMEN OF THE WEST<br /><br />We’re the unsung women who came out West<br />We built our towns and made our nest<br />We had ten kids, we birthed in pain<br />Without a doctor or going insane<br />We got up early, he was still in bed<br />Started the fires and made the bread<br />We milked the cow, we fed the cat<br />Slopped the hogs to make them fat<br />We mopped the floors and cooked the food<br />And then we prayed to set the mood<br />We churned the butter and made cottage cheese<br />Picked he berries and shelled he peas<br />We grubbed the sage, we chopped the weeds<br />We hoed the garden and sowed the seeds<br />We squashed the bugs, we killed the weevil<br />We fought the blight and other evil<br />We dug the carrots and picked the ‘maters.<br />Shucked the corn and dug the ‘taters<br />We picked the fruit, we bottled the jam<br />We pickled the beets and cured the ham<br />We burned the trash and grubbed the thistle<br />Picked up the yard clean as a whistle<br />We planted the trees, shrubs and roses<br />Then bathed the kids and wiped their noses<br />We raised the chicken and cleaned the coop<br />Chopped off their head to made the soup<br />We made the quilts, wove the rugs<br />Knitted socks and passed out hugs<br />We sewed the clothes and crocheted lace<br />At the county fair we took first place<br />We shot the deer and dried the jerky<br />Baked pumpkin pie to go with turkey<br />The dogs we raised all knew “sig’em”<br />When they bit someone we had to lick’em<br />Into the barn we brought in hay<br />Stacked it high without no pay<br />We rode for cattle with our pack mule<br />We brand the calves and tagged the bull<br />We watered the fields and built sod dams<br />We nursed those doggie calves and lambs<br />We dressed as ladies with hats and curls<br />Charmed the men and giggled like girls<br />We talked in church and then, by gosh,<br />On top of that was the waterboss<br />We ran for office, helped the poor<br />Collected the funds from door to door<br />We taught the kids, went over their lessons<br />Took them to church to receive their blessings<br />We raised our kids to do what’s right<br />We made them share, we stopped he fights<br />We gave Grandpa a helping hand<br />Put him to bed when he could hardly strand<br />We helped birth babies, calmed the fears<br />Laid out the dead and dried the tears<br />For hired men we cleaned and cooked<br />Then at night we read a book<br />We filled the cellar to last all winter<br />Brought it up to serve for dinner<br />We curried the horses, trained the dog<br />We bucketed the coal and brought in logs<br />When it came spring, things went outside<br />We cleaned the windows, walls and hides<br />We papered our walls, moved the toilet<br />When something didn’t work, then we’d oil it<br />To do our wash we made soap from lie<br />We scrubbed, blued, wrung, then hug to dry<br />We wrangled our cowboy who wanted to play<br />Danced all night then worked all day<br />There’s almost nothing we can’t do<br />Inside, outside…night time too<br />As women go we are the best<br />The unsung women who built the west<br /> By Ann Reynolds and Linda King…Sistersvooman's voicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04848977622017508381noreply@blogger.com6