When the Fuss Turns to a Hum

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"Oh what I would do to die today," is a simple saying;

A tongue twister for some, and a mind-bender for others.

           Obituaries say it kindly,

           Pianos play it softly,

           And mouths say it in a low whisper, but soon after, all the fuss turns to hum.

It's hummed for those who screamed,

And it's hummed for those who felt discarded--dismantled and dismembered.

It happens by blood and by heart,

But when the fuss turns to hum,

                         Because it always does and always will,

Shift the pieces of the puzzle.

Turn the tables,

   Turn them quick: twisted, tangled, mangled and swept into the dust of a cocoon.

Wrapped or warped, I cannot say..

But remember: be malleable and be tender to the touch.

Because the touch of stranger doesn’t feel like much,

But when it casts a friendly shadow upon the day you are done,

It'll stretch you silly and stretch you fun.

 

The strings of life are stretched from above,

                                                                      look softly.

Mind them, and mind them once more.

Hold hands with memory,

And tell her how you care because time is stacked tall on top of itself,

And to care is genuine and true.

It starts in the lowest of places: the decent mind of a mellow man.

The bud of a beautiful smile is the choice of chance,

And a chance of luck to endure. So hold the hand of memory; sink into her roots.

Introduce yourself, and hope for a next time round.

 

Take death for a stroll one day to escape the malice of time.

The butler of hell will share a kind, “Hello”, and make home of it.

Waltz with the second hand,

Tick-tock to the lullaby of dismay.

The aches are muffled here, like cotton swabs soaked in water.

Stretch them and wring them dry;

Play with this time for two.

You’ll always want the calling,

And it will never go away.

                    To care is to have and to hold and cherish

                    When the lullaby goes astray.

                    When the last candle lightly flickers,

                    And when the knats fly into your mouth,

                    When it’s on the tip of your tongue,

                    And when you’ve forgotten a thought you once held close.

When the fuss turns to hum, turn the table and break the branch,

For what's to come is worth more than time.

                                                   What would you do to die today? Simply care for the things you love.

Poetry Slam: 

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