Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
A humming sound, though almost still.
Something he'd never heard before.
The likes of it! Oohm, oohm, and scary,
he could not find it in his mind,
his comfort yielding to frustration,
when so far up the old shit creek,
once dunked, twice dripping, also smarting
from nagging curiosity.
And inner voices aim to badger.
Oh yes, the hubby mantis lusted,
then only said, 'What the....', no less,
when finely chiseled hands proceeded
to tear his handsome head clear off.
The rest was blatant mystery,
though not to him because of timing
and public utter headlessness.
So, is this the ideal weapon,
sophisticated warfare tool,
and activism driving waves
of sound that can't be recognised,
yet hums persistently in dissonance.
Humming is best, as frank pulsations
would signal familiarity.
How often, after all, does one
encounter Nature's hummingbird?
And when it happens, ooohm, ooohm, ooohm,
well, what the heck, what do you know?
So you start looking, hoping, praying,
for perfect versions, yours at last.
You muster patience, stick around
'til someone quickly tears yours off.
And afterward, some sordid creature
will likely have their way with you.
Until that time, however, know
it's still your game of heads or tails.
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