SOUND OF SIRENS…(Sung to the tune of The Sound of Silence)

Hello, bank vault my old friend.

I’ve come to tumble you – again.

Because my wife spent all of my mon-ey.

And I need to get some more – you see.

But I’m old,

And my fingers ache much more

Than before.

Is that the sound – of sirens?

**************

Man, Silhouette, Businessman, Escape

In this darkened bank I roam.

I need to get out and go home.

Running down the hall towards the back door.

I need to get out just a moment more.

When my eyes were stabbed by the flashing of blue cop lights.

No, this ain’t right.

Yes, that’s the sound – of sirens.

****************

And in the darkened hall I saw.

Dancing shadows on the wall.

Then a bullhorn said that I should freeze.

Quickly, I fell down upon my knees.

And I crawled – hoping I could make my way…

Another day.

Away from sounds – of sirens.

***************

Chastising me I crawled along.

Straight into the men’s bathroom.

Where I made it back into the hole.

I dug out many, many days before.

And I fell all the way into my tunnel underground.

That’s where I found.

No more sounds – of sirens.

******************

Now, I’m gonna get away.

With the plunder from my raid.

While the cops are ah-all looking.

For me, but I am back home cooking.

*******************

And the captain of police is pacing,

And really mad…

And, oh so sad.

Amid the sound of sirens.

******************

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DING-DING

That psychedelic

Funky relic

That I tripped over

On the way to school

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Made me stumble

And fall

Doing a somersault

And I broke my flipflops too

***************

Why didn’t I see

There in front of me

That colorful

Awkward thing

***************

Because, I was on my phone

Just a texting along

Instead of watching ahead

Ding-ding

Z is for, well, Z…#AtoZChallenge2019

Image result for cursive z
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Z was the last of them.  The final bastion of the 26 generations of The Letterites of Wordzea, a world with dwindling resources.  Now is the dawning of a new cohort called The Hafazians.  Theirs is a language that could not be functionalized and understood by the Letterites. 

The final battle will be short-lived, as those who have strived for proper verbiage and grammatically correct dialogue will be far outnumbered by the abbreviated and misspelled denizens of this next generation.

Like his cousins before him, The Cursivietes, Z will be left to stand alone in the final days.  In the end… Z will reflect on Y.

The End

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