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The Nocturnal Hymn

FLASH FICTION POETRY

The Nocturnal Hymn

Photo by Djim Loic on Unsplash

The sun is down,

The night is young;

Waken up, it’s time to rise,

For time won’t ever suffice.

Them artless day-dwellers —

Dive into their homes,

And they shan’t smell a rat.

Oh, but their little ones will.

So — creep and creep;

Disturb a toy on the floor,

And break the silence;

Make us rats on a sinking ship.

Gimme the lock pick,

And some time —

And lo we’re in.

Oh the treasures of Solomon!

Pick by the handful,

And the mouthful;

Fill in as you go —

Eatable or not.

Who’s Midas,

When ev’rythin’ is Gold!

Junk or not, fellas,

Ev’rythin’ sells!

Tell ’em a good story,

And you have the money.

They can keep the junk,

But who cares?!

The more you pick,

The more you sell;

Always the chance

Of a decent payday.

No worries, fellas,

It’s ne’er the same face twice;

A new place ev’ryday

Keeps the cop away!

So pick pick pick;

Pick by the handful

And the mouthful.

Fill in as you go.

It’s ne’er the same house twice —

Be it night or be it day;

The nights in strange homes

And the days in homeless shelters.

Fellas, the sun’s up;

The night is done.

Hush, hush like ’em mice;

Darn time won’t ever suffice.


The Nocturnal Hymn was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

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