speaking of tongues

you don't have to be so scared to share what's inside, 'cause you're daddy's little superstar, and you're mama's little butterfly, fly high, a strange strange litany of verses and reverses, adlibs and rehearses, clouds burst and words cursed, an argument breaks out, it's one we've all heard before, it's boring, had us all snoring from the first line, one after another chimed in perfect time, tired rehashes of petty cashes and mismatches, you shoulda coulda's, and "why didn't 'tcha dida's", crippling snippets aimed at the heart, to inflame and impart blame, framed like mumia, verbal diarrhoea, creating chasms between the souls of two, or two billion, nations torn apart, station to station damnation, with much deliberation and very little consideration, to the return on the damage from the altercation, collateral condemnation, then denyin' like colorization of an old black and white, create a revision of the recent last night, the fight that started with two words, "i'm right", you don't have to be so scared to share what's inside, 'cause you're daddy's little superstar, and you're mama's little butterfly, fly high, but of course the fight ends with no resolution, merely a vow for retribution, substitution, execution, electrocution, ruthless, toothless and truthless, mumbling through page after page of excuses, abuses of the gift of the gab, gabriel the trumpeter, bestowed upon us a voice with a choice, and a tongue kept moist by years of salivating, for oysters. pearls and aphrodisiacs, locked in an ugly shell always too chewy and gooey, so they get swallowed whole, but a tongue is so much more than a vehicle for greed, a tongue is for washing fur, or for licking wounds, or for welcoming newcomers into a room, or cleansing those fresh from the womb, without a tongue there would be no croons, swoons, junes under the moon, no bees pollinating no flowers in bloom, no recitation of words at the foot of a tomb, or wills read aloud of the family heirlooms, you probably couldn't even blow up a balloon, and that would be a shame, because to exhales the name of the game, exhale from the heart, not from the lungs, exhale from the heart, not from the tongue, listening is understanding, and finding compassion, love is the action of soul satisfaction, a tongue can make wishes and also fine kisses, taste a sweet cake and also cast disses, but nothing compares to the voice from within, without it we might just be mannequins, up to no darn good shenanigans, learn to be skilful movers of the stones, that block the heart and turn humans to clones, learn to forgive, set free the bones, touch with your flesh, take off the rubber gloves, love like your life depends on it, because it does,