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It was one of those mornings, the cold winter air cutting through the silence of the apartment. Cars murmuring in the background, and warm dark coffee making our bellies warm and relaxed. It was time for a cigarette one exclaimed, another shouted " But the fools of cursing cancerous consumption accept your death now. All fell silent blankly staring wondering who will share thoughts next, a burst of laughter was heard in the other room facing the north east. A cute playful women of 34 and 1/4 runs in sharing her new found excitement of such ridiculous poems she has constructed.
                                            " ooh how the dark moon shined,
                                               indeed the lust has become full during my binge of wine
                                               desiring a man of 25
                                               he has been on my mind
                                               to use and Ploy as an intimate *** toy"
she screeched in laughter, the majority of the room was rather confused and yet excited by her "hilarious" Poem. She then pardoned her self and jolted out of the room in some sensationable creative lust.
All was calm and still, the Large old Victorian ceilings resonated the vibrations of silence. They  stood examining each other, forgetting the purpose of their presence.
"Pardon me" a tall slender man of 26 and 1/3,he wore  a tailored suit with a warm and welcoming smile. His words broke the quiet gazes among the  silent crew,All stared at him confused by his need of verbal communication, he was the only sober one of the 15 maybe 20 people who entered and exited the warm apartment with gleaming pleasure and bliss.
 Nov 2013 Agent Kingpin
Tommy K
Words are all muddled
Translation lost over time
Does anyone really understand?
That no words, are easy to find.
Books are misunderstood
From different parts of the earth
It's like reading jibberish
Our words are now under a curse.
How can we understand anything?
After the Tower Of Babel
Languages are mixed and corrupted
So the original words went to hell.
Not perfect in speaking
As it's lost, and gone
Words do not mean the same
We are saying it all wrong.
How can we communicate?
Nothing makes sense
We are like different birds
Sitting on a fence.
With no understanding
Of each other, or anyone
Words are just nothing
Because everyone is so dumb.
Pleonasm is too long
No-one can explain
It's all out of date
So new words are insane.
Plenitude is non-existed
You are sashay
But no-one is like that
So we see the end of days.
When the final word has been spoken
Will anyone understand?
The end is near for all of us
We are all under God's hand.

(c) Tommy K
4/11/2013
Pitch Black

Total darkness enters the night,
no more moon or sun shinning bright.
Shadows looming overhead,
welcome to the land of the dead.
This isn't heaven, isn't hell.
but this is a place, you will soon know well.
Feeling alone and out of place,
memories of living will slowly erase.
Eyes turn black, body gets pale,
feeling blind and can't read braille.
Millions of others walking around,
can't see them, but can hear the sound.
All the souls have long escaped,
curtains of life have now draped.
Not knowing how long this will last,
don't know the future, can't remember the past.
No one to help along the way,
even if there was, what would they say.
Tough to live in the land of the lost,
everyone is getting their salad tossed.
Judgement day has finally come,
suddenly body is turning numb.
Ten long years living in darkness,
no more fear and being heartless.
Now that this has become to an end,
body now on a rapid descend.
Now in a place filled with fire,
this is the place where all bodies retire.
ebbing tides
muted shadows sketched in sand
a sculpted archive of footprints and wind
crashing ocean’s hypnotic slow motion
rolling onto the beach
rushing white froth washing forth and back
renewing the smoothness with salty scrubbing bubbles
the setting full moon shines bright
projecting her power’s peak
reflecting horizontal streaks of crackling blue electricity
rippling and running
riding atop the cresting waves
pounding surf as conduit
completing the circuit on shore
empowering the Ancients' resurrection
in the rising midnight mists
mirage-like vaporous images charge
clearly visible beneath her sweeping silvery veil
buckskin **** cloths, eagle claws and feathers
indigenous people stepping rhythmically in a circle
feint sounds of chanting and a drum-like heart beat
a dance for the ages
seeking favor and protection
rituals and ceremonies
keeping the wolves at bay
celebrating the crows’ return
or a bountiful harvest
as they have for millennia
when the moon falls over earth’s edge
the dancers dissipate
retreating like sand *****
awaiting the next full moon.
© 10/26/13

— The End —