Orange 4 squared room,
Purring of Cat
a Dripping White Spoon
Is this a Yellowing Moon
Floating Upon oceans
With it's Glowing  Swoon

Dashing Ones Palette
with Grape Fruit Juice
Bitterly sweet
Like raptures beneath Moon
forcing ones cerebral Ecstasy
To begin begging for
Beginners Tune

The ocean Now a Purring white satin
Basque in beauty
Rotating its symmetrical fashion.

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.

We sat around the 4 story complex, sipping tea and rolling joints. The wind was cold but it couldn't compete with the warmth that filled our hearts and souls. I enjoyed our quiet exchange it was pure and simple beauty. The understanding of our greater expectations of each other was silent but well soaked in the cold dew that dripped moisture down our noses.
It was almost to special to ask for a word, or even a breath of air. Our eyes glazed and occupied by the spiraling dance of human silence, never before have we reached such a plateau of understanding.
A warm suddle voice sang through the silence like the masterful playing of a melancholic violinist.
Following the words a warmed faced women appeared in the window
"dinners ready" she proclaimed, we stood and readied ourselves still caught in the moment of the dance that is human silence.
We rushed ready and eager through the huge blood red mahogany doors, the smell of middle eastern spice exploded and seduced our nostrils. We climbed to apartment 5c,  a young gentlemen of 25 greeted us. "Dear Monsieur's et mademoiselles dinner is served" He announced awhile taking our tea's and warm fur jackets.
The room was lovely and very inviting, the smell of warm sandalwood incense embraced our cold noses with a warm sensual hug. Our eyes were calmed by a deep warm orange lighting and soft candle flickers throughout the dinning area, next to the table was the warm faced women. Smiling as if we were her very own children.
"Sit my beauties" she softly spoke to us, her voice was like a soft childhood lullaby holding and securing any of our insecurities.

A heavy set eye, the keen smell of ****** spiced sent.
Perhaps the foolery of the stolen soul,
or a mixed and Contorted sense of the perverted weeping *****.
My senses heavy, blood thick as gold
I **** back on this sweet and sugary Tobacco roll
To my own disdain I have become bleak Pathetic and filled with shame
Crying like the ooh so sought weeping widows of war mongering hero's
Scared and abused from the husbands raging alcoholic abuse.
Its a shame really, how the war kills the most beautiful of two.
Raging and ripping  the flesh of such a supple and beautiful chest.
Gods and devils do not exist, For the evil of man is surely what exists
Not these narcissistic delusional realities of entities that blindly wish us bliss or a deadly kiss,...

Caught in this great scheme
Perhaps I am too Mortal of a man
Shamed and cruel
Sipping my blood and destroying the few good men
I think its a Time of self catharsis
Dwindling deep with in this giant scape of self
Holding onto something Broken;
Can we break through to the other side together
and leave this fabled world behind
I am sick of acting upon this stardust stage
How much beauty is forgotten or broken
for the simple progression of some chemical creation
Take a deep breathe as the air escapes the holding cell
Fear not the fall of your State but the rise of your tender heart.

Pretty Girl,
Dancing in the Cashmere Dew
Your dress but brilliant and blue
In this tiny apartment we sit
Your long waving hair
Is so Intimate.
I extend for a kiss
a soft supple lip is what I wish
So free so pure you are
Too Beautiful for troubles
Too beautiful for scares,
You are free of the ugly
No torment for you
Leave it to us
The ripped
Torn and Crude.