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May 21st, End of the World. End of the Words.

So she told me how they said it was 21st


How that those who are good disappear first

And how that many were selling their things

Their furniture, their clothes and their blings

We laughed,”oh people, not right now would the world end”

So there I was at the other end calling friends.

Telling them how tomorrow, the world will be history

“Oh George, what a joke. How do fools unravel mystery”

So we waited for the hours of twenty first of May

Like broke labourers waiting for the month’s pay.


A coke in hand, pop corn between the laps,

We watched the television for news on the earth’s collapse,

Constantly laughing our butts off when some carried placards,

many confessing sins; from prostitutes to beggars, robbers to hackers.

Then it started. I heard the thunder first, skies darkening,

A storm now brewing. “Oh God, this just couldn’t be happening”.

I called for her, got no response. “Honey, stop the damn trick”.

No response. Called her cell, she just won’t pick.

Checked every room, and got nothing but echoes.

Nothing moved. Only curtains and those annoying geckos.

I called my friends but calls wouldn’t go through.

Will they or will they not have any clue?


Pandemonium in my head, armpit goshing with sweat,

Lips randomly moving like those of a well versed flirt.

Just then I heard it, the phone rang out. I wasn’t alone.

“Dude, heard the soccer scores today”, the voice from the phone.

It was George calling from Ghana.”Get a grip , gutless!

The world won’t end. Everyone here is out, talk less.

Just then, Jane jolts opens the bathroom door.

“Honey, what’s all the noise? Why are you on the floor?


Don’t tell me you fell for it! Darling, don’t tell me you did”.

Harold Camping! Harold Camping! What did you read?


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