Quasi...

A poet adrift!
Lost without meter, form or structure,
A curse burdening his head,
A gift weighing down his heart.

Searching with intense nostalgia
His poems of yesterday,
Pictures that were at one time a mirror,
Are now but a distant memory.

A broken man,
Faking serenity, having lost touch with himself.
Intolerably, incoherently rambling,
The unintelligible scribblings of a fool.

Grasping at straws of lucidity,
Unable to stay afloat in a sea of expired ideas;
Ideas exhausted to obsolescence.
Only cryptic rhetoric crushing him on every side.

Stuck in what seems a perpetual purgatory
Not quite what he used to be
Not quite what he wants to be
Quasi-Me

---HalfCrazy

Silence.....

Every time I get the opportunity to occupy even the smallest amount of space alone, I am reminded of my self-imposed oath that I will, one day, live alone. It's not so much that I hate being around others, as a matter of fact I love being around others, maybe a bit too much; group activities are kinda my thing. Instead it might be that I spend so much time in the company of friends that I have a deeper appreciation for the few, sparse moments of solitude I afford myself by the way I live my life.

The silence in those moments is so freeing. My mind wanders to a place where my thoughts can roam as far as the horizon and beyond. The ideas take on a life of their own and become greater than I'd ever thought they could have been. One of my favorite poets wrote, "Sometimes silence is the loudest kind of noise," and she is not mistaken. Sometimes it has the ability to deafen and drown out one's state of lucid thought. But sometimes, the stillness has a way of calming one's nerves and relaxing the spirit.

That's the way I like my Saturday and Sunday mornings. I sit in almost perfect silence only intermittently interrupted by an MSN alert or two, a passing vehicle or a neighbor's singing. Even then the calm is quickly restored.

I've always lived with people. I shared a room with my brother till he was about 8 or 9. Then again at 15 when we moved to Jamaica. For the first year and a half of college, I shared a dorm room with one of my closest friends, and for some time a Mexican exchange student. Then after moving off campus I shared a room (of sorts) with two other friends, before sharing a room with my brother again, and a house with three other friends for the next two years.

I've always been around people. That's why I wanna live alone; maybe for a year or two. It's not so much for the liberty. I've always had about as much liberty as I wanted. It's for the silence. Four walls and me just wading through bad ideas searching for pearls of wisdom in my head. I think I might just be able to write a book or two!