Clinking of ink bottles
Scratching of quills
Rustling of paper
Pouring out knowledge

Sweating students
Angry teachers
Swatting of fleas
No more patience

Old mad bat suddenly
Shouting
"Bring me the earmuffs!!"
Laughing, crying, farting

Interupting the quiteness
"Why would you ask that?"
Principal Harpy asks
"Surely it isn't winter"

"Goodness me, have I said that out aloud?"
"I take it back!"
"Kindly continue with your exams"
But no matter, nothing was the same.

in the mornings it blooms
open are the windows to my peace
flowers sprout in the interior
mushrooms pattern along the sidewalk

the sound of swirling echoes through
the thc trees speak in mellow volumes
the walls are hue
they speak of a gloomy truth

the temple of my peace
rest your burdens upon the carpet outside
walk in with your eyes blinded
walk no more

the preacher of my temple speaks
with peace one is complete
without one is broken
and inbetween one is unfound

peace sings louder in her temple
even louder in yourself
with peace we walk out seeing
peace for oneself
peace for others

it's the end of a long day
here in Chicago
weather made giddy by spring
with snow blown horizontal  by a west wind
bright sunlight made stop-action by scudding clouds
then more snow
the day then grew older and more responsible
calmed down to quiteness
the sparrows come out to gossip

the darkness of this road seems endless
headlight guide me through quiteness
songs on the radio are about us
of lost love and trust

was it I who smothered you too much
with morning notes of "I love you '' and such
did boredom of me set in too soon
when you realized you need something new

encountering the rising sun, the brightest of day
warmth of her rays, as I start to reengage
you stand by the road, trying to hitch a ride
to set up a new man, and his ultimate demise

The fictitious smile
The cheerful laughter
The pleasant greetings.
Are all deceived you see.
My calm quiteness, hides all that I compose from my woes.
How are you doing today?
I ask not that I really care.
Ploting against on the inside.
I act nice as someone who you think is nice.
I didn't even try to say that nicely.
My mask must be slipping.
Or cracking.
I may not be able to keep this facade up for much longer.
I am the devil in white.
Or so I was once told.
By a wise man up north.
"You are the devil, real as can be.
Cheer up honey, it's sunny show them teeth.
Be nice as you can be, so no-one can see. Be all you can be by this if not...
Just flee."
Who knew I would fall in love with the first devil?
His words still echo into my ears.
Or maybe it's just the voices I hear?
Please God if you can hear me shoot me.
I'm just kidding.
I am just a loon.
Trapped in a cocoon.
Trying to hide my disturbing personality.

Sleep has deserted me tonight
Post midnight
It's just me,the empty streets,the constellations and the moonlight
The quiteness all around is haunting
Save for the odd eerie cries of the night owl
A nice cool breeze is blowing across
The sound of the treeleaves fluttering is so *******
I'm out on the rooftop
I'm trying to write
But thoughts refuse to come to my aid tonight
I'm blowing smoke puffs into the air
Trying to give the impression that 'bout nothing do i care
I'm feeling bored
So i start chatting with my dreams
We often interact with each other..
..share stories and give each other advice
Then fear comes along and joins the conversation
He asks me about my greatest fear?
And i reply that my greatest fear is that one day i will have no fear left to deal with
And that day i'll be finished
'Coz without the most powerful impulse of the human spirit...
...how will i push myself?
So there i am staring at a blank page
Feeling frustrated
Scratching and banging my head
What the **** is wrong with me?
Why can't i write?
Where have the words disappeared?
It's like my brain's gone in a state of hibernation
I just can't get no inspiration
I listen to some music
Even that doesn't help
So i take some pills and decide to sleep it off
And when i wake up and the first rays of the sun hits my face
I see the most amazing sunrise
And like a kid's first run
It all comes back to me
The thoughts are born
Ideas arrive
The imagination starts to run wild
Words get created
I'm punching the keys of my laptop
And all's well in my mind again

Whenever I feel like crying my heart out
Whenever I feel like screaming my lungs out
Whenever I feel like I'm burnt by the sun of life
Whenever I feel engulfed by flames of sadness
Whenever I feel depressed and low...
...the room in the corner of my home.. That's where I go...
That room is my refuge during my sad moments
The room has dark coloured walls
The room possesses a couple of dim lights
The room doesn't have anything much save for an old bookshelf which contains memories of my childhood
On the walls of the room are some hanging pictures of my childhood...
Those pictures look at me with affection..
...sometimes with a bit of concern
...perhaps they feel sympathetic towards my lonely heart
The room comforts me and takes me its in arms when I feel like I can't take the agonies of life no more..
The room with its eerie quiteness has a soothing effect on me
The room has a solid wooden door which is sometimes hard to pull open
But once it let's you in...it just takes you over with it's warmth and kindness
Whenever I feel like resting my head on a shoulder
Whenever I want to think clearly
That room always helps me out
The room in the corner of my home means so much to me....

there is a smile below
there is a smile above
betwixt the heart of praise
a lonely heart found love

a soul devides then parts
on every circumstance we can learn
to take part in the dance
in quiteness I must confess

the cause of togetherness
my soul permeates a reason for being
in the changing of the season
there is the smile that holds

it also offends
let the reader understand
a beacon of light onto
a hurting world in need of love

nestled from the tender hand from up above
through common cadence we both can agree
the soft pitter patter of the amazing melody
in sullen brevity we can fondly agree