The immaculate, white wall of the sanatorium,
the fleas, the bugs, the absence of rugs,
the lack of sounds,
or the rat-a-tat-tat,
constantly penetrating
the enclosure of the lonely,
the peace of the one and only.
In the garden of solitude,
Where her and his only companions
are fleeting thoughts and sentient beings,
Loneliness becomes an art
and the vacant space
enough to fill the heart.
Is she lonely?
Is he alone?
They might be,
but vibrate in silence.
Hush…
For it is the art of loneliness!
Down on Lonely Avenue
I tripped
On a hell of a shell
And I fell
Me, an urban hippie
My floral gown, ripped…
Down in the void
A misfit, a rugged bearded man
Escaping, condemning society, materialism
Created his den
An onion, maybe ten
Layers and layers of Zen
Down on Lonely Avenue
My bloody knees
I lost my keys!
I might even have a kidney disease
Please… freeze, or maybe sneeze
To be accident-prone used to be fun
Like a pun
Now, it’s just a bull run.
Down in the void
I try to hold my own
Away from it all
At times, a Buddha in my soul
Seldom, as mad as Sigmund Freud
It’s quiet and free
under this Banyan tree
It’s lonely
only me and the green tea.
Down on Lonely Avenue
I crawl on concrete
I almost lost my wit
Everyone’s laughing at my outfit
My pain, my care
I wanted to transmit
Yet… the masses only perceive
that my cardigan is vintage and double- knit
Down in the void
The retired fellow
On a pension scheme
Of one and a half marshmallow
Banished himself and his cello
to this world of mellow
down bellow.
He renounced the sun
and all of its yellow.
Down on Lonely Avenue
The cruel with all their expensive fuel
Invaded the street
Their feet clad in meat
They bargain and tweet
I admit my defeat
Descend in the void
Oh, wonder!
Who is this other humanoid?
