You are materially lonely in this hostile world,
live in a family with lot other stuffs,
but end of the day you are sadistically lonesome.
You’ve lovers and friends my friend,
and lot of works to do.
You’re the sincere citizen of the country,
loved to eat Banana pie,
and keep busy your tummy with tasty foods.
You like to kiss your fiancé
and be like to refining her with your choice.
You, the corporate man…
with flossy dresses;
never forget to brush your teeth,
and the trusted machines…
never betraying you in toilet.
My friend, you’re strong
with a Viagra free dickhead,
but the dickhead feel him bastard…
and poorly ordinary for the world
at end of the day.
I know I know you’re not an ordinary man
You’ve lot of fans and followers,
know the magic to tackle them
and always doing it professionally.
You’re professional on your intellectuality,
like to play with words artfully.
I know I know,
you’re competent like Mr. Machiavelli,
and prudent and charming.
Despite this, you Mr. Machiavelli suddenly feel that a lonesome lunatic slowly pushing you to the edge of silence. Your tireless efforts to be an essential to be the smartest, stumbled in the stairs of loneliness.
My dear friend, you’re a skilled debater on “Socratic Method”, know how to deal with precocious children when they ask you, “Why I am here Papa? Who is the master of our life? Is it you and Mummy or anybody else? My school friend said, life is an accident and we’re accidentally coming to the world. We’re the sinner and bearing the first sin happened in heaven. Is it true Papa?”
I certainly know that you never hesitate to deal with precocious questions, but when you performed like a juggler in front of your audience, a sudden moment was passing over there to penetrate you in silence, and you realized then you’re lonely!, lonely to bear all this so-and-so. Your excavated words (I know you choose them very carefully) now appear meaningless to the deep silence.
Dear friend, tell me, who are you?
The corporate? Tricky dealmaker?
Trusted family master? Artful word-lover?
Dutiful watch ticker? A skilled debater?
Or, the delicate juggler?
Tell me, who you are?
I know, you’ve nothing to say,
cause, all this identity is a pointless molar
to justify that, you’re lonesome.
You’re lonely like the giant blue sky,
which is hanging beside your window in daylight
and shuts at evening to conceal you at dark.
Maybe you’re the window-man
and perhaps the cave-man
just came out there
and tried to swallow everything…
with your peeping eyes.
What’s the identity we’ve my friend?
Is it, we’re nothing but a dealmaker,
lives and breathes here,
to prove that we’re alive?
However, this is not everything my friend. A gray line is always existed over there. A “Circe Tune” is calling us to jump like the deadliest frog. Where? Destiny is yet unknown and nobody knows where the edge is and where to jump!
Circe is magical,
as she was magical to Ulysses and magical…
to you or me.
She is magical to her witchery,
as the infamous witches
declares Macbeth’s fate.
My friend, we lost the “Circe” even to declare our fate. Despite this, you feel a lonesome ghost just appears in the scene to capture soul. Despite this, it’s yet certain that…
words are futile to carry the pain,
to nurture the pain,
that, nothing is heavier than the silence…
and rigorous than a lonesome burden of life.
Destiny is yet unknown and nobody knows where the edge is and where to jump!