Poems Of A Lonely And Forgotten Man PDF Download

There has been an idea in my mind for most of my life. It is the idea that the sad and lonely can come together and comfort one another. I have experienced a great deal of loneliness in my life, and sadness too, and so for the length of my adulthood I have written about loneliness, lonely people, broken people, hurt people, damaged people. The idea came out again in a poem I wrote in my previous book of poetry: The world makes me want to vomit, vomit on the world, and that's where the story ends, except perhaps those quiet moments alone, when all I want is to pick up this sad, lovesick, broken person lying in the gutter, or someplace like it, who is alone, sick with life, sick with pain, and carry them off to bliss in some paradise not made for this world. That was the poem that inspired this book of poetry. What struck me after writing it was that its theme is the main theme about which I write. I don't write about love so much, or romance, or happiness, or anything so ordinary. I write about the unusual experience of being alone and feeling isolated, exiled, tragically separate from society and the modern social world, not fitting in with the modern social climate, not being a part of life as it is out there, in the cities and in the realms of amicable gatherings. This is a book of poetry about lonely people, and I want to be of help to them, like a voice that speaks in the silence, in the calm, about us, about all of us who are alone, about those of us left out, cast out, and living lives of desperation because we feel unwanted. I want to advise them to seek out others who are as lonely, for we can take care of each other. We can gravitate toward the lonely, find the lonely like ourselves, and take care of one another in spite of the way the world has left us on our own. We are mostly half-asleep, but when we wake up to our own special place in society, we can seek out others in the same predicament. We are the ghosts that haunt the ordinary, we are the ones who pass by until out of sight and forgotten: we just pass by. While all the world walks arm in arm or comfortably chatting with others like themselves, we are strangers, shadows looking on from a distance, stiff, awkward, fragile, in pieces. We have been left out of their cultural pastimes, their entertainments, their social activities, and we feel disheartened by it, anguished by the lack of attention we receive, in heavy spirits because we feel we're somehow wrong. That doesn't mean we must remain alone. All of us deadened by mistreatment, intimidated by society, with ruined self-respect, with hunched shoulders and cowering egos, why not find one another and be set free among ourselves to live calm and cool with those like us? That's what I write about; my writing is designed with those of us like that in mind. We can be a swarm. We can make a covenant under the dizzy stars. We can agree that each of us is worth our benevolent warmth and friendliness, however atypical we are.