*
Green Day on the radio,
Wake me up when september
A bit of paper before me, a bit of weed, coffee
Every morning the sun is cold,
like a thirty-year-old child
born dead
I find the sins of the picture I drew yesterday
No good deeds in it; yet I must be constructive
Against
Myself
I must arm
*
There were times I set the right squad,
yet ended up all alone
Whereas
the expectation of forgiveness is a team game
Forging a chain of ignominy, I resist the police
and Almighty God.
Against them
I am looking for a good deed to counter
Should I quit painting and start poetry,
Dear Mister Yahya Kemal
I have no idea.
*
If only you were alive, Dear Mister Yahya Kemal
I would ask you things
I could ask no one else
For instance,
what am I to do with all these dead inside me?
People are like unopened letters
in their envelopes
Erotic meanings hidden in their passive
clauses
Do you know, Dear Mister Yahya Kemal,
Most people don’t know how to watch a porn film.
It gains such volume in their minds
Triangular cunts, cylindrical pricks, holed
socks, torn underpants…
*
My inside is growing cold
That’s thermodynamics for you
You should be able to feel you are dead
when the time comes
I drew the picture of my pulse, Dear Mister Yahya
Kemal
Tell me;
What can a man do with a corpse?
**
**
*Yahya Kemal Beyatlı (1884-1958), whose real name was Ahmed Agâh, was one of the most important founders of pure poetry in Turkish literature, a poet, diplomat, and politician. He is known for his works dealing with Ottoman history, his love for Istanbul, and the years of the national struggle. Except for his only poem (Ok) written in syllabic meter, all his works were written in aruz meter. Wikipedia
Chaotica
ANARCHISTALES 