it howls back at me
it howls back at me, darling
darling, why didn’t you save my babies?
I warned you about the line of ants
so many times
did my babies cry too loud?
could our neighbours hear them?
were you too busy begging?
asking more from the goddess of wealth,
fortune and virility?
here I write this poem for our little ones
like medieval poets
with a candle on my left, near my heart
and blood rouge wine on my right
where few ants are still left
and I might not **** them
did my babies cry too loud?
could our neighbours hear them?
were you too busy begging?
you know, darling, if your prayers –
are answers tonight
no praying hands are going to ask for mercy
from lord again, ever
I know there’s a moon shining too bright
doing its utmost to come closer to me
but a hideous humongous building stands between us
wrecked and damaged, yet too tall
monstrous, too haunted
helpless like us
too nightmarish
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
even if my wings overfill with remorse later,
I really need to leave for my pilgrimage –
angels, stars and janitors wait for me there.
they do not make merry
do not mourn
cannot marry, will never reproduce
my *** soon will be undefined, they say my spirit will too
what do I do with my freewill that you all so envy?
those who are born in prison,
do not know abusing certain privileges –
this is an impudent wastage of luxury.
terribly, now, the unwells too have mastered
celebrating medieval poets,
forsaken sonnets –
and rejoicing in complete despair.
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 5:21 PM UTC
Before I drown in this shallowness
Can the promised sabbaticals be prohibited?
Before I drown in this shallowness
Can my nightmares stop adapting stories from your sweet secrets?
Should I be melancholic or ecstatic
For how I’ve unlearned to please myself?
Should I be melancholic or ecstatic
For how the firmament can replace every tiny particle?
Before I drown in this shallowness, remember –
No matter how blasphemous you are
Please do not urinate in our mosque
*** everywhere else.
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 5:20 PM UTC
Our woodland was filled with beggars, maniacs and perverts
But we never had to seek help or find protection
Haven’t known any god or demon to blame
So I embraced their congenital malfunctions,
And mine too
We were surrounded by piles of innocent propagandas
Assorted with some grossly exaggerated honesty
Fortunately enough –
Cleanliness would be the beggars’ top criterion
And mine too
A tiny venomous needle was always the maniac’s favourite weapon
He whispered in the ear,
“Run! Run!! Run!!!
Through the narrowest alleys of your dumb mind!”
The perverts took pauses, often and peculiarly
From the run, from the salacious dances, from their thirst
We’d know we were in the wrong time again
I’d know I had to close my eyes to feel the pain, again
Unfortunately enough –
They liberate your soul
Only to suffocate it with their bare hands
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
I was hired for the harshness of my voice
and my art of prolonged weeping
then why I’m lashed so mercilessly
each time I howled in agony
I was hired for my long black hair
soft, wavy, shiny and so beautiful
but no combs were ever bought for me
I was hired for my knowledge of blue hues
prussian, cyan, cobalt and midnight
but they prohibited me from looking at the sky
yet I secretly exercise my lamentation,
so hard doing it with eyes wide open,
and I secretly struggle to unravel too
why the child was so thankful
while digging holes deeper than its own height
did it also, like me, know that
holes, wholeheartedly, are see-through
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 12:29 PM UTC
The task was strictly about saving virgins
He carefully picked the ****** instead
He might seem kind to you at the first place
But you have to wait to see his horse, or horses
He calls himself ‘Stray’ and warmly invites you to his house
Yet would ask your legitimacy with brutal softness to enter his property
Fortunately, I was good at omitting disputes,
And paying high attention at them too
He surely didn’t burn incense that evening, or any other evening
But he hunted innocent wild beings, and does it almost every day for pleasure
I remember laughing at a bald man for his funny walk once
While we crossed the same misery-deluged road
And there was Stray, making mentionable bonding with the untouchables,
Nothing could cut his route off to that disease-ridden muddy land
I learned, he and his horses didn’t know boundary of any sort
And audaciously would reach every horizon
But when they read me wrong, I calmly replied,
“Do not dare to call me a slave.
Because I still am the master of my thundering laughter.
And my tears after all know how to run like freemen.”
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
In an act of offering, a century-old love was forsaken
The memories of naked showering now swim
In a tank of rapacity, in the suit of purity
Slowly from one end to another
Holding the scripture of ignorance
And intolerance
The collection of roadside fortuities, so scrupulously made,
Now also swims in the tank of rapacity
In the suit of cordiality
Slowly from one end to another
Holding the scripture of impatience
And negligence
In the nights of obscurities, climbing the ladder of lust
Sins are toweled dry
Hymning is performed, smelling delicious
When few more desires rise *****
Eyes are welled up in contempt, yet in compassion
Standing on the ruins of confessions, the promise was protected
The promise was protected, on an act of offering
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 1:55 AM UTC
I tried to look hard
But I’m not really sure
Was it a big black feline
Or a small black primate
I’m sure
Hunching over it was talking to its own exhaustion
Sitting on a wall with a window
With rustic grille
And blue plastic curtain
I’m sure
If it was a big black feline
She was communicating
with her old imaginary friend
And If it was a small black primate
He was homesick
and suppressing his emotions to his solitude
If it was a big black feline
She was pregnant with one’s twins
but carried a torch for someone else
And If it was a small black primate
It was indulged into his melancholy
while slowly moving its tail
But I’m not really sure
Who was more merciless?
The one wearing a sparkly leotard
Waiting eagerly to start spinning
Because that was his only forte
Or the one who wasn’t ashamed at all
To lean her head against the stranger’s shoulder
To fall asleep immediately
And permanently
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC