hours pass by,
I guess days sometimes change,
months, I haven't known in years,
somewhere deep inside my mind,
words howl once again,
call me to write once more,
I don't want,
not now, not yet,
time shall come when its due,
paint pictures of a world so new,
a magical place,
we shall all be in a queue,
a world, not ruled by a few

I am the nemesis,
of bold new world,
the last mohican,
who remembers bloodstained history,
of humankind

they come at night,
in hopes, to erase stories,
of what they did,
who they forgot, the untold mystery,
of those left behind

but I've told you before,
and I'll tell you again,
this spirit of mine, you can't take away,
see free folk knows, the ***** secrets,
of evils mind

so say your prayer, and know,
from the fire of your lies,
I was born, and now,
I am coming, for your death

*** and July
   gives tingling heat,
paves way
  for all romanticism,
and poor Rudy,
wrote a letter of love before dawn, and as expected,
           she adored it,
  never were they told,    
Romeo and Juliet is a ******* tragedy!

In the ruins of freedom,
there remains speechless,
where fear no longer exists,
it lives a life of everyday wanderer,
and we,
who have gathered around umbrella,
have forgotten the chaotic sound of,
how drops of evil rumble,
to the thin layer of canvas,
known as peace

I open the attics window,
For I crave a cigarette,
I see trees,
Clothed in snow,
Under white dots,
That some call stars,
It is cold,
While cigarette clothes me,
And warms a poets heart

Grand finale of days Opera,
nocturnal protagonist's fulfillment,
the reason mornings ****,
why all night we wanna ****,
why sleeping alone means bad luck,
I must not be alone here,
atmosphere of this thought,
gladly knows mere,
yet no more than mere facade of fuckups

There will be,
last time of times,
place where time won't turn back no more,
so until,
I reach this foreign land,
I give you choices,
for voices within, makes all kind of noices,
ones I enjoy, some hurtful decoy,
but my life,
too short to think twice,
too many times, you preached I'm nice,
so leash is on, chokes once more,
stings deeply in my souls core

you take me to asgårdian lights,
rob this novice from his sight,
see these flickering reels,
steal real feelings, at ease,
and what is left of me,
offers nothing to goddesses,
whom now walk beside,
                                 undersigned.

Blinded by beauty I was,
and now, streets of Paris sting,
remind of life's cruelty alas,
turn passionless, in a time of spring,
so I dance, with jazzy steps,
from Arc de Triomphe to Champs-Elysees,
forever young, forever Immortal,
gods favourites dance around,
all the way to Place de la Concorde, here,
they all wish to be on line,
for quillotine that turns back time,
send them back for one more rhyme,
Kings, Lovers, Poets now cry,
their melancholy is stolen, oh why, o'why!!

when rivers flow upstream,
I wish,
you could see this dream,
this masquerade of sacrifice,
understand my choice of life,
reality, surpassed by reality,
how the stars tell their tales,
and make me have these ales

light of life rose above the desert,
as salomon sang the blues,
traveller felt the eyes of Ra, as he passed his last hurrah,
now left to be judged by rattlesnakes,
zikhi-zhii-zii

journey of lost soul,
only echoes voyages of past fears,
to rise against the dark he dared,
was it for blues, was it for Ra?
know not, but courage to travel far,
the traveller sure had

how you keep a secret,
when you run out of space to hide it?

and who do i tell, i don´t miss you,
only parts of we, and role you played,
in this crush extreme...

and why today, when years have passed,
does window present a morning twin,
of time long gone, that lost its bling

and who do i tell, i don´t miss you,
only parts of we, and role you played,
my sweetest muse

To be truly heard, would create fear,
They would question their meaning,
Distort the balance of self-images,
A chaos of truth can't live within,
Ripping the paint away,
Underneath just an empty canvas

My gift of curse o,
No happier to choose,
To write melancholy,
This the gift,
The curse though,
To writ, with feeling,
I must be there deep, so deep o,
For art I'd dive deep, so deep o,
Give my life to live forever

raven, raven fly to me,
mighty winds be her guard,
can you catch, the sound from sea,
longing song echoes from past

raven, raven wait for me,
half a soul stayed for thee,
by the river, by the sea,
desperate lovers can be seen

brothers, sisters and all minorities,
I call you not to arms, unless forced,
but to gaze upon undersigned and thyself,
let us lay our forgotten senses,
in the hands liberty,
escape,
the long ruled captivity,
of forces that reckon no humanity

see the sea we are gasping our air in,
the false beliefs they are airing,
hear the fear of our siblings,
from the earth of castaway feelings,
and feel tomorrow of rescued society,
unity of you and me, for you are me,
and I am you, should we ever melt the globe to one remainining matter, wholeness.

sweet child, do not go up the stairs,
tomorrow polaris dies!
as only memoir remains,
in the melancholic skies,
virtuous child, spare your veins!

so you couldn't resist a shooting star,
you're not a failure, you're a poet,
come meet your kind,
in nighttime rooftops, we wait for you,
life's beauty, you will find!

misunderstandings,
****! i hate misunderstandings..,
they have ruined...yes..,
like clouds ruin beautiful weather,
yes..like clouds..
they have ruined,
something that could have been beautiful,
our weather, you know..?
the one with the colours,
where colours make no justice,
for these colours were unseen,
collision, of two rainbows,
cause, i like blue, and you like orange,
hope one day i am blessed to see,
whatever they call blange

black and white rainbows,
everywhere now,
my colours I left there you see,
up for grabs, and I knew it,
but **** I miss red,
how it made my heart beat,
and ******* blue,
beautiful and rude,
and for you green,
no hard feelings,
all or nothing had to go

as sun goes down and nocturnes play out,
thoughts, they calmly sail, I,
reach new age bacchanalia,
garden,
of modern day failure

in 'Cáfe Orbit's End' line,
we wait for, forbidden wine,
the sweet taste of freedom,
now echoes long lost kingdom

Isn't it ironic,
I, try to size up shoe,
when we knew,
our love, never felt true,
lost at the sea of ours,
I look at sirens,
wishing, I was wise too,
seeing now, why is you

Am I not brave
  enough to love,

Is my heart
  still in it's place to fall,

These questions
  haunt me and call to shore,

For I am the sea
  so rarely calm,

One drop of water
  in the shore,

Some moments later
  dry and gone

look what free speech has done,
over 100,000,000 books written,
laying in shelfs of thrift shops,
given away for free,
since 99,999,637 are not worth reading,
to be honest,
I blame parents, and teachers, but most of all,
the wannabe bohemians,
with their designer clothes and artisan beer,
giving applause for friends,
who just published their debut work

a poet doesn't cry through their eyes,
but if you look deep enough,
you might see,
how tears fall from their soul

the way rain beats dry desert,
birth of flowers,
creation of installation

and a poet doesn't write,
but if you look deep enough,
you might see,
how they paint gardens in shape of words

Once you, you and you,
made me cry in my room,
and when I say,
I'm happy for you,
I truly mean it

And all those times,
I curse you, you and you,
late at night in my room,
and you're all dead to me,
just know,
I don't mean it

As there must be,
balance in the world,
there are you,
and me,
writing opposite word

I pour beer
to my half full glass

the composed glassware
fulfills
to its utmost extent

second class beer can
sits in its shadow
refusing to empty
become obsolete
pressed
neglected
recycled
today

to bearers of suffering,

and their poems;

the sole witness they ever had

Oh how the ruins of romance are sad,
kissing in the rain, wet, cold, just bad,
dancing in the moonlight drunken, just fab,
wondering should this turn me on,
or I just embarrass myself,
in front of Hermione, next,
comes morning and it's due,
screaming        
                             "nevermore!"

I've had my fair share of travels,
touched, the most glorious flower,
been, in the unforeseen sea,
lands of gold, peace, never to be reached

                     -

what lies now, at home,
nothing here, yet all thee,
within me

If a battle within,
you dare not win,
then don't

it's not about how happy life you live,
when you're dead and gone,
six feet under, all alone,
see, happiness don't mean much,
it's solely things you leave behind,
chirping any meaning at all,
to those who stick around few more years,
sure happiness makes the journey easier,
nevertheless it won't build pyramids,
make poor anymore rich,
or nothing, out of the ordinary

patti austin, let your faust in
let the vinyl play
pour whiskey, ***, gin
anything upright, if you may
little drunk, play that funk
sink the drink, sunk this drunk
hey boy, this is savoy!

read Bukowski
make mistakes that twists your gut,
lay on the shower floor,
so cold, even warm water doesn't help,
make eye contact, when you're death afraid,
drop out of school,
lose some friends,
how else would you learn life

It amazes me
like Angkor Wat
standing
in morning aurora
the perfect view
I can't escape
(I haven't tried)
the nubility
of melancholic, doleful eves

And it amazes me
why beauty of sadness
appeals to this man
like magnets of my mind
were once mixed by their poles
could it be
the explanation
why its tough to navigate
and feel a bit lost in this world
my beautiful world

hello my child, and remember,
you are still and steady swamp,
in heart of a flourishing woodland,
you are mirror, to reflection of hatred

do not exceed your capacity, my child,
surface of time, divider of life

when you eutrophicate,
are hell and heaven divorced,
mirrors broken,
and images left on the wrong side,
will suffocate,
for who breathes hatred,
shall drown in love

so rest tight tonight sweet swamp,
your destiny is much to endure

It starts with C,
we all know the abc,
then comes delta,
we forget all,
spike me, **** me, penetrate me,
and now nobody knows abc,
it's new letters, new syllables,
and I thought I go mad,
on poetry, philosophy, but no,
world has lost it's mind,
now,
we all go down together,
battling, mostly each other,
what has happened to the world,
to you, to me?
we used to know ourselves,
our sensibility, on shelves
will you be my friend?

I sat by,
the railway station,
young people,
with pride flags,
and costumes,
had fun,
minding their own business

I thought:
it's beautiful
perhaps there's hope,
after all,
buried,
somewhere deep

then curtain came down,
for no reason known,
duo of drunks,
spoiled their fun,
yet hope seemed alive,
this time,
it was the bully,
who ran

short time after,
a man,
cigarette on his lips,
that somebody else,
had already smoked,
drank an ice-cube,
from plastic bubble tea cup,
that somebody else,
had already consumed

and I thought:
hope truly sleeps,
perhaps too deep

the day is here,
once again,
they drag themselves,
to boxes,
we call,
democracy,
a number here,
number there,
vote with voice,
that doesn't resonate,
their frequencies,
and we forget,
unkept promises,
Hope plays hide-n-seek

I've seen the world change,
not by numbers but words,
written by a drunk poet

they say two roads
diverges, hoax!
there's a lone crow,
on every highway,
one that i vow,
resembles,
a modern day poet,
breadcrumbs,
in a blistering,
debauched sphere,
thy be our totem,
post-mortem gravestone;
"death by thousand poems"

You took my love afar,
like video killed a radio star,
left me standing in the shore,
no more ice cream in my cone,
what a beautiful trick, by dondurma man