You won't understand
how it feels
to love.

You never loved,
you only calculate,
you only think.
You are never
on the brink. You never feel.

You won't understand how it is,
how man turns blind and then
how blind man turns man who can see.
You never felt this way,
you only think, and look
and calculate

what is good for you,
what is bad,
what is to remember,
what is to forget.

I hate you
for hating me,
I hope one day you will learn
and you will feel
how it is like
to love. One day
you will shed a tear, I hope. I bet.
Then you will speak to me,
you will look at me differently,
you will remember my name.

I'm sorry for you sometimes,
it must be sad
to separate the light from shadow
and shadow from the light
with one simple cut, one look
of the cold eyes.

You are never sorry for me,
but
I'm sorry for you sometimes.

Running away from the barbaric land,
where eye-for-an-eye is the only law.
Running awayfrom the blind hatred of its people,
from my own home, which has been besieged.

Fleeing the wars and heartless bombs,
hollowed eyes and kidnapped souls.
Runnig away from prophets and preachers.
From life after life and death before death.

Chicken, turkey's enemy for life
decided to make up, before he dies.
Said to the turkey: "Let's be a friends,
as we will have same, bitter end.

Not far from now till Christmas time
when they will **** us, stuff and dine.
Life is too short to live at war,
let's spend the last months of life in joy..."

But turkey replied: No way, you dirt!
You stupid chicken, go away!
Don't even try to talk to me,
you cheeky *******, ******, ****!

When Christmas came, they caught them both,
and it the same pan put to boil.
And turkey said to chicken, crying:
"You were right, man, we both now dying!

My hatred, anger were in vain,
I spent my whole life in chicken hate.
I want to make a peace, at last
and give you, buddy, friendly hug."

They hugged each other, in the pan,
then boiling water took their lifes.

If I married Lady Middleton
king's court would be my new home,
and Fame would be my new name.
To serve her would be my new job,
I'd spent my days on trying hard
to satisfy her heart,
counting on single touch or kiss,
dreaming of anything more than that,
trying to melt her coldest heart. Paying clowns
to entertain me, make me forget about
sorrow and pain and solitude.
Letting my servant wipe my tears,
playing chess with myself,
talking to dogs and monkeys, not listened by her.
My hair would go gray, my eyes'd get hollowed,
My wallet would be thick and I'd be a royal like,
a married to the lady from the upper class,
but I wouldn't know what's love, what's joy,
I'd kiss the pillow, sleep alone.
No, I won't marry Lady Middleton, no way.

I will marry the fisherman's daughter Belle,
simple but very beautiful girl,
she won't lead me on, or play mind games,
she'll be my sea, I'll be her fisherman.
I'll live with her in a dock town house,
enjoying simple - though sometimes hard - life.
Kissing her, cuddling, caressing,
and when the night comes, *******
and having time of our life in bed.
With a smile on my face, happiness in my heart,
never in sorrow, in pain.

I've made my decision, I'll marry
the fisherman's daughter Belle.

The hand
which plucked the flower,
will wilt too.

My neighbourhood
hungry pigeons,
small supermarket,
Turkish kebab shop.

People with faces
of a lonely ghosts,
dull cars, loud airplanes
bugging their own noise.

Fake beggars, cafe
full of strangers' talk,
grey skies above me,
ex-paradise lost.

My neighbourhood,
weekend market's stalls,
park, always empty,
closed down gospell hall.

Two homeless in Dyatt Street
they asked me for money,
I said Sorry and wanted to leave,
but they stood in front of me,
I said: I don't know you. And they asked:
So who do you know?
I said nothing. I knew that might be it.

And I wanted to leave, I wanted them to let me go.
But I wasn't scared, no, I wasn't scared,
and they felt it, like dogs feel human's fear.

It was a one of a dark, narrow London streets,
evening, September 26th,
somehow no one was around.
They cornered me, and they could have done with me
anything they wanted. I heard them saying to each other:
Shall we **** this boy?

But they let me go,
they somehow let me go. Strange.
Maybe 'cause I wasn't scared of death,
'cause I was, kinda, one of them,
homeless, in a way,
someone who went through life's hell,
but not showing it, staying strong, brave,
hiding my secrets deep inside.
Maybe they realised
that I am one of them.

They let me go, ashamed.