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Muzaffer Feb 2019
başım çatlıyor birkaç gündür
sirayet ediyor yaşıma
kalp ağrısı diyor doktor
ağır yükler taşıma

biteviye tırlatmış olmalı
diye düşünmüş olsa gerek ki
bin miligram davul yazmış
bir de tokmak ruhuma
deng-i kalp vücut bulsun
sabah sertliğim
sakinleşsin diye

halbuki
bungee jumping
seviyorum ben
düzüşmek yükseklerde
ve
göze almak yere çakılmayı
meretin sekiz seviyesinde

yoksa corvet teyzenin
bir yıldır kullandığı
gergedan kokan süngerinden
ne farkı kalır geçen yılların
yazdığı reçeteyi
buruşturup attım çöpe

bronx’a gitmeliydim acil
uyurken zürefa cebimde
mary jane özlemiştir
diye düşündüm
eski
bir pigme masalı zihnimde

dışarısı soğuk ve uğulgan
karsa sokakta anadan üryan
bir taksi bile yoktu etrafta
o yüzden
daldım bir bara
göz gözü görmüyordu

kapıda birkaç kafayı bulan
adam ve kadınlar
bir ton lakırdı vardı
kadehlerden taşan

****** mary dedim
varsa en sert olanından
et yığını biriydi barmen
ceza yazan trafik polisine
bakar gibi bakıyordum ki
bacardim de var dedi
arzu ederseniz

****** dedim
ağır çekim
sigaramın dumanından

manhattan’dan mısın
diye sordu
kadehi uzatırken
mardin’liyim dedim
hani şu kapısı şen olan

anlamadım dedi
ben de
avukatım gelmeden
konuşmam

sustu hergele
penceredeydi gözüm oysa
ince ince yağıyordu kar
kırım kongo şeklinde
ve
ayaklarımdan ateş
hızla
yol alıyor beynime

işte o an
ölüm provamı düşledim
bir an
mary jane
defin kortejinde

ceviz kaplama gövdem
bu yıl değilse gelecek sene
diye geçti aklımdan

ve çene’deki
muhteşem temaşa
"işte böyle"...



Vaha
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
it sort of breaks my heart, but at the same time... it sort of doesn't...
oh, i'm good in England...
only today i went for a haircut...
Vicky? Nicky? a proper bleached blonde bombshell...
- so those two hours alone must have been nice,
with your parents away on Jamaica?
- the best time of my life...
but i only had one problem... cooking for myself...
oh... no... not cooking per se...
but cooking for only one person... i find it incredibly
impossible to have to cook for only one person...
i cooked a mango curry... ended up eating it for
3 days...
oh my... she's doable... she's ******* doable...
she's all curves... all woman...
i came into the salon in my usual: Karl Lagerfeld attire...
i.e. wearing the same clothes...
with a baker boy cap... here for a hair-cut...
she started to **** herself up... put on extra lipstick
on... pulsating red...
i sat down in the chair before the mirror
and closed my eyes... we talked...
god... she's a plump blush of flesh... i'd do her...
sorry... i would... she might be in her mid-50s...
but i'd still would...
that's the thing... i later walked into a cafe
to buy a coffee... sure... 17? tight ***... petite...
but she cut me with eyes of a shy doe...
i don't do scared... shy...
i do longing... i'm more into that sort of sensation...
i must be an oddity among men...
young women don't really... don't really
pressure me with attractiveness that might
want me to stick... around...
n'ah... it's boring... the canvas is blank...
sure... it looks great on paper...
but our music tastes would be mismatched...
or our taste in books...
at 35 i'm looking... in the range of 35+ 35 - 55...
if there's a child? that's a bonus...
little Frankenstein monster experiment...
maybe we might learn German... Greek or Russian
together?
it just had to be necessary to not get rich...
to have a choice of young women...
my own age... that's better... or older...
i'm happy... burned by Jeminah...
even after giving her the wine,
the banana loaf, the flowers on Valentine's Day...
struck down on my last turn on my bicycle...
oh man... she burned me... but she shouldn't
have lied about me drinking on the job...
so much for dating alcoholics...
wait... i am an alcoholic... but i'm the sort that
puts out cigarette butts on his knuckles for scars:
i'd hate to get a tattoo...
someone who has punch-ups with his shadow
and ends up with a plum-hue mascara under
his eye... that's me...
i tried to reassure her: my grandmother was married
to my alcoholic grandfather...
it's not a sixth sense... you can't smell alcohol
no more than you can smell ****...
of a donkey: a mile away...
but you know how women are... when it comes
to drinking... those stomach cramps
and my faking of loving-up... well...
chances are... she might have thrown a knife at me...
or punched me... and men drink because?
the women are subservient Turkish galls?
in a society where men are men and women are women?
o.k., sure, she burned me...
i don't need to have my time wasted...
to the brothel i went... ah... she's not Khadījah...
the name of the first wife of the prophet Muhammad...
KHEDRA... well... lucky me... ****** Valentine's day...
wait... wait a minute...
are all these English trying to suppose i believe
they're these ******* nuns?
or are the nerves getting the better of them?
even if they are single mums?!
what, a, waste, of, time... i'm not waiting...
i'd rather get the full-on with a Turkish ******* than...
wait for these... ahem... "nuns"...
i'm not waiting... the bus has already left...
KHADRA... not KHEDRA... which means:
green... verdant... quick! quick!
what's green on the Turkish leash of the tongue?!
my eyes are green... coincidence?
what's the word for verdant?
i need to tell her that my irises are the colour
of her name... in Turkish... i hope the grammar is similar
and i don't come off as *******...
hey... if single mums can shun you...
young girls are in it for the gynocentric: whatever...
while the prostitutes are honest...
3 days of her sending my selfies...
today... a picture of her exposed torso... with an emoji
of open lips covering her belly-button
and an emoji of a kiss on her underwear...
if the prostitutes can be truly human...
why bother the rest of the women?

mind you... sort of funny... my hairdresser remarked
something on the lines... Aryan...
you look Aryan...
well... historically... there was this tribe of Iranians
that arrived on the platitudes of Poland...
they were known as the Sarmatians...
Poland was once known as Sarmatia... Sarmaci...
well... it's not an interracial slur...
it's more an intra-racial slur: Moskiewskie Gałgany...
Muscovite... hmm... what's? a 'gałgan'?
well... closest approximation is: bałwan...
snowman... funny, that... the Germans of
the mid 20th century pretended to be both Aryans
and... mythological Norse folk...
can't play two "etymological folk"...
the "Aryans" invaded former Aryan lands of the Sarmatians
to the east... ****** land...
if... an English girl in the 21st century describes
you as... having Aryan features...
you're getting credible information...
the Russians and the Ukrainians...
what? former Swedes...
                  sure... Кaцaпы... KATSAPY...
all intra-racial slurs... historical grievances...
i guess that slur was derived from the word:
PAJAC... clown...
  
now i have two songs deafening me...
dua lipa's love again
and mabel's tick tock...
   although... when i see her next...

now for that lesson in Turkish...
                   hey... there's not time to sort of shy away
from touching from kissing from *******
in general...
i'm no donkey... that English nun type can pretend
to be dangling a carrot in front of my face
until the point i go all cross-eyed...
i could... sort of simp-it-out, but...
n'ah... i'm going for the alternative...
and there's always an alternative...
next time i see her... and that'll be soon...
i don't listen to her music choice...
i want something spectacular...
it's 18 minute of pure bliss...
                Jordi Savall... el cant de la sibil-la...
catalunya... montserrat figueras...
la capella reial de catalunya...
why? she really doesn't have to talk during
*******... it's enough that her
onomatopoeias and ****** contortions are
apparent... i don't need "god" or god in
the bedroom, there is no need for words...
i don't need an instruction manual...
            i want to keep it as animal as possible...
vowels, vowels and consonants coupled...
but no instructions... no ***** talk...
i want the eyes to speak... in myths...
                       i'll get my way: i'm sure of it...

now, of course, it might not be the perfect Turkish
grammar...

sen dedim: inshallah...
Khadra... hangi en anlam: en Yeşil... Jannah...
sizin isim: renk benim iris... yeşil

you said: god willing...
Khadra... which... who am i fooling?
i'm trying to translate like an idoit...
   i don't even know the basics... of... Turkish...
bacl to sq. one... throw a bunch of nouns about...
green is yesheel... Khadra is a name given
to girls... the green grass of paradise...
oh... she's most certainly the green grass of paradise...
give me two more of these and i'll tell you
to stuff my former fancy of having 72 Alsatian shepherds
for company for all of eternity...

the western woman will not have a Monopoly
on my libido... to hell with it....
i've seen what canvases are already "taken care of it":
most? interracial: fat... ugly... seriously... ugly...
beached whale types... pink hair and... running
on steam... or whatever it is that they're running on...
i'm trying to think: orange juice?! please let it be
orange juice? no orange juice?! ****...
go figure... pink feminist hair...
i wouldn't touch that **** with a mile long stick...
i might get herpies... i'm pretty sure i wouldn't
get any with a *******...
oh, i know who's banking that ****'s worth of an
"account"... the African fresh off the boat...
the gene pool geniuses...
i would be forever barking up the wrong tree...
nature: harsh reality: as long as i get the right
sort of ****... Western women's arguments:
oh... but these women are being exploited...
are they? £120 an hour? i'm working ****** shifts as
a security guard... travel for 2 hours each way...
get paid for 5 hours...

i don't we're at a time to: bargain...
Western women are not that much... to think about:
or subsequently engage with...
mad dog ladies... Dubai prone...
sorry... there's only so much time you can waste
on pretending-it nuns...
i think i'll rephrase that: throw some nouns at
her like hieroglyphics... since i can't find the appropriate
conjunctions...

— The End —