Listen / By Robert Boldon  
Listen my life depends on you hearing me
My soul echo out the words I love you into the endless frame of space ,traveling the speed of light, breaking down into atom waves molecules transform into tiny dew drops of dust evaporating into the lungs of insects that need it for survival itself water. That the breath of me be used to breathe out the words I love you.
Listen my life depends on you hearing me
    The very wind that comes from the creator of all righteousness   God almighty Himself, has bestowed  the thoughts’ of eternal life after death onto who ever should believe in hem and have faith                 onto the morning light that brighten you day the sun. At night the moon that lights your way, cascading off the mountings illuminating trails unseen by the naked eye reflecting your way home.
Listen my life depends on you hearing me  
Dreams of warriors winning the battle, returning back home to the ones that truly love them for who they really are, not just some sadistic man, woman , child  killer that roams  the earth looking for unarmed innocent bystanders that fit the description of so called terrorist,hiding weapons of mass destruction that are never found.      
                                                                                            Listen my life depends on you hearing me
Rivers ran red that will take years to purify dew to the fact that there were no weapon’s found. But still bodies found floating with no head no limb’s, no description of male or female, ground soaked with blood so thick it turn to mud ,crud . As far as the eye can see there is no love, help that will never come screams of the wounded that will never be heard, waiting their turn to die, As their villages burn down disintegrating into ash , The animals from the nearby jungle pick through half alive bodies on their last breathe, too weak to scream, fade away like a bad dream.
Listen my life depends on you hearing me
The ones that get away seek revenge, holding the last laugh in knowing they’ve lost their mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers infants ,cousins the whole dozen/memories ricochet off of fractured skulls from renegades  in today’s time would be on the front page, Captured -Rage.
Listen my life depends on you hearing me
Even now as I come to a close saturated tears, socket your makeup stained face’s, under garments’ laced with pity and shame taking place of pride and joy, waves of emotion tug at your heart in soul thinking this isn’t the way the story was supposed to be told, nor the visions that have taken hold of your reality of unseen grief, Bodies on the ground bodies on the street.  
Listen my life depends on you hearing me

the face of yours the life appended a little sign
is like a cinema you touched on my forehead
a cold soda between the two acts
the lyric voice of the gong ringing hourly
the falling shadows of the buckthorn trees
a sky broken on a day of wind
form my frames of the sparrows left from the summer
the face of yours the life appended a little sign
is the alley of a district where the time is stopped
it is the ant, belonging to there, we meet
while touching the pebbles with our toes
who knows when, where, instantly
we had smelt a rain they dropped inside us
the face of yours the life appended a little sign
is the riverside, when I propped my mouth
the crotch wet I steal, form the times when there are no male
something which is garnet, a volcano
on the booms of which daisy, lily and some lime are piled
like cevdet anday says
“mountings are aside, we are aside”


Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)

It hardly matters to the man of letters
if you hear him,
he
wins anyway, ten to one
on the track today and
what way do you matter
anyway?

Twenty-one thousand four hundred and nine
and what a waste of my precious time counting them in
let us begin
but we never end
send me a Kelly,
machine gun
some jelly
and blow, but
we know
men and letters
much better than I
live to let die
and I ask you why we
do
I ask
but you
never answer me.

In this trophy room
groomed and dressed
wall mountings are best
although Tigger carpets
the floor,
I want more than
a glimpse,
the reality limps
away from me
I abscond
fragile into
my own fantasy,
the man of letters knows better
and says nothing.

I really cant see the good in myself,

and I'm not doing to well with my emotional health.

sat hear thinking of years long ago,

a time way back when joyfull months would go slow.

a long while back, before my mid teens,

when life seemed simple

filled with prospects and dreams,

a smile would follow a feeling inside,

and now the smile is there but something has died,

none of us learn to laugh or to cry,

that comes to us natual like the stars in the sky.

and the mountings and ocean,

perfect emotion,

perfect beings

no internal corrosion.

we are all born a mirrical

and as from day one,

the light shines bright

to help guide us along.

But as i grew older and thought I new best,

I egnoed those I loved and followed the rest.

my life choices all wrong,

once drugs came along,

but the desire to use was always so stong.

only happy when using,

body and mind I'm abusing,

destorted thinking and life seems very confusing.

as time passed by

i never stopped getting high,

still unaware of the damage inside,

now I sit and I sy,

wanting to cry,

but the tears inside me seem to have dried.

so I become aggressive n i shout,

because it needs to come out

this only further hurts those that I care about

but as I sit all alone and i look at the sun,

it reminds me

that when the rain ends

then change can be done.

and change must be made

because I know ov this much,

I no longer want to be out of touch...