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It is red hot outside and cicadas are singing …or are they screaming, I am not quite sure but I can feel the joy in their tone. There is a middle aged couple in the pool trying to challenge time but I can see the pain in their love…Children laugh with fear of their dependency in the corner of their eyes with the most beautiful sparks…I look at the immortal mountains and walk back inside…

I always write at the table,I don’t want to do that anymore. So I am sitting under the table on the hard floor and typing. No I am not trying to be different or crazy.I am fucking bored…no maybe not bored but maybe a little tired…no,maybe not even tired but sick…sick? No, maybe not even sick but all of it…tired of chasing love and end up with disappointment…bored of hearing the same talk everywhere I walk…sick of games little creatures play to feel superior to each other…tired of the hot weather that makes me sleepy in the climax of my dialogue with the Infinite Consciousness…I mean I hate it when I find myself hugging an angel as soon as I close my eyes while trying to go beyond consciousness and wake up screaming as she turns into a murderer. I constantly feel betrayed these days…yes, that is it…I feel betrayed…

fire of life

No, I am not yet enlightened, I know that. They say if you think you are enlightened go and spend a week with your parents. I cannot stand to hear my mum’s voice even over the phone. Yes I have forgiven her but what she did to me still hurts…it hurts no matter how much I grow…Well, anyway, let’s forget about that…God must have chosen the wrong angel for me when I arrived in the world…maybe it is too soon to say that because I am not in the end yet…but I am ready…cause I never hurt anyone unless I had to take revenge…yes, that is the only feeling I cannot resist…God how will I learn that?

I have been burning with the desire to sing Adele’s song as fiery as her ever since I heard it without knowing why. Here are the lyrics:

“There is a fire starting in my heart,

Reaching a fever pitch,

It is bringing me out the dark,

Finally I can see you crystal clear

Go ahead and sell me out

And I’ll lay your shit bare.”

Now I know why the song has been burning me every time its notes reached my ears. It is about everything I have been feeling about life and love…it is about disappointment of love, betrayal and revenge…obviously an angel has turned into to a bloody murderer in her life, too. She is bleeding…but still there is a joy in that… I can feel it. Joy of expressing her heart, joy of making art…even cicadas want that, too. They scream all day long…maybe they don’t make art but they are the art…but if they have heart they have fire…so they have to express their fire…fire of being…fire of love…fire of life…they have to tell us how it feels to burn…

 

 

 

 


Story of a Good Rat

Someone knocked at my door a day after the big confrontation by the pool. It was a soft knock but not hesitant. I knew there was a woman behind the door but I still looked through the eye hole. It was her, standing there with her thoughtful even worried eyes which have almost lost their sparks. She was known as a rat, rat Rezzan, in the neighbourhood but I did not believe that. So I opened the door with a big sincere smile.

She was so thin as if she had just escaped from a famine. It hurt me to look at her, I was overwhelmed by the river of my own compassion. There was an untold tragedy standing by me, all my cells could sense that. She smiled in her red shorts and white t-shirt. Her arms were thin and had scars of hard work…hard work that had lasted too long. Her legs were thin, too.

“Please sit,” I said and showed her the creamy white sofa in the living room and asked: “What would you like to drink?”

She smiled and looked into my eyes that were searching warmth and understanding in mine. She wanted to know how welcomed she was and I smiled wider to let her know that she was very very welcome like she was never before.

“Thank you very much, I really don’t want to drink anything. I have come to talk,” said she as she walked towards the creamy white sofa. She sat and crossed her legs, she was not more than forty five kilogram. I sat next to her.

goodnees

“I was having a breakfast but I could not,” said she and she looked concerned.

“Why?” I asked.

“I thought I had to tell you not to worry if two women from last night knock on your door in this morning,” she replied.

“Why do they want to do that? I told them all I knew about him…it is their job to think how he could harm them,” I said.

“No, no…it is not like that…this is  now matter of life and death…none of us slept after you had left last night…everybody was so devastated…they all feel unsafe now.Did you think that was the end?”

“Yes, was it not?”

“No, it was the beginning…that man is going to have to leave this place…people will not stop until they discover the whole truth,” said she.

“I told the truth,” I replied.

“No…they know you know more,” said she.

“No, I don’t…I told them what I knew,” I said.

“They want to know more!” said she as she opened her eyes wide and stood up.

“Well, I don’t know more,” said I and stood up, catching a little bit of her panic.

“They think you know…tell them what you know…there is no way back…everything changed when you talked last night,” said she and walked towards the door in a secretive manner.

“I see,” said I and walked her to the door.

“I must go, don’t be surprised when they come…and they are not bad people…they all have your back…they don’t want anyone bad to live in this neighbourhood…he has to go to hell, that man- heartless paedophile,” whispered she, holding the door handle, her eyes hardly contained her inner turmoil and her little body.

“Okay, thank you,” said I in the same secretive manner. Well I was already surprised, asking myself whether she did not want to let those women to taste sweetness of surprising even shocking me by their visit but she wanted to do it instead or whether she came here just because she could not help being a rat. I was confused but I knew she was not a bad rat, she, too, was a soldier of goodness on earth.

“I am going now, take care…yeah?” said she and walked out softly. She climbed down the purple stairs quietly, looked back and smiled once again before she disappeared. I waved at her, wondering what kind of hell’s door I had opened last night.

I closed the door, wondering what I was going to hear from the other two women who had attacked me the night before. I could hear bells of my stomach, my head was like an ant nest where billions of ants lived with no rest and it was hard for me to keep my eyes open. My phone rang. I walked towards the table and looked. It was my ex next door whom I never talked to due to an unbridgeable gap between us. I had blocked her number straight after we met for the first time but it seemed like what I knew had made her restless, too…just like the ants in my head. I employed one of the ants in my head to talk to her before picking my phone. It was a collective issue after all…and it was not her, she did not dare talk.

Two women came following that phone call and went with no event despite the great disappointment of their discovery. They looked more shocked than they did the night before. And they did not blame me for telling the truth but they were still not sure what to do about him, woman hater paedophile whom they used to respect and sought comfort like their granddad. What they were going to do was going to determine my location and reputation, too. It was a risk that I took but I was never going to regret it. The bigger risk was to become a close friend with such a man in order to discover the truth. The biggest risk was to allow him to think and believe that one day he was going to be in my bed despite his psychopathic traits and old age. Men are mad like that. They really believe that they can do anything they want in life, the world is their playground. Hence hardly a few of them truly grow up. Everyone was learning a lot from what happened and was going to learn more what was going to happen.

Rezzan came back again next morning.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” said she. I told you she was a good rat. She was wearing a green t-shirt. Her short, thick, curly hair had some grey in the front.

“No, not really,” I replied, thinking about the real reason of her regular morning visits.

“You should have seen how men reacted…they all met again last night…they will kick this paedophile bastard out of this place by law…you will see they will do that. This is not a joke…this is our honour…he has to go,” said she as she walked towards the creamy white sofa before I offered. I was a little surprised to see how deeply they believed what I said without knowing me so well. I hardly communicated with them but I always wished them well.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed quietly. Only psychopaths could exclaim loudly in this place. The walls were too thin to give anyone sense of a proper privacy. We had so many issues that violated our privacy and reported it to young rich landlord who listened to us insensibly and probably laughed out loud after hanging up the phone.

“Yes, I think they were already suspicious of him somehow but they just could not put their finger on it,” said she in her own secretive way when I sat next to her on creamy white sofa.

“Of course they were…how couldn’t they be? This man was always drunk…the only reason why people kept quiet was because of his age,his money…and-and he was so good at lying…and he bullied the weak ones when they did not believe him…and I think people needed someone to care for them, someone older with wisdom and compassion…he pretended to have and offered them to women to make his way to their beds,”

“Once, he shouted at me like a little child and said: ‘You are a tenant here, you don’t even own an inch of a land, know your place and keep quiet!’” she explained, her lips trembled and she was in tears. I wanted to see that old paedophile hanged or drowned in the middle of the pool where he had secret orgasms by watching little girls and women in their bikinis, took their pictures, as her tears rolled down on her bony cheeks covered with dry and wrinkled thin skin. She was a forty-nine years old divorcee with no kid of her own. And he knew that…but that was before I exposed him. All his fantasies to have a young lover like me while harassing every other woman and little girls as an old, respectable superintendent of two blocks of apartment, all his power over people, all the joy he used to get from abusing the house keeping staff died in one night. I felt proud of myself for the first time after that night.

“So nobody stood by you back then?” I asked.

“No, they uttered no word…I know why they did that…they did that because I am a woman who does not depend on a man…and a woman with no man worth nothing in their heads,” said she.

“It must be so dark in their heads,” I said.

“It is dark everywhere in this land…the Sun comes and goes but it is still dark here,” said Rezzan in tears. I knew she was a good rat in search of love…

 

 

 

 

 


Dawn is breaking here. Here where I still feel like an outsider. Hence I am never here. Where am I? Sometimes sitting right beside you watching you waking up next to someone else, loving your dreams in her, loving yourself in her, searching deeper meaning of life in your togetherness…but why is there still shadow of worry in the corner of your blue eyes, I whisper in your ears. You walk to bathroom and look into mirror.

“Everything is fine,” you say to the man in the mirror, trying to avoid his fears and invisible tears. You walk into the little cubicle to have a shower. Water cools you and I touch you softly with my deepest love.

“God, water is the best miracle,” you say as you walk out without seeing me there.

love letter

You feel nervous all of a sudden as you dry your body because you remember that you left your mobile in the bedroom. Do you cheat on her…yes you do…some part of you is still not satisfied…I wonder what can fill that void of yours because I know it is not who…no one can handle that task. You go out and take your phone without disturbing her. You wonder whether she checked your phone and you look at her with a subtle anger…you know it is not her it is you…you are angry with yourself but you never admit that. You dress up, wear your perfume…everything looks perfect on you until you push them all into the shadow of your pride.

She wakes up, you wear your manly smile that is broken with your pride. You don’t want her to know what power she has over you…you don’t want her to know that she has something you desperately need…you keep telling her “I love you darling,” but she knows how much you mean it and how much you don’t. She smiles and gets out of bed. And this invisible distance becomes apparent to her all of a sudden…you cause it to expand…she feels it but she lies to herself as it confuses her. Why do you still do that to women who come to you wholeheartedly…are you scared of being left alone again…don’t be…not everyone is a mad truth seeker like me…not everyone is in existential crisis like I was when I was with you…not everyone is crushed by dishonesty early in life like and developed some trust issue I had…yes I did not tell you about it, did I…because you assumed that I had never had a wound in my entire life…you never asked…you either could not stand to see me bleeding in words or maybe you really did not care…or maybe all you cared about was to have a beautiful and smart woman standing next to you…you were so excited to impregnate me…lock me in your house with your kids thinking that that was what I really wanted…but it was not…I did not come to this world to bear your kids and spend rest of my life bringing them up just to be rarely appreciated…I have learnt how to appreciate myself, thank you very much…no that was not the life I had in my mind but you never asked…your dream was supposed to be mine…and I was gone while still standing there, staring at you.

love letter

 

“Love you, too,” says she shallowly as you walk down on the stairs. She does not walk you to the door. You secretly resent but don’t tell a word…why would you…that would be too weak…you walk out leaving so many tests for her to reveal her real self…you did that for me , too…I mean what the heck was that for…why did you not talk…did you think everyone was a liar like you were…yes that was it, wasn’t it…but every test you left behind was a proof of who you actually were…don’t do that to her…she might walk away, too, one day.

You get in your car and drive…I am sitting next to you…you vaguely see a butterfly on your left side…you look for no apparent reason and see the empty seat in the middle of enjoying infinite freedom roads generate within you like they used to do…you cannot see anything but you hear a vague voice and look again…you feel drawn and you eventually touch the seat…

buuterfly

“Bloody weird,” you say to yourself and turn up the music. I can fuck your morning joy, making you feel even weirder but I don’t because I still love you…and my love does not dictate you to lead your life in my way…it has never done that to any man I liked…I say l liked because you were the only man who I loved and you still are…I send you love and hold on to my dreams not yours…I send you love and I will always do while pursuing my dreams…while you bringing up your kids…sorry I could not make you one because I could not be cruel enough to push a child into this world just to see how it feels to be a mother…I am working to save them all instead…I do not wish to be the mother of one but of all children on earth…I am working to show them the light…

 


The Orchids’ Prayer

No it was not love…he knew it was not…she could feel it was not but wanted to believe that it was…at least for a little while…she looked strong like an oak but she was an orchid on the inside…yes that is right she was fragile…the world was cruel…she was fragile…the world was cruel…she was fragile…the world was cruel…and she was stubbornly fragile…to believe in love…it made him feel weak to love someone who was not strong enough to survive without his love…she was too fine not to see that in his eyes…which lied…which lied… he felt smart as he lied…he felt more manly as he lied…he thought he could conquer her world…he thought he could destroy her with his lies…but some part of his cried inside…some of part his died…she was too fragile to fight…too divine to let him drown…no it was still not yet love…she still smiled…stood like an oak…but still fragile inside…

orchid

Yes it was a defeat…how could he have accepted it…the world was cruel…he was brutal…how could he have accepted it…it was an oak he had destroyed…it was an orchid he had drowned…how could he have accepted it…the world was cruel…he was brutal…but still beaten…still defeated…how could he have accepted it…he was ashamed…filled with guilt and disappointment…no oak…no divine look…no weak orchid…but disappointment…guilt…defeat…laughter of his demons…how could he have accepted it…he stood on the top of his roof…to destroy the defeated brute…he looked at the Moon…he looked at it again…he was ashamed…orchid was there…he heard her prayer…love he said…how weak…how blind…how dark…how ignorant I was he said…orchid cried with grace….she prayed…he looked at the roof…he looked the brute who stood on the roof…he looked at the Moon…Orchid prayed…she still loved him with grace…he could not forgive the brute…and he pushed him…God, said he as he began to fall…Love said he as he continued to fall…Light whispered he when he lay on the ground…Orchid prayed…people learned to love the brute in the Moonlight…Orchid prayed…people prayed…They smelled orchids…

“Orchids,” they said and the Orchids prayed.
“Grace,” they embraced and the Orchids smiled.
“Love the brute,” Orchids whispered and people smiled. Tears dried…

Morning Verses…

Posted: April 28, 2017 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , ,

Hello everyone,

Here are some verses to murder your fears.

morning verses

Have a wonderful creative weekend…


Why Do I Write?

I slept 12 hours. I wanted to meditate but that would send me back to sleep. So I washed my face with cold water, I looked at the mirror. I hardly remembered where I left myself yesterday, who I was planning to become, what did I become when I last stared at the mirror but I heard the same command over and over again.

“WRITE!”

“I nodded and opened my curtains.

“Oh God! SUN!  How beautiful, how sublime!” I exclaimed, standing in the balcony.

“WRITE!” exclaimed back sun. Write about me, write about my beauty!” said she.

I nodded once more and a big white bird sang in the sky and the little ones followed her chanting, craze of spring in the wings.

“Don’t forget to include us in your stories!” they begged.

I nodded once more and was about to walk back in. Three big mountains called me back.

“Hey, wait!” they yelled. I looked at them.

“We know how much you love us. It is not only you who look at us with grace and admiration in your eyes every morning , tell everyone how much we love them, tell them to look and see everything with love,” they said with no word.

I nodded again and was going to walk back in.

 

“Hey, you! Can I be the best looking homeless dog in your story?” asked a dog, standing by the big black gate with no one but a freedom with no boundary. Yes, humans’ love for animals was not yet commercialized in this land with lots of minarets.

“I love you doggy, you are the most aristocratic dog of the streets,” I said when the cat joined us and exclaimed while jumping from one roof to another.

“Meow!” said she naturally of course but I knew what she meant.

woman writing

 

“I know what you mean you, the freest bitch!” I said and smiled. And I finally walked in. Someone knocked on the door.

“I brought you tea and some pastries,” said my old womanizer neighbour. I knew what he meant, too, but I smiled. Though not so wide because he could easily twist my smile. He looked at me and expected me to invite him for breakfast. He was full of love but in trouble with his cock. I looked at him. He found it hard to control his cock and put his hand in his side pocket. And I knew what he did that for.

“I know what you mean, it is hard for men to have a pure love for women but I think yours is different…yours is some kind of disease…what did you do here on earth for all those years… how did you spend your life so carelessly…” I said in silence.

“WRITE!” commanded silence once again in his stare.

“Are you going to write today, too?” asked he, my hand on the red hot tea.

“Yes,” said I.

“I will go climbing today…you should join me one day…animals might inspire you, too,” suggested he, but I knew what he meant.

“Maybe,” I said and smiled but not so wide. That would drive his cock wild.

“Okay then,” said he and stepped back, still hoping to see me smiling like a child whom he could deceive with a candy.

“Enjoy your adventure with animals,” said I and I laughed but not so loud and not so apparent only inside. That would drive his cock wild.

I closed the door as he walked to his flat, already trying to console his crying cock.

“WRITE!” said the red hot tea and fresh pastries. I agreed without knowing what. I don’t think I was completely awake yet. I should have never slept that long. Maybe I should play some Arabic music; that might help, I thought to myself as I held the glass of tea by my upper lip.

“Oh no…what if he put something in it to make all his fantasies come true…no no I should no drink this,” I said to myself and poured it into the sink.

“Shame,” I said and smiled as I fed the birds with the fresh pastries in the balcony.

“Stop fooling around! Birds know how to hunt foods! Just WRITE!” whispered the trees; the dark green, light green, orangey green and yellowish green.

“You write to be immortal, don’t you?” asked the shadow of the lady, still standing in the balcony on my left.

“Fuck you woman! Why would I care whether I live in your fucking mind when I die or not…I am in an endless agony, which leaves me only when I write…it might kill me…I might die if I don’t write,” I said to her shadow.

“You write to get back to someone, don’t you?” said the old editor with big belly and little talent to write but insatiable appetite to criticize those who do, turning the possibly poisonous pastries into a TED stage. But none of the birds felt dizzy or fell on the ground yet. Maybe it was just me and my broken trust in my womanizer neighbour. Maybe they were really fresh pastries after all.

“Go fuck your big belly and your distorted mind, you idiot!” I shouted at the old editor and walked back in. I felt so good when I saw my next door whore in the opposite apartment as I closed the curtain. She tried to drive me insane but pathetically failed with her idiot fucker. She had to move to the other apartment where both of her next doors are policeman. Yes, she cannot fuck with them. Now she knows how to fuck quietly but sadly her coward fucker left her. She could have asked me how to fuck quietly before all that though.

“ARE YOU GOING TO WRITE or NOT?” asked dead authors in my shelf.

“Yes, I will but there is something in my head, it is like it is no longer my head …maybe first I should shout aimlessly…loud and with no aim just to pour out my never ending craze…or maybe stretch myself to the point where I could reach the mountains…or maybe I should have a shower with a very cold water until I scream…I don’t know my head does not feel like mine anymore…I know I am here to write…this is why I was sent to this earth no matter what any fucker thinks why I write…oh God! What shall I do to break this egg?”

I found it, I will play Arabic music and dance like a mad until I sweat …until I sweat like I used to when I was a cheap worker…no I am not trying to get back to anyone…but to myself… how did I blindly give away my power in those years…how did I ignore this divine voice when it was little…

Shaking belly is good, better than trying to understand nonsensical creatures around you…Try it but don’t try writing until you hear this constant command everywhere…

“WRITE!”

 

 

 


I was so kind…so kind…even too kind…too kind to be true…so gentle like an angel…my soul was like a feather of a baby bird…I was not even able to feel it most of the time…but I was a human…no other human could comprehend that…nor was I able to believe they were humans…I was right they were not…because they ate me alive day by day…bit by bit…day by day…more and more…but I was not finished…and they were so annoyed…

They wanted me to either die or develop some kind of demons in my feather like delicate soul. I refused they attacked,I refused they attacked, I refused they attacked , I refu…they attacked…I ref…they attacked…I re…they attacked…I r…they attacked…they must have attacked more after that…they must have…they must have drunk my blood…humans…they do that a lot…they love that…and they think they love dogs…humans have forgotten what love was…

feather

And one day I woke up but I was different…I was still human…but I had irresistible urge to harm…I had invincible doubts about everyone…I was unable to sleep in the dark…I think…I think…yes I think I wanted to kill the dark…I wanted to attack…I wanted to control…I wanted to hurt and rule…I want to be more important than everything and everyone on earth…I wanted to see millions bow in front me…I want to kill the ones who refused it…I wanted to kill the passivists, I wanted to kill the activists…and I did…unless they wanted to kill, too.

But I knew…I knew I had never won…no human on earth had won…but demons…and one day I decided to kill myself… I decided to kill myself in front of millions…just to kill all the demons in every human…and I did…and I become like a feather again…demon-free like a feather…