Posts Tagged ‘freedom’

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.


“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…






What is it exactly you want from me? Stop beating me up! Otherwise I will lock you up! Stop telling me that you are the most important one, you know you are not. Everyone is equally important, if you peel all that concepts men made up!

“Yes, but not everyone think that way! Go and shop today! If you don’t listen to me, people will eat you up! They will push you with their eyes! They will bite you with their smiles! Because they listen to me so nicely, they do what I tell them to do. I tell them to sit, they sit, I tell them to stand up and shout , they stand up and shout, I tell them to stab backs while they  hug, they don’t just stab, they take the livers out! And you have to do that, too. You have two choices, either you allow them to eat you up, or I will constantly beat you up! You cannot lock me up, because even then you will feel crushed! “

Fighting monster,

Fighting the monster.

Shut up! That’s enough! I am not your puppet! You cannot pull and push me when you like! Those people, those sleep walkers! I will wake them up! They will never listen to you again!

“Oh, they are so much in love with me! They can do anything to protect me! Go and try the weakest looking one! She and all the others will tell you how idiot you are even though they agree with you deep inside! They fight, they argue, they rise, they groom, they shine, they have this , they have that and they want to have everything! They always will.And when you have something they don’t, they have to either have it, too, or they have to make you fall or fool! It is because I constantly frighten them! They live in an extreme fear! “

I see, you are right! BUT!

“But what?”

I want to be free!

“You are!They all are..Hahahah!!!”

No they are not!

“Well, at least they think they are!”

You are a monster!!!


Yes,I is!

I asked her secret, she smiled. She rose and smelled like a rose. She sang songs and rose. Not everyone heard, her silence told the most.

A lady approached, sat next to her, tried to talk. She heard no word. She sat, listened, listened, smelled the silence and smelled the rose. All the words she wanted to throw were now lost. They were now swallowed.As if they decided to hide under a giant rock.Her blue silence had vanished it all. The lady smiled, once again smelled the rose and took the road to her home. And that was the heart of all…

Silence of the Blue Rose...

Silence of the Blue Rose.

A man! He thought that  he thought! He was supposed to show that he could save us all. That was the thought he was told to hold. He rowed the boat, he rowed the boat and he shouted until he hurt his throats. He was a man and that was how he was supposed to row the boat. Without listening to Blue Rose. Without hearing what she really told. Did he need to get old to understand the Blue Rose? He was supposed to know, he was supposed to know, he was supposed to open all his unknown doors.Until he could see who was standing and shouting in that boat.He was not supposed to know it all or have it all to hear silence of the Blue Rose. Soon he was going to be lost, he did not know…That is when he was going to be free from all…

His eyes wanted no more. No, he was not tired, he was in joy. He was neither too young nor was he too old. He looked around, he appreciated it all. His walk was very slow. He looked at me, his eyes were soft like a blue rose, he smiled and walked. I heard him, his words dropped of his blue rose. He walked and I followed. He walked,I followed.,, And he disappeared in the middle of the road.

He was a human reflection of the Blue Rose…

A leaf fell…

Posted: April 28, 2015 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

A leaf fell of a tree, she flew. Did she feel the freedom, she had sought? She flew maybe not like a bird but she did. Was she finally free? She stopped only after a few yards, as the wind stopped. She was by another big tree. Wind began again and she flew. Was she free?  Maybe she was. Was she free, was she dead? That’s how it seemed , maybe she was still there, on the top of the tree. Wind took her away again…

A leaf of freedom...

A leaf of freedom…

The tree did not seem to care but she did. All the other leaves sang a goodbye song for her. She felt it deeply but it was time for her to go. They knew they were not able to give her freedom but love. This was the only way for them to be free but the little leaf did not understand.The tree was the lover of the earth, she had discovered freedom that was hidden within love, long ago. Her freedom was within her love, did not have to fly neither too high nor too far to find it.

The little leaf was now on top of a roof under which she heard sounds of love echoing like she used to hear from her sister leaves. It was cold, she wanted to go inside, the wind was not around, but the same sound. Sound of love. Where was the wind?, she asked. There he was, and she flew again…

The rain came and the weak she became. Freedom was no longer her friend. She did not say it but she missed the tree. She had been on the roof of a church for days and months. She was now scared of the wind, he was no longer welcoming. She wanted to move , she could not.” Am I free, am I dead?”, she asked. She was neither alive nor dead, she realized.” Was I ever free?”, she wondered, she could not find the answer.

And one day wind came and took her back to the earth. Wind knew that, she was now free…

“You look too thoughtful and sad for a beautiful young lady!”,said  all of a sudden a white-black and dark blue coloured bird,  in the middle of her spring song.

“You, too, and that makes me think even more.”, replied young lady in her late twenties while the Sun ,that had brought  lovers and kids together  in the green area neighbouring the river earlier, was painting the sky into red in Southbank.

“Why?”,asked stateless bird’s eyes.

Birds in a philosophical conversation.

“You have the best freedom in the world, what makes you think that deep and feel sad? We, human beings, have never fought for anything more than we did for freedom and still we are not as free as we want. Most of us envy you, but you don’t seem to be happy either.

“Oh, I am ok actually. It is only that my eyes and my mind are not happy with each other.”

“You sound cute, but what do you mean by that?”

“I see the world in a way you can never see and I always  try to see nice things but it is still hard for me to understand what you, human beings, do on such a beautiful earth like this.”

“For example?”

“For example, I have always tried to understand why you always fight down here. You said, you think it is all about more freedom? Is it really?

Yes and about equality!”

“Is that the reason why you kill each other?” asked curiously and landed in her shoulder. One was more beautiful and irritatingly curious than another now.

She had never imagined to be questioned by the most innocent looking species on earth and left speechless for a while .Thames River’s old and cold face, that had the loudest screams of the most tumultuous time, was now locked in her eyes .It had never looked that green before and never had that much moss, but it did in them. One child from Palestine cried and asked where his mother was behind the big wall, the other one from Israel asked why she could not play with him on the other side. None of them understood what made them enemy to each other. A young girl in Iraq couldn’t even find her father’s grave and stayed still her fist on her heart on a Friday. She opened her arms and asked God not to let that happen to anybody again in her pray.

Thames was as restless as her heart and her eyes were as wet as Thames now. Colourful beauty on her shoulder couldn’t dare to leave her in that state and they travelled to millions of other worlds together in the deepest part of the river. She had never felt like that before neither under the whitest clouds in a blue sky nor on top the most magnificent mosque, church or synagogue .Her wings lost their significance on these shoulders somehow.

The sky was blood red like Libya’s streets now and it was getting a little cold. Darkness was going to rule the city for a while from now on but the Sun was going to come back and light this part of the world again. The stars were going to collect the most innocent dreams of the kids one more time and leave them more hope to make them fight better tomorrow. They were soon going to find out that they have to fight for whatever they want in this world. They were going to have to fight for freedom, justice and of course for the universal dream peace which we all failed to provide them when they came to us. Unfortunately they were going to fight even for their basic human rights just like Tunisians, Egyptians and Libyans…Were any of us going to get rid of this guilt and sleep well at all?

“Are you sure it is about freedom and equality?” said and moved her left wing up for a change. Do you kill animals, do you destroy the nature for your freedom, too?

“No that is the result of our survival on earth.”

“I don’t think so young lady .You, human beings, die and kill  just to dominate one another! Do you know why you do that?”


“You all love controlling one another and hate being controlled by others. You all have a secret desire to be the one who knows the most  and controls everything and everybody in the world. Some of you call that God, some call it inexplicable power.”

“Not all of us.”

“You all do at different level. Those who are victims of this thought victimize rest of you. Therefore your fight for freedom, justice and peace will never end.”

“It will, we will bring the peace  to the world  that we all dream of every day.”

“Even if you do, I won’t be able to see it.”


“My life is only six months and I am three months old already. I better go now.”

“Wait! I want to ask you something!”


“Will you promise me that you won’t tell all those things, that  you told me, to any child? We will bring peace and justice to their world, they won’t have to fight for freedom as hard as we do.”

“I can’t promise you that, kids need to know the truth!”  said and flew thoughtful bird.

She was now in her deepest thoughts. “I love your colourful wings!” ,shouted behind her and walked home with the Moon .

Freedom was on sale in the vanity street’s overly lit shops and young women were choosing the colour and the style of their freedom , with many others around them before young Saturday got inflamed .The music was extremely loud, distractive, suggestive, and daring and was getting infused into young bloods and minds with no permission. It was setting millions of colourful birds free in their currency.

Every look was a little explosion flamed with their deepest frustration and confusion. These women,their eyes had the picture of their weekly captivity. They were all thirsty for a sip of freedom that they couldn’t even define. Were they ever going to taste it?

A woman statute in a glass cubicle.

The answer was ironically standing in the middle of the giant shop. A colourless sad looking young woman’s statute was sat in the corner of the glass cubicle and wrapped with yesterdays’ newspapers. Her eyes were closed just like her doors, her way was blocked and her window was covered with the same old papers. Her hands were free but her mind was handcuffed. Wasn’t that the picture of these young women’s caged souls that they were trying to find in new clothes, new bag and new shoes? Wasn’t that the biggest sarcasm of all times?

A woman in high heels and shinny leggings walked in the shop and passed by the glass box. Her hair was as red as her bleeding heart and her lips were coloured with the blood of murdered fox whose skin was now keeping  her body warm. But that wasn’t enough. She was looking for another one to extend her freedom that was now on sale. And she was supposed to hurry, not think even for a minute, but hurry. Everything was thought and everything was ready. All she needed to do was to hurry until her purse was empty. But was that going to stop her heart from bleeding?

She picked a few of the hung items and went to the fitting room to try them on her marketed body. “Any good?” ,asked the staff with a standardized smile on her face when she got out of FITTING ROOM. Where or what were all those women trying to fit in, in those little rooms?

“Hmm, I am not sure, I want something, something like …Oh I don’t know.”, she replied. Yes, she really didn’t know what was taken away from her .And those clothes were not going to bring that back. She felt it but she couldn’t describe it. They were not good enough to heal the hole in her soul which was bigger than the one she stylishly had on her leggings just below her million times sexualised and commercialised bum. Was she ever going to recover?

“They all look lost, don’t they?” asked the woman, surrounded with misinformation of old newspapers in the  glass cubicle, to her mad looking friend.

“You sound like you are recovering .But, yes for the first time you are right. They don’t seem to know what they are looking for, why they are in such a sneaky place like this.”, replied the mad one.“Look at their face, they have no expression any longer, they are all frozen, just like how you looked before you ended up here.”

“Be careful we might end up in a bloody dark glass. Don’t forget we are not allowed to talk, they might turn us into human again. God, that was painful! ”

“Oh, I don’t think you will ever recover. But at least you could have chosen to be frozen in a better mood. Sometimes it feels like a psychiatry ward in here.”

“And you always look mad, why did you choose that?”

“It was less painful my dear and it still is less painful!”

“When we were human looking for freedom, when we didn’t know that our freedom was murdered and sold us in those colourful big shops, bars, clubs and flights to farthest countries. When we didn’t know our freedom was limited with our bank account, how else did you try to taste the freedom?”

“Well, you really confuse me now. You sometimes manage to make sense with your malicious knowledge. But when I was human, I and most women were infected with the same thought. We really believed that our freedom was in between our legs and we all tried to taste it in sex. But that was only a sip of real freedom.”

“What if they realise that they have no real freedom and want to come  here and be a statue like us?”

“Oh, shut up, that will take them ages.”

Whether you are a student or you have a full time job, maybe you are a manager  or you are a boss, whether you like what you do  or not we all like Fridays .As much as we like Fridays we hate Mondays. Why?

Monday morning. You wake up early when it is still dark. You don’t feel like eating anything but you need to wake up properly so you make a cup of strong coffee and you  leave home very quietly.

We all like fridays .

God! People on the street  are running and looking so stressed. So quiet, all you hear is their  footsteps. Sometimes it reminds  you of an army. Yes ,it is true. We are all part of the same army who fight to survive and who fight for better all the time. You are now familiar with some of the faces  that  you see every morning. Every face tells you something, they look into your eyes at least once which stimulates your and their  inner voices  early in the morning.

You are now at the stationwhich  is not very different form the street except it restricts people’s movements and makes them  push each other because of  the same worry or maybe fear they have.Unemployement!It is not so different if you drive, restrictions are everywhere. Pressure is on already before you  get to work.

Restrictions continue and get even worse at work, you  take endless orders whether you  like it or not. You  do what you   are told just like when you  were  taught when you  were  a child. You  meet  so many people from different cultures and different countries. They call it diversity which only works for big bosses’  bank account and brings them  more and more benefit. You need to tolerate all those differences regardless.

Your colleagues , some are genuine some are evil, but you  handle them ,well you have to. You are not even allowed to show your anger, are you? Most of them   die to control one  another and that makes you sick, but you still smile. You feel suppressed in everything you do.You know ,you are not the only one who feels that .Hierarchy bleeds all of you every day. The more people are suppressed the more they desire the  power to control  others .Endless fights for more power all and every day.

At the end of the day, you are on your way home, your legs are tired ,your  brain and your heart have been drained  by all those orders or maybe a little politely by all those requests. Your inner voice ,real you tells you that something is missing. You feel empty .Why?Because you have been banned from using your free will all day.Your existence is accepted only if you follow the rules.

That repeats every week day. What for? Just to earn some money to survive? You  go through that hell for five days to survive?  Really? No, no something is not right there.

In the modern society, none of us work  just  to survive .We all want more  and more money .Why?

Society recognises and identifies us  with what we  have. If you have a house in the city and another one by the beach and another one in abroad, if you have a luxury car of the best brand and a big company then you have a higher status than those who don’t have them. If you have a high status you have a power .If you have a power you have a voice.

What does power bring? When you have the power you can not be controlled .In fact ,the same society gives you right to make decisions on  behalf of those who have less money than you. Your voice is heard most.It is very clear that power brings more freedom.

Average person spends more than half of his life slaving at work to have more freedom.  He likes Fridays as he can do what he wants int the following two days as long as he affords. This is very important ,”as long as he affords”. His freedom is in his wallet. However he still enjoys the weekend .

Those who have enough freedom  to make the rules in society work even harder to stay in power all week. So they  like Fridays ,too. The weekends  are the only opportunity for them to have a break from the feeling of loss of what they have that brings them more freedom .

We all like Fridays as much as  we like freedoms.