Monday, April 21, 2014

A pair of scales

Vast croplands, indigo clouds
empty stomachs around a table being set
a single poppy before wind
morning's touch and evening's smell
random acts of kindness

There are sparks of truth in everything
ancient stories and today's cheers
mixed with laments
what is to tell other than life's beauties
and man's injustice to man

Piercing swords, sneaky bullets
someone's bigger slice, someone's smaller hopes
poorly silvered mirrors
stab the light
in the eye

The body of the universe

An unworldly wind brushes dew drops,
leaves tremble
an early morning bird screeches and the skies
crack open
flip pages, ink dries
rays of light beat the drums of the suns
that tumble down the temples
to reach the eyes
and pull down their curtains.

cohesion of aspiring dawn and longing dusk
whispering secrets to each other

effortless absorptions
wordless revelations

some realms known to none
materialise and become one
and disappears to appear again
disseminates along hair roots, finger tips
chest-elevating melody swings
geography's letters melt away
lava meets icy waters
scented smoke rises
intoxicates minds
absolute clarity follows

night's cape brushes the continents
rocks of all shades chip away

magnetic colorful marbles
roll on the surface of skin cells
vibrating some unidentified flying emotions

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Time's Biography

No storm is here to stay
We were told,
A sacred dust in milky way
all that is,
Flowing, wading, flying up and down in a clock
between the two worlds through a rope,
the neck

Does it matter whether
a second or centuries old

Remove your shoes
We were told
and bow
before the lovingness of your own particules
all that is to stay
no clock, not even the dust

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Floating pavements

Sinatra said it all

to elaborate more:

life is as tiny
as a note to hang
in a trumpet's mouth
and swing
happily dizzy

yet as big as a heart
soaked in love

then stuff all the good things
you were a part of
into a capsule
and swallow

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Tea toasting

Buffalos, storks, reeds
and water lilies
peacefully share
a flooded forest

while my heart
can hardly host
joy, longing and hope
even with the help
of freshly brewed tea

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Goodbye Ideologies

Scents of flowers are the same as before. Color of dusk and dawn, the noise of a nutcracker on duty, the moon's slow, rhythmic dance...the same as before. The way lovers look at each other, taste of tears and sweat, a cat's stretching, peach blossoms, leaves falling, water splashing, a snake undressing...all the same.

Do we, humans change? Yes and no. People commit murder and save lives, they make love and make wars, they steal, oppress and they give presents, help others...the same as before. Yet excuses, motivations, justifications change...

We see modern ideologies evaporating day by day from the world stage. Ideas, human conditions, world views, theories and beliefs are so much circulated, exchanged through the wires, cables, signals that it becomes visible that they are not too different from each other, that whatever the envelops would be, "good" and "bad" are, have always been, the same. Just and unjust, cruelty and grace...simple as that. A Kazakh boy can play chess on the net with a Lithuanian girl, not even seeing each other. A Costarican and an Afghan can vote for a cause against an unjust detention in some country at the very same time without noticing one another.

Of course the residue of once-worshipped ideologies is still there and blurs the reality but at least no mass destruction can try to hide behind the skirts of any single ideology. Does that prevent atrocities, like killing of 80000 people in 2 years? Unfortunately, no.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Crying Under Sheep Placenta

"Regrets are a waste of time. They're the past crippling you in the present." says a light-soul-actress with a thick faux fur around her neck partially covering her bare chest...

I consider myself lucky, by the way, to live in the age of camera. Lots of faux lives parade before my eyes constantly reminding me of the life itself and that there are magic moments in each day, maybe more some days, just like this epiphany received in a most awkward situation:

While trying to prove that spring stopped by my face, under a facial mask made of sheep placenta, it actually settled in my heart replacing some tears that had long been waiting for a rendezvous with my eyes.

Yes, there is a giggling truth in this!  Cashmere touch of an unexpected rush of joy...

The idea of letting go of everything and realizing the real, naked beauty of life, the universe, the creation lightens me up.

There is a refreshing manifestation in this!

A newborn baby with plump lips,
tulip petals, wild strawberries and



Friday, April 5, 2013

Oriental Spring

Like an old Arabic song elevating in the air
Along with spice market humming
The earth takes off its pelerine here

Imagining bouquets of lilacs
How I wish to see you in my dreams
At least

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Emir's Mediterranean Cafe - Part 3

Elma fastened her eyes on Emir's adamsapple, still trying to catch her breath. And he started to uncover his medium rare idea after swallowing his palate's juice rushed suddenly into his mouth:

"Okay, what was I saying? Yes! We'r gonna rock guys, this cafe's gonna turn into a temple!"

Calcuta crossed his arms, the Chef shifted his weight to the other leg and rolled his eyes, Elma didn't move.

"A camera right there (pointing with his index finger, through the beaded curtain, at a dark corner inside), on all day long, for an entire week! how about that?" his eyes scanned everyone's faces to find sparks of excitement: "I will send the recording to the producer of that famous tv show with this weird name, gibbs or gibbos whatever". "Waning Gibbous" corrected Calcuta playing with the soon-to-be-lit cigarette in his hand. "Yes, that shit!..Imagine guys, if they like the atmosphere and what we go through they might shoot a few episodes here!"
The Chef started to rub his chin. Elma had already eaten the strawberry gloss off her lips when the old lady, a regular customer, sitting at the table behind the mac guy called her name with a piercing voice: "Elmaaaaa, pour some tea for me, pleeeeaase" and song#7 started: Petit Pays by Cesaria Evora.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Interactive Media: The New Mic

Human rights petitions, environment polls, anti-war / pro-peace campaigns, shared quotes to inspire one another,  humanitarian solidarity acts, rallies against rape and gender-based violence, anti-corruption movements...These occupy our minds and lives a great deal in recent years. The nature of civil reaction /resistence/interference has dramatically changed parallel to the technological progress.
Now, the themes circulating in global wires have a touch of goodwill, a cool rebellion, caused by the feeling of togetherness, connectedness and common destiny. Even ideological messages, which are still being exchanged extensively, are envelopped by this wave of trans-ideological, trans-religious verbal and imagery pokes that almost create the feeling of "rectifying the world".  A brave, perhaps beyond its depth, rhetoric baked everyday collectively and effortlessly by millions of "users" whips the creamy world agenda.
Internet, particularly social media, is the primary tool and medium for connecting, participating and recording where people easily and rapidly react to anything that bothers them and find many who share the same sentiment or thought as theirs. Any individual can start a cause or action that snowballs and becomes one of the "public" voices. Easy access to information, ideas and thoughts makes individuals more opinionated on almost everything compared to the past. "Sharing" itself, as a contemporary urge, is oftentimes more significant than that which is shared.
Everyone grabs a virtual microphone, shares stuff, retunes the global vibe and creates a realm beyond politics. More personalization feeds the sense of collectivity, isn't it ironic! Individuals probably feel belittled before the incredible number of "users" and at the same time they constantly construct their personal identities and value systems as they share, which makes them feel big. Again: Isn't it ironic!
Well, it's all good...