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A butterfly dream
Written: Turkey, 2007 All the gods are thinking togetherHow to give her a butterfly dream A butterfly is born in TurkeyAll she do is serving rosesAll she think is helping rosesNo wish to see what lies ahead herNo wish to serve the roses inside her All the gods are thinking togetherHow to give her a butterfly dream All brothers and no sisterShe learned the way, the ussual wayThe easy way, the prohibited wayA butterfly dream, she cannot seeA butterfly dream , she needs to seeShe has the strengthShe has the willBull all she know is serving rosesAll she know is helping roses All the gods are thinking togetherHow to give…
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Desire imprisoned
Written:2005,Stockholm central station ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ ﻛﯽ ﻗﻴﺪ ﻣﻴﮟ ‘ﺧﻮﺍﮨﺶ’ﻛﺴﯽ ﺑﮭﻮﻟﯽ ﮬﻮﺋﯽ ﺩﮬﻦ ﻛﻮ ﺩﮬﻮﻧﮉﻧﮯ ﻛﯽ ﻃﺮﺡﺧﻮﺩ ﻛﻮ ﮈﮬﻮﻧﮉﺗﯽ ﮬﮯﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ ﻛﮯ ﻃﻮﻳﻞ ﻗﻴﺪﺧﺎﻧﮯ ﻣﻴﮟ ‘ﺳﻮﭺ’ ﻛﮯ ﺗﮭﻜﮯ ﭘﻴﺮ’ﭼﻠﺘﮯ ﭼﻠﺘﮯ ﺗﮭﻚ ﻛﺮﺭﻛﻨﮯ ﻛﯽ ﺑﮭﻴﻚ ﻣﺎﻧﮕﺘﮯ ﮨﻴﮟﻣﮕﺮ ‘ﺧﻮﺍﮨﺶ’ ﻣﮕﺮ ﺧﻮﺍﮨﺶ ﺑﮭﯽ ﻛﻴﺎ ﻛﺮﮮﺟﺐ ‘ﮭﻮﺵ’ ﰷ ﰷﻻ ﺩﻳﻮﺍﭘﻨﮯ ﮨﺎﺗﮭﻮﮞ ﻣﻴﮟﻳﺎﺩ ﺳﮯ ﺑﮭﻴﮕﺎ ﮨﻨﭩﺮ ﻟﻴﺌﮯﻭﻗﺖ ﻛﮯ ﮔﺰﺭﻧﮯ ﰷ ﺍﺣﺴﺎﺱ ﺩﻻﺗﺎ ﮨﻮﺍﻭﺭ ﻛﮍﻭﯼ ﰷﻓﯽ ﻛﮯ ﭼﻮﺗﮭﮯ ﻛﭗ ﺳﮯ ﺑﮭﯽﺗﻤﮩﺎﺭﮮ ﻣﻴﺮﮮ ﺑﻴﭻﺻﺮﻑ ﺍﻳﻚ ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ ﰷ ﻓﺎﺻﻠﻪﺧﺘﻢ ﮨﻮﺗﺎ ﻧﻈﺮ ﻧﻪ ﺁﺗﺎ ﮨﻮ
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Desire
Written: 2002, PK ‘Desire’, like a horse losing a raceruns long till the endon the race track of ‘life’And the jockey of ‘thoughts’with a hunter of ‘memories’ in his handputs all his anger, on the horse named ‘desire’And then, giver her to eatlittle grass of ‘hope’, and water of ‘dreams’…’Desire’ livesto run long at the end of another racelike a horse losing a raceeating the little grass of ‘hope’and drinking the water of ‘dreams’thinking perhaps…she may not have to run longafter another race‘desire’ lives…..
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Hit by the bed..
Written: 2002,PK In the last hours of night, ……………………………………… ﺭﺍﺕ ﻛﮯ ﺁﺧﺮﯼ ﭘﮩﺮ waking up, out of thirst …………………………………….. ﭘﻴﺎﺱ ﺳﮯ ﻧﻴﻨﺪ ﻣﻴﮟ ﺍﭨﮭﺘﮯ bringing water …………………………………………………………. ﭘﺎﻧﯽ ﻻﺗﮯ The bed of ‘life’ abruptly asked ………………. ‘ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ’ ﻛﮯ ﺑﺴﺘﺮ ﻧﮯ ﺍﭼﺎﻧﻚ ﭘﻮﭼﮭﺎ “Where art thou?” ………………………………………………………. ?ﺗﹹﻢ ﻛﮩﺎﮞ ﮨﻮ And then ﺍﻭﺭ ﭘﮭﺮ …………………………………………………………………………… the tired hands of “thoughts” …………………………………. ‘ﺳﻮﭺ’ ﻛﮯ ﺗﮭﻜﮯ ﮨﺎﺗﮫ searched you for a long time ……………………………..ﺩﻳﺮ ﺗﻚ ﺗﻤﮩﮯ ﺩﮬﻮﻧﺪﺗﮯ ﺭﮨﮯ on the bed of life…………………………………………………. ‘ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ’ ﻛﮯ ﺑﺴﺘﺮ ﭘﺮ
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Orange Juice (Portokal Surubu)
Written: 2007,Turkey Ertyaas said:“Is there anythinganything more refreshingthen an orange juicetaken with a pinch of saltafter a turkish bathin Cemberlitas hammam”And I said:“The orange juice is really workinglike those thoughts of hersmaking me a new personeverytime I think of hermaking me live againfrom a child to an old manBut, Is it possibleto drink this orange juiceevery second of my life?” Ertyaas was answer-less….
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Smoke Face
Written:2003,PK From the ending cigarette of ‘time’making smoke of ‘memories’in the smoke of memoriesif your face appears…How difficult it becomesto hide youfrom the rest of the worldso then i breathe in hardyour face of smokein my chest, and keep it thereso that you remain hiddenfrom the whole world…. but how is it possiblethat even if the cigarette of ‘time’pause to burncannot finishit can break, it can disappearand besides, how longcan one keep the smoke inside… So i try to make excusesto remain aloneand smoke alonebreathing in, your face of smokehard in my chestand keeping it there more and moreso that you remain hiddenfrom the whole worldtill the cigarette of time…
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Light Blue Water “Acik Mavi Su”
Written: 2007,Turkey The bus of ‘thoughts’ was going aimlesslyon the road of lifeMost ’emotions’ sittingin the bus of ‘thought’were lost in their feeling of nothingnesssome laughingsome singingsome seeing outsidethe bus of ‘thought’and some lost in turning memories into pictures apart,alone,from all these ’emotions’one alone Emotionsitting at the back seatin the bus of ‘thought’was lost in himself,thinkingthe gone by momentsthe coming tomorrowthe feeling of existingthe sadness of being sudden brakes…the bus of thoughts stoppedAnd YOU appearedlike snow in the summerlike sun in the coldThe winds of dreams start flowingthe heart went flyinglike an albatros Who was I?perhaps a piece of glassand you, like a light beampassed, travelledall through meturning me into…
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KIZKELESI DeJA-VU…
Written: 2007,Turkey,near Kizkelesi Castle, Az Deniz Lying on a beachPlaying with the sand with my handsI recalledIt has happened to me beforeAnd I rememberedNot so long agoIn the same wayI was playing with your hairsAnd I felt so terribly small Sitting like a pointOn the edge of your eyesSeeing the castle of ‘KIZKELESI’Floating in your eyesThe waves, lost in their happeningsThe sun setting in your eyesAnd I thoughtHow many yearsWill I needHow many mountains,desertsWill I travelTo know your bodyAnd even then, I would just be knowingThe outside realityWhat about the unknown insideHow much beyond the unknownsHow many travels, yet to comeAnd I am justLying on the beachPlaying with your hairs…
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What does it matter
What does it matter!You too big, you cannot see meOrI too small, like an unknown star What does it matter!Finding beauty in youOrBelieving beauty to be you What does it matter!Questioning the existence of GodOrFinding reasons to follow reasons What does it matter!Seeing “ESKI” in you ( ESKI is name of a child)OrSeeing you in “ESKI” What does it matter!I live , or dieStay or GoHappy or SadWith or withoutBecoming you has taken meBeyond these worldly mattersOf whats and nots………………..
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My “hope” mistress… A converstion
I want to write something so desperately today….. But the words are running far away from me, and like an old lion I am running aimlessly for them… I tried getting hold of this word desire but to no use… she was so close for a while and so far suddenly now….i looked for the word life and no success either….she is keeping a distance like the two rail tracks, always a step ahead…… a last try I did catching happiness but like an inexperienced jockey, the happiness horse easily got rid of me, wounding me seriously….. I finally am giving up the idea of hope now…. Sitting for a…
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The water falls … called time
“Are you religious” asked her…. a difficult question in a place like this i thought… “who created the water, why is the water falling down” asked my friend Tawfiq……and i started thinking if this is just a coincidence every body is becoming philosophical or is it some old witch doctor’s spirit still floating around Wli’s water fall putting all these questions in our minds……It was a beautiful place, a big water fall i havent seen that big before in my life, like an amphitheater, the mountain covering the three sides and the stage is hazed with water actors playing their final acts of martyrdom,happily charging towards their own death with…
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Miles to go before i sleep….
I laughed after a very long time, and laughed like hell.. there is this laugh which is unstoppable, you try your best but you simply can’t and you just laugh ,and that laugh happened to me..Even Ertyaas was looking at me with a surprising smiling look. Sitting at the main center square of Amsterdam’s red light area, where the smell of hash is making all of us high, we discussed on the same question of what to answer if our child asks the reason of creating her…. and she insisted on me being afraid of the responsibility and i told her i want to adopt a child instead of having…
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Sitting on Kafka’s shore….thinking…..waiting……!
Kafka’s shore is where things transform and become better or worse , the reality becomes a dream , the concept of time shrinks and expands with the amount of emotions we want to live in them and that’s how Ado’s beach happened to me. A place where a great river enters into an even greater sea,all eternal….all symbolica lone tree… a lonely fisherman…. a fish that wants to be caughta river which knows its destiny …. a sea which accepts all I am beginning to see an irreversible change happening in me, as if I am being pulled into higher concentrations of existence ,these connectivity of symbols showing a way,…
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Fading laughter (A Ghanian poem)
It is not all laughter, all the time.Who can laugh when the roof leaksAnd the walls give way to floods?Laughter is the seasoning of salt, andSalt is not food, but a seasoning for food.They have their sorrows, these men of the landPoverty stalks them by the hourAnd the Kente is a flesh in their lives: (Kente is a ghanian traditional cloth)Handed down through the rungs of the yearsFrom uncle to nephew through mother’s streamTimes disintegrating fingers, have by stealth,Loosened the threadsWhere the weaver of bonfire had joined the stripsThe dyes in the colors, red, blue , gold and greenSapped by the devilry of age,Have paled to where they can fade…
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Raw Happiness. Some thing we lost in my land……
” I think we modern people have forgotten the taste of real happiness” i said to ertyass, and she frowned at me as if not understanding what i really meant. I was sitting with a kind girl who invited me on a local Ghanaian music concert, the ambiance was quite bohemian, with people who were still trying to live the hippie dream and the university students who were still forming their dreams……. the musicians started playing instruments i never seen in my life, instruments you may laugh at seeing them but all having such raw but mellow and pure sounds that you become entranced as if some old voodoo spell…
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Holly Un-happned…
” I know we have just met but can you promise me some thing…..” I was lost in my thoughts when she asked and I for no reason was ready for everything, and still I don’t know whether she asked much off me or given more….…. It was a long night, and I am trying to collect those past butterfly moments now …. She had a very sublime but blunt style of entering into your thoughts and then letting you fly with the flow, moment by moment, sentence by sentence, note by note, setting up the overture, raising up the tempo, as if a musical conversation is happening between two…
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Holly….
“Is this a good book?” she said. And that was the beginning of a long conversation that is still ongoing till this date. Holly, like her name had something holistic in her, as if you are talking not to a person but with thoughts without any efforts, free, sublime and serene thoughts. She was coming to ghana for her vocations and for drumming lessons and we met on the plane…….I said ” not much to see here, but few good deserted beaches and some poverty shock”… but when I met her the second time, I had to say that I am seeing africa for the first time with you. She…
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Seeking Eyez….
why do you look at methrough every eyeWherever i go,whoever i meetsnowy cities, crowdy airports, watery stations,the eyes in the desertsthe desert in the eyesthe eyes in the watersthe water in the eyeseverywhere, you follow Using others for me…You use me for others too? What is the need?Who are we?stray snow flakesgliding over the sea of timemelting day by day Who are you to bind us together?Why us? are you a part of us?Are you bored of being alone?How many boredoms yet to come? I sometimes feel ,you ask your questions through our eyesIts not our questions, its your questionsSeeking the eye that holds the answer…..
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Stray thoughts on Kokrobite beach…..
For the past few days now I am listening to some europian music, I think it is french and italian and somehow enjoying it a lot although not understanding a word of it…..Made me think today of this music I am listening to… these words possibly having totally different meanings tied to it, possibly talking about some tangible things and I thinking them otherwise, taking them for some ode of old love…….like this song “La Mer” which I now know is about the sea…though somehow it is tied to old love hanging always around us like the sea……. Made me think of do we all create our own realities to…
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Remember, Remember, the 5th of September
5th September 2008….An other day passed in my human life. Wondering around the streets of Stockholm, i finally settled on a bench in front of Strut-Gallerian near Kungsgatan Ostermalmstorg, and allowed my self again to break into those tiny pieces of my intangible but solid existence…..these pieces, “memories”, “emotions”, “destiny”, to name a few; all having their own lives and their own deaths and all detached from each other like the crowd i see now on this busy street… all in pursuit of their own happiness. The “Memory”, thinking about all the people I want to remember and all i don’t want to remember and trying to find happiness in…
