For a Dime of Sanity

  "Top of the morning to ya!" I yelled to none, "To you, too!" yelled none. My sore throat bled like a virgin, smoothly and not much. Lady of the night was mine to touch. Dead to the world she was sleeping, until my tongue came flipping. Poverty of the soul was the reason behind our nudeness, every mortal needs some undressing to richen the poor soul every once in a while. Before none but our mournful bodies, we fed our poor souls again. Our sheet was covered by the outcomes of her body's pleasure, and her body was covered by our never-to-be-born children. Guilt came knocking at her door and she started talking about her boyfriend and what a big mistake I was. Oh, my beautiful young one, when was I ever not a mistake?

  Time flew, our paths crossed once again in the same bed. Our tongues touched one another with fidelity and hunger. Her forearm leaning on the back of my neck made me gasp, yet I kept kissing  those winey lips sweeter than a pie. If I were to breathe my last, I'd like to go choking on her winey lips with relish. She didn't let me die just yet, and took our clothes off in the blink of an eye. Between her legs was a fountain of pleasure already, and god whispered from there. Heaven I found between her legs. She moaned as I wandered around in that heaven and her eyes rolled and her hands pressed hard against my back. Corners of her belly I held tightly and I kissed her neck warmly. Then I took her legs upon my shoulders and grabbed her thighs. She cried her grief out between her legs and so did I, upon her chest soon after. Our sheet was once again covered by the outcomes of her pleasure, and we slept upon her pleasure with a smile on our tired and sweaty faces.

  Came the morning I woke. With a shy face she trembled for me. I did lay myself beside her once again, and left her caress for fed were our souls.

Storyteller is Due

  This apathy of mine hurts me not

  Bleeds me not, kills me not.

  I can not sigh, I can not care,

  I can not die, I can not repair.

  Be still not my heart,

  For my unholy kingdom falls.

  My castle is torn apart,

  And carries agony in its halls.

Seek & Find & Bleed

  "He who belongethe not, seeketh. He who belongethe, bleedeth."

  (he who belongs not, seeks. he who belongs, bleeds.)

  An oath of allegiance to none but six feet under is all that a man can do. Yet, he seeks a home, suffering from the great delusion of mankind, the sense of belonging. So, he who belongs not, seeks. He desperately seeks a place he can call home, and hopefully, finds it. The great delusion of belongingness is nothing but a riddle from the killer himself, the good-old time. And time's merciless riddle's answer is awakening. Awakening to the bitter truth that no man belongs anywhere upon the ground but into the nothingness. Therefore, he who belongs not, starts to bleed. The thought of it is never sweet.

A Poem to My Lady H, For I Yearn

  "I knew that in the time to come, I wouldn't be able to kiss your lips sweet as a starry-eyed daydream for a reason I'd never know why. What I've let me be sickens me, a man of such a sweet, yet lethal sorrow."

  It's been a long time and many a fine lady since the last time I saw you. Our memories come flooding back treacherously every so often. Warmth of your hands wandering along my hair and my back haunts me, as though you moved in my veins and will not leave until you finally block the blood flow to my heart and give me a painful heart-attack. It's pretty hard to confess for a man with such a holier-than-thou attitude like me, but bear in your to-die-for mind that I yearn for you lately and continuously.

  My trembling body to be slaughtered

  For just a kiss upon your smooth thighs

  Or maybe your wise lips

  That call for me not.

  Oh, my sin most holy

  My grave most merry

  My nightmare most fairy

  My decay is your glory.

  Fire all the guns in the world without mercy to me;

  I shall not bleed a drop anyhow, for I bled it all for thee.

Widow In the Oldest Pub In Town

A friend of mine introduced us in the oldest pub in town

And on a good day, I'd lay myself beside her

With all the lust I have left

For the sake of all the lust inside her.

She had no make-up on, oh, I checked

My young fingers wandered hard on that lovely face

Oh, my friends, she made me touch everywhere possible

Yet, nothing in me shined.

She told about her two little daughters

And the outcomes of being a single mother

I sat there and listened

And I admired.

She didn't look like she gave birth three months ago

Actually, she was the finest lady there.

As a matter of fact, one of the finest I've ever met.

She said: "I don't wanna fuck you,

You know that, right?"

I only smiled and let that slide

Before she spread her thighs a little and put my hand on her leg.

"What are you doing later on tonight?" she asked

"I'd kill a man to do you, but I can't tonight." I answered.

"How come? Are you not a man?" she said.

"Oh, darling, not tonight. But if you let me kiss

Your unholy lips, I might sleep tight." I whispered to her ear.

"Only a man can kiss me, and you don't act like one." she said.

Her lust grew as she hit the booze

Mine was never there.

She gave up on me that night

And I went home by shank's mare.

I could kill a man that night

To hold her and play with her hair.

For I long to love a woman

And days go by with despair.

I'm afraid to die malt-worm on a cold night

Oh, how I wish I died in her arms that night.

To Lady E, About Lady H

  My Lady E, what a splendid month was it! The old time flies away like my youth. I'll never forget the summer of your bed, beach and booze. I know you loved me with blind eyes to my wrongful truths, so I can only hope that my fallen romance with Lady H will not break your heart and make you smile, for you know what a child I turn out to be when it's about a pretty pretty lady.

  I met her in a coffee shop a month ago. The flirting part was as adorable as it gets. We smiled like me and you. Deep in my mind I thought that with her rebellious tattoos, reckless attitude and unforgettable beauty, she was made for me. Instantly she fell in my good graces. She didn't talk very much and smiled a lot, her wisdom I found deep in her eyes. I accepted she was better than me in every aspect possible. My heart crumbled every single time her big sparkling eyes were laid upon me. I had many a fine lady, but believe me when I say this: I have never seen anything quite beautiful as her! And of course, her wisdom was something rare. So goddamn rare. When I looked at her, I felt like Tony Montana. The world was mine and everything in it was made for my pleasure.

  Eight days ago on October 7th, I bought two bottles of wine and marched like a soldier to my fortress of solitude where she and I planned to be at. Yes, to the room we made love once when you came to my hometown. What you wrote, "Don't forget me." is still on the wall by the way. We sat on my bed and I poured us two glasses of wine. I told her about the book I wrote in my worst times, she smiled like she read it. We chattered nearly half an hour and by that time, I finished the bottle by myself. She didn't even finish her glass. I was so nervous alongside of this goddess of beauty and wisdom. Finally, I was able to make the move. I took her clothes off and there she was, the perfect lady of this world, naked and shy before me. I kissed her cherry lips my eyes shut and silence was the melody of my fading solitude. We made love and it was hard for me because of the wine. I certainly wasn't at my best, I can't even say I enjoyed it. Yet, the thought of being inside of a lady I admire with all my being was more than enough. After the nasty part, I felt her blessed body against mine. And her sacred hand on my face was shining my darkened spirit I'm sure. She came healing.

  We texted a little while but that was the last day we actually talked face to face. Don't ask why. I still see her sometimes. Her wisdom and beauty was taken away from me and I've come to terms with it. I believe I'm okay with it.

  Here ends the story. I wish you the best in your life, and please, don't be a stranger.

  Yours lovingly,

  Not a Ladies Man

Gün Doğarken Bir Yabancı

  Sabahın beşinde bir yabancıyla yarı çıplak, terler içinde uyumaya yeltenen kişinin uzandığı yatakta saadet hak getire. Zevk sıvılarının kokusuyla ten ve ter kokusunun birleştiği odada bir de tütün yandı mı... Hüznün kokusu aşağı yukarı budur.

  Bahsettiğim bu birçok yabancıyla süregelen bu hoşnut aptallık herkese mi mükelleftir yoksa yalnızca iradesiz kişilere mi, bilemem. Yapılmasının birçok sebebi olabilir, yargılamak kimsenin harcı olmamalıdır ama bilinmelidir ki, belki bir ilah, belki bir dost, belki aileden biri, belki de bir sevgili mutlaka bir gün yargılayacaktır. Yargılamak, insanın çekirdeğinde vardır. Dünyanın en saf kalpli insanı da mutlaktır ki yargılar, en beter insanı da. Aksini düşünmek kendini kandırmak ve aynaya bakmamaktır.

Mart Kedisinin Melodisi

  Savaş alanında kulaklarını tıkamış askerler, parmak uçlarına kadar hissettikleri korkuyu bastıramaz. Askerler aslında dünyaya savaşmak için gelmemiştir. Üstlerindeki üniforma onlara yalnızca savaşçı süsü verir. Ölmezlerse sonradan kulaklarını açar, savaş melodisine alışırlar sadece ve biz onlara savaşçı unvanını veririz. Kimse savaşçı doğmaz. Mart kedisi olmak da tıpkı bunun gibidir. Kimse mart kedisi doğmaz, herkes dünyaya sevecen hâlde gelir. Duymak istemedikleri şeylere kulaklarını tıkar, duymazdan gelirler. Bir yerden sonra yüreklenmeye tenezzül edip kulaklarını açarlar ve çalmaya başlar mart kedisinin melodisi. Savaş melodisi çaldıkça sanırım öldürmek tatlı gelir, mart kedisinin melodisi çaldıkça ise sevişmek.

  Savaşmak ve sevişmek birbirine çok benzer, biri toprağı ıslatırken öbürü yatağı ıslatır. Melodilerini besteleyen tanrıdır. Öldürmek de alışkanlık hâline gelir, sevişmek de. Egomuzu besler, faniliğimizi bastırır, bizi tanrılaştırır. Ve elbette, sevişmek, savaşmaktan etiktir.

Goner

  A rambling man keeps on rambling no matter how far away he goes. I know that for a fact. Desire of abandoning cities or women or family come to the same reason. He who wants to puke all the venom within yearns for far away places. Well, he's wrong. He should come to terms with the fact that he is actually... toxic. There is no escaping from yourself. The answer is not another woman's bitter taste or moving to another city. The answer lies within yourself. No matter how hard you try to ignore, it always comes down to these two possible answers: Bullet for your brain or letting it all go. The latter seems much easier, yeah? It's not. I can bet my life on it.

  Exactly 20 days from now, I'll be in a new city where I'll spend at least 5 years of my life. Surely, leaving it all behind seems like such a sweet bless, yet I tried leaving once and it did not go well. This time, I'll try harder. I'll try to let it all go.

  It's been a long time since I shared any songs with y'all. Kathleen then.

  "Stars hang high above, the oceans roar

  The moon's come to lead me to her door

  There's crystal across the sand

  And the waves, they take my hand.

  Soon I'm gonna see my sweet Kathleen."

Hancıdan Haber

  "Selam söyledi" dedi elleri bira kokulu, bıyıkları tütünden sararmış, bedeni ihtiyarlığa teslim olmuş hancı. Teşekkür ettim eski ahbabımın selamına ettiği elçiliğe.

  Hayli zaman önce bu büyükten hallice şehirde gitgide kendi itibarını lekelediğini düşünüp insanoğluna küsmüş ve küçük bir kasabaya yerleşmişti. Anlaşılan o ki memleketinin en sevdiği hanına uğramış, eski dostuna gelişini haber vermekten kaçınmıştı. Kendisini suçlamıyordum fakat bu ona kızgın olmadığım manasına gelmiyordu. Kimsenin bardak altlıklarını kullanmaya tenezzül etmediği hanın bu lekeli masası, birçok güzelin kapalı kapılar ardındaki manevralarına dair dedikodulara, alkolizmin kafesine irademizle girmemize ve çıkmamıza, kutsalları hiçe saymaktan aldığımız muhteşem hazza ve daha birçok şeye tanıklık etmişti.

  Terk-i diyar etmeden evvel çektiği varoluş sancılarını bana anlatmakta güçlük yaşıyordu. Sükunet arzusu taşmıştı, inzivaya çekileceğini, insanoğlundan ve şehir gürültüsünden bıktığını söylüyordu. Hatta bir gün durakta otobüs beklerken yerdeki boş su şişesi, rüzgârın etkisiyle usul usul ona doğru süzüldükçe içini korku kapladığını, şişe yaklaştıkça ölümün de yaklaştığını hissettiğini söylediğinde delirdiğini düşünmüştüm.

  Yeterince içtim, ahiren bünyem aptallıklara gebeydi zaten. İtibarımı düşünüp bir sonrakini söylemedim. Tahrip olmuş cüzdanımdan parayı çıkarıp hancıya verdim. Yerimden kalkarken bir ses duydum, mazidendi...

  "Beni özledin mi?" dedi. Yıllardır görmediğim yüzündeki tek değişiklik ufak tefek kırışıklıklar ve eski usul bir bıyıktı.

  Dostluk hakkında yığınla farklı felsefi görüş elbet vardır, ancak içlerinden biri hepsinden üstün ve yanlışlaması en zahmetli olandır. Der ki "Bir insanın tek dostu ikinci kişiliğidir."

  "Özlememek ne mümkün!" diye cevap verdim kendime, bıyıklarımızın altında buruk bir gülümseme ve kaşlarımızda her zamanki çatıklık vardı. Vusladımız hayli geç kalınmış ve bir o kadar da manidardı.

A Liar Stands

   Going home after a lovely night

   Making love to a woman I met

   No shame crossed our paths

   No religionist thoughts came anywhere near.

   I told her poems right off the top my head

   Poems were about her beauty and kindness

   And how blessed I felt beside her body.

   Right here, a liar stands.

   I'll meet a lady I met in a library tomorrow

   Later on, she and I'll go to her place,

   "A lovely meal I'll cook," she said

   When she learned how I crave a good one.

   After my belly is full, poems will come knocking

   And her wild body surely will start trembling

   As I spill the beans for her beauty and kindness

   Right there, a liar will stand.

   Though recently I'm not honest in any way

   My words were the truth many times

   Honestly, I can't remember all the ladies

   No one keeps track of each fallen romance.

   I send my love to those I had a passionate dance

   Yet, right here, right now,

   A liar stands.