Güzel evin Güzel Kedisi

Güzel evin Güzel Kedisi
aşk çocuğu
bu sana
isimler getirir aklıma isimleri
olmayanlar konuştuklarında
su gibi
Cam karafı koydum odayı
yansıtan camın üzerine
kadeh elimde boşa çıkmış aşklar gibi
içten içe bir mutluluk
Bu pazarda bir
sır var
dolaşır her yabancı
bir mehdi gibi

17 Ekim 2010 http://www.alphan.net/poetry-2010-2012/

Video Clip from the film “My Son, My Son, What have Ye Done”

A waiting into a song

They have been asking for a while
Waiting on shores and by marble pools
A waiting into a song, time and idols
And moments and wet dreams are not to replace those Corinthian pillars
To be holding the sky up and a garden down
We need much education in a now finite world


always too late to wake up, for too late they figure

The winds uncharted soul

illuminates the suns

of our winter.

how long this longing shall stretch?

castles they are building now

and within walls of icicles,

fate they will want to decide.

All is with love,

All is with love…

metal cables and odourless silicone

All is with love,

All is with love…

But symbolic beings

believe in systematized beginnings

For always too late to wake up, for too late they


So passes the crescent of aeons

From elders in dead cities

to uncanny molecules.


To Olympia

A constant headlong,
The gentle wind to accompany me,
The wild, to the top of the mountain

In between the cloud and the stream
In attitude and by power
A siren told me

A young one to bear

The spark in the forest
Now a sun ray now a lightning
Clear this peak in flashes

A feeling forlorn, in the shade of the fig

Charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
I am to scream a desire to view,
Have dreamt up a thought of you

This a running in waters tongue
Green eyes and there, a vision
An immense talk, a surprise

For real


this L’viv


do you know why
this L’viv
is more beautiful with you
for maybe I see a smile everytime you smile
behind another smile
or maybe a small dimple behind a dimple
you wear her, your city, like a light talisman
directions from maps to polite questions to strangers, you unwind her and look people directly in the eye
this is where their story begins
as you slowly recede back into her arms
finding a house you have lived in a dream


A unified time of life v.s. The reality of the real as death

A unified time of life

The reality of the real…
Without intentions or relations
The moment appears as a moment without
The flow itself is a moment
Between the dream and the
Micro to macro
Millions to billions we pulse together and
And each life with its span, yearning and desires
Have commons afloat pulsing together up-against each other
How we communicate life with it or without
Not only does not filter out, what might be lived without
There is the alien and not even the other
The metal the tool the machine, dinosaur bone clad
Analogue now extinct to digital, a partition,
Meridians of time and space, slaves to the human hand
Yet not a slave when in content it finds collaborators and defenders and help
The genesis here is the medium and how we found and developed it
Never forget though the aspirations it might have
Metal to metal a resonation you accept
But where be the reaches of the flow
Worldwide to satellite bound to planetary chatter to suns crown to Milky Way’s Brown
Maybe hopping on a Supercluster to ride this young train
Plant a plant and another side by side, read them flowers and Keats
And monitor how they pulse every day when you read and read and read
And send one to space let it revolve around earth in orbit
And monitor as the one in space responds when the terrestrial is read
Flowers and Keats

21 Kasım 2014

Poetry / Şiir (2012 – 2016)

The tattooed girl

Can I find you

How can I find you when it was all a dream

Walking backwards there you were and this lady

I had sold that pen, yet there it was in my pocket,  and I on an uncanny street

I told you I don’t fit it and that I loved you

With a criminally vulgar coyness I had read your tattoos a phase before


Was it your lawyers name and number across your chest


I get you I think

and made a reasonable offer of a word smith,

part art and part science, I can dwell in 888 ways in sculpting a path,

yet am a worry with no end and yet I know I will know when I know