A woman.

“We All Fall Down” by Aykut Aydogdu


Her beauty lies within the petals,
Of her nasty talks,
Her constant nagging,
And her unaccountability for things.

Her beauty lies in
her diligent persistence,
her sincere affection
her calloused hands,
and her war with herself.

She smells like soap and scent
She smells like hardwork,
she tastes like lipstick
glazed with yeasted sweat.

Her swollen joints are painless,
her womb is numb.
Her bosom is a mere show,
to which her vulnerability succumb.

The baggage under her eyes
is heavier than her burden,
and deeper than
an ocean of sorrows.

Delve deep into them,
and you can swim inside
her vast mind, and her
endless presumptions.

She can never be a equal to man.
For man cannot compete
with this bizarre creature.
He will be left behind.
She is a senseless hag
for finding joy in sacrifices.

She is a woman.





Crack me open,
like a piggy bank,
or an easter egg
like an excited child.

Crack me open,
and gold will pour
out of my soul.

Find the treasure buried,
right beneath the rubble,
of a war once happened
inside my head.

Shining, glistening,
shimmering in the mind,
in the form of sweet words
and good deeds.

And once you find it,
we’ll share it in half
because I helped you find it.
My treasure.





Before I surrender myself to the momentary death,
in the form of sleep,
I count all the sins that I have done
in the lifetime of dawn and dusk.

And the treasures I collected,
to be savoured in the reincarnation
of the next dawn

Empty stomach and an empty morning,
My first wheezing cough marks my awakening.
Cold winds rustling the sheets lying around
remind of my idleness.

Wasn’t yesterday yesterday?
And will today also age to yesterday?

My heart is barren and light,
And the dead silence is melodious.
I stare into the dim lighted walls and shelves,
and I savour the beauty of the moment,
until it becomes unbearable.

I rise,
unwrapping myself
from the cocoon of sheets,
unaware of what my body is screaming for.

Rest, I need rest
from the invasive sorrow.
Introspection rather than inspection
is what a human should seek.

Videogames exist in reality.
But you have to pay heavy to get a new life,
And erase the memories by deep slumber
of starry skies and cherished smiles.



You, or I?

What’s the difference between you and I,
when I am called you,
and you call yourself I?

When the finger is pointed towards me,
and that trigger of tongue is set free,
shooting words and words and words.

I say that I have the right to speak,
but what do we do when they do?

I escape, and I dive.

I drown in the sea of media,
choked of social graces and Savior-faire,
and swept to the seashore,
unconscious of my identity.

We are scared of entities of doubtful existance.

We strive to be original,
yet chase someone else’s dreams.

We are given choices, and call ourselves free.

‘The drowning’ causes side effects although.

A strange dementia sweeps over us.

We become forgetful of thinking diversely,
failing to acknowledge our conscience.

The side effects can be fatal.
We may become the living dead.

It’s time we label ourselves specimens,
rather than humans,
for we are the outcome of the social experiments of the hegemony

We inhale explanations,
and exhale confusion.

And end up retiring to our beds,
dreaming of the world we never created.


Catch Me Raw.

Catch me buried in the stale blankets
Unconscious of your breathing through my greasy hair
Hoping I’m beautiful and serene
And my eyelashes look long enough
Even though I’ll act astonished
When you’ll make the discoveries.
I know you’ll kiss me
Until I can’t pretend to be asleep anymore
You just tipped of the alarm.

She’s alive again.

She’ll whiff in a planetful of air
And sigh a flavour of bitter lipstick and unbrushed teeth
She’ll observe you
And move on.
The raw her likes to be in her own ambience
Refuse to bath to retain her bizarre aroma
Shades of white and sunlight
Will be what she’ll always chase.
You won’t label her selfish if you are conscious of yourself
Because we mirror each other.
And that is why we lived decades together.