Divine Trophies

I can’t be philosophical in love

Love professes no philosophy of its own

Love is the matter of faith

Not of reason or scepticism

I can’t follow any scientific logic in love

We can’t be calculated with mathematics

One plus one is always one in love

We don’t belong to theorems or axioms

We are but the simple self-evident truth

Hidden neither inside me

Nor inside you

It’s somewhere invisibly hidden

Between you and I

We can’t be philosophical in love

There is no philosophy in love

Towards its extreme

When loving each other more

Becomes unbearably impossible

Lovers give in like faithful devotees

Finally

God takes over all the love stories

In the end

Love is the ultimate triumph of God

Lovers – His ultimate trophies

I Love You More...

This soul baring talks

This intense wanting

This endless waiting...

This all is such a waste of time

My love

Let’s hold each other by necks

Like two bloodthirsty enemies

And kill each other

While shouting the slogan

“I love you more...”

“I love you more...”

That Was Our First Night

That night didn’t begin at night

Strangely it began

Not until it was morning

Like the aftermath of a revolutionary song

Outside the room

When sun was crawling up the sky

You wore the sunset around yourself

Like a mysterious painting of an anonymous painter

I stood stunned

Passing through that moment

Was like passing through galaxies

You turned me into a star

With your single touch

You raised me high like a temple

And allowed me to worship you

Like a devout priest

I opened the sacred gates

After a long consummate ritual

And entered the city I had lost

Finally

I was home

Like many events in history

Cannot be precisely dated

Even by most accomplished historians

The beginning of our last night

My love

Cannot be exactly placed in time

The night that didn’t begin at night

That was our first night

To Aylan Kurdi and Drowned Humanity

This should be the end of the world

World began from a shore

World should cease at this shore

This should be the end of the world

Earth never belongs to a man

Not even to men

Definitely not in the least

To tiny self-obsessed men

Calling themselves nation

There is no nation of a child

Children belong to no country

All countries belong to them

This whole world is theirs to take

A child left homeless!

Such homelessness!

Even sea couldn’t take him

He was washed off the shore

To remind us of meaningless boundaries

To remind us of our cancerous chauvinism

This definitely here

Should have been the end of the world

Only With You

With you

Love is a lifelong expedition

To an unknown land

Where Caliban was never enslaved

And no one spoke any different tongue

With you

Love is a mysterious voyage

To the splendours of next world

Where death is not an old currency

And no one buys the soul

With you

Love is a cosmic whole

Almost a galaxy in itself

Where there is more than one Sun

And you and I are the only moons 

International Day Of Enforced Disappearances (30th August)

They took you away

Like you were my cursed treasure

Hunted by ugly treasure-hunters...

I was forced to reduce your ominous presence

To a small passport size photograph

I keep it in my wallet now

But it gets heavier every year

Dull every month

I can only see your eyes in it now...

Can’t remember your angular strong face

Or your chuckled laugh

When you were gone

I was angry and sad...

Today when you are still gone

I’m not angry but sadness is still hanging

From the corners of my eyes

Especially when I smile

And when every relative obnoxiously

Comes over in sympathy and says

I have your eyes...

If I have your eyes

Why can’t I see you?

Have you gone blind with age?

Sometimes like a neurotic psychopath

I wish you would have died before...

When you fell down the stairs once

Or when your cycle was hit by a car

Or when the cricket ball hit you on your neck

I remember

You couldn’t sleep whole night because of pain

And kept me awake too

Why didn’t you die then?

At least

They couldn’t have taken your death away

From us...

In my mind though

I have dug a grave already for you

Not because I’m angry with you

Because you were always incapable

Of living without me...

Brush Stroke

The canvas revealed itself

Like the breaking of the dawn

I drew my first stroke

Like the coming of the tiger

From behind the hiding

To prey on his feast

Eyes close...

Mouth opens...

Hearts pound...

Life spills out...

Two dead bodies

Bury each other

In the carcass of their desires

And rise like two haunted souls

We walk together

Hand in hand

Out of our bodies

Probably our bodies are still lying there

In that smoke-filled room

The ashtray still warm with ashes

Of our wildly burnt night

We’re here now

Collecting pieces of our last night

Waiting for the news of our death

Waiting to hear somewhere

In the news or from the newspapers

Breaking News:

“Two young bodies found dead

in their last embrace. Probably,

they must have choked each other

In unbearable passion.”

It’s quite late now...

But the news hasn’t arrived yet

We hold each other’s hand

And listen to old melodious songs

About longing and immutable pain of separation

While our waiting is getting long...quite long