Artist was his son

Humiliation was his son

Madness possessed his son

Poetry gifted like a Sultan’s throne in Ottoman Empire

Philosophy his son drinks like milk

Punished by the trail of public opinion

What sand on sea shores can do?

When flooded by the sea waves every now and then

Like an un invited guest my poetry came to my house

Fate is to be blame if any?

World is to be blame if any?

Ask what sorrows and pain is?

Never to be understood but misunderstood

Major since I changed the universe changed

Major was philosophy and sin was passion

Talent was to be blame if any?

Books were to be blamed?

Poets and writers were to blamed?

Engineer he wanted me to be when

I forced to be a footballer

Business majors he wanted

When I strive for philosophy

What life? What money? What women?

What business? What god? What religion

What society? What family? What and what not?

Nothing matters if one knows not what ones good at?

I have been philosophizing all my childhood

I have been a poet in my mother’s womb

Listen if you can Poetry and philosophy is not useless

Just as moon is not useless

Moons light is its mask

Moons gravity is its poetry

no more o my filthy blood

Close the doors

Shut the windows

Lock the hearts

Enslave the souls

Debt to debts

Father to son

Misery to misery

End to and end

P