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we have with each other
was never a raw thread
that can be easily broken.
My childhood is your subsistence
so I know your heart,
it withered most often
to warn me the consequences and reality;
Before any changes,
I want to hug close and long
to feel your dry rough skin
those naked bodies and your loneliness;
I want to swing in your arms
to feel the flowing air around you
inhaling and exhaling our breathes;
Soon there will be change in this atmosphere,
Soon there will be magics to be seen in you,
they will praise you,
they will gather and play around you,
as you will become beautiful by those spells;
I want us to be captured in photos
this part of your nakedness, your loneliness,
to learn how people abandon you
when you are naked, when you do not blossom
"You have been my great teacher!
My old - - Persimmon tree - -"
History too is a stretch
where deep is the cause
and wave is the result.
We are like fishes
History too is a stretch of sea
who swim inside the worm
like in those histories
the ancestors bravery tales
for uncountable wars.
War is always a deception,
for changes the key is
The fantasies of Vlad Dracul,
The rise of Napoleon,
The strength of Adolf Hitler,
The revolution of Bhagat Singh,
The struggle of V.I. Lenin;
they were tales to provoke people for war.
Though pride on histories achievement;
The child still waiting for rights,
The woman still not safe,
The youth future is still unknown,
The man is still a slave,
and homeless are old people.
The Light of Asia,
they are always kept in shadows.
If someday I got a golden pen,
in an ancient page
my own history,
I know -
the historical tales of provocation
will stretch its bloody arms to my only page
and will write itself
the told ancient history,
filling unwanted bloods within my pages.
We are like fishes,
they are real fisherman with fishing pole
waiting above those islands
of this stretching blue dark sea
Like the frantic
of blue oceans,
waves within my mind
passes questionnaires about you.
Like the frantic uncontrolled waves
Love to you, Love from you
Love with you, Love within you;
how possibly I understand -
Was I Romeo to see you Juliet?
Did I became Devdas to find Paaro?
Were I travelling in Titanic to sense you?
Lovers has passed
their expression of love,
You as a chilling moon,
You as a red rose,
You as an angel,
You as a dream-girl.
I have asked myself -
if the moons were never there,
if roses were not flowers,
if angels were wicked devils,
if dreams were nightmares;
will they pass these names to please you?
When I see with my eyes,
you are simply you -
a pretty girl but playful,
a happy girl but merry,
a smart girl but shy,
a perfect girl to become woman.
I listen, believe, trust and feel my eyes,
to see you a perfect girl, simply a girl.
May be you are fond of lies
the confrontation of flirts
May be you expect same from me and I failed
then I enjoyed being failed,
then I rejoiced the frantic waves becoming your only 'Playboy'