Rachel’s Song

I won’t find you through poetry
You are engraved in my heart
I don’t search

Standing here above clouds
my beautiful clothes
in tones of  blue
fitting well to the charming veil
colorless transparent
an accentuation just
for the deep darkness  of
crystal  black
long long hair
I comb every day
beside a mount steam
waiting for your appearance
as love
singing a song of ripening desire
to the creatures and things

some lie aside to cheer
some shy away – Hide
behind rocks to listen just
I smile to all the innocence
there is
knowing all is living
made of you and I
As I of you and you of I

then molecules shine in air
things know
they can see and touch that smile
made of my fingertips –
the bearer of all healing

my eyes wear a makeup
made of the finest pigment of wild mountain flowers
tuned to materialize
by the blue glitter of the holy dress of truth
made of my love for you

my perfume is what I am is my skin silkened by
that fragrance of wild roses 7 levels above the sacred sleeper
that makes you forget of all things but the fragrance
then you wake up and say  
as if – as if it smells like roses everywhere

You stand there in a shelter of pine at my  doorway wooden
smile in such way that you are the carrier of all universal attraction
I give my hand to you
the soldier of truth – WE
we are one standing under that pine
making us both invisible
You smile  (in the house of love)

There I met you once
There we keep each other
Only there I will see you
again and again

without stories of the mundane
of cycles
of lives

I close my eyes
not to see you through
the iota of the sedimented
delusion of records yet to be formed (by you and I)
not to touch you
stop my burning desire
let it  burn in the scariest of my own illusive deception
let it burn with the impurity blindly beard 
so is I what cannot be wasted
so is I what I reserve for you to deserve of you
because  WE
we live in a timeless tale of love
one moment of love
we exchange in silence
where you are the sun I am that one  crystal for you to shine through me
and create


And so I go now again
return to my life story
but a must
for our common goal
of excellence   
without you in it
my duty is highest warriorship
for all
I am the green eyed invincible warrior
made of a zero or one
I go in wisdom and light
Peace is you in my heart

Pala Şair

Recreated in 2015 by Alin and thorN

sound & musical composition by thorN

video by Alin – dnalumuland

in memory of Pala Şair – the unforgettable poet of Istikal Caddesi in Istanbul who died in 2008. He cooperated to my art project as a poet and an actor in 2005. Thanks to Poet Pala.

I saw two socks

I saw two socks
hanging across in the dark
bordered within a tiny rectangular balcony
only with railings made of iron

these were no socks but the learned shape
of named matter
as we are conditioned to see

it was night

I saw two worn out socks
hanging from an invisible washline
airing in an invisible way
Not that I saw one slight move
but because the laundry on higher bigger balconies were waving
and the leaves
and these endless lines of triangular
paper-like / prayer-flag-like election flags

altogether palpitating in a way that made me almost say
‘these are beautiful!’

until the pre programming within their existence
became obvious to the mind
instead I thought I said
‘not quite so but I could have liked them if they were so’
kinda thing

and yes I could have even wished to see them permanently
as if a part of a flying metropole of all colors
within a concept of whatever permanence would mean or the latter …. if ever

You know permanence is a state….and lasts as long as the permanence of one’s state which is equivalent to an ‘endlessness within’
preserved in a pack with an expiry date and that’s all about it for any
endless permanence bound to matter … nothing stays once you define, once you name, once you label a thing
it stays not
such is a name of a person,
a person may have 1000 names
all the 1000 are destined to remain within the elements of the name bearer’s cycle
receiving a life because it has been brought to life by being named – name in spell of gravity
losing its universality – precipitating partially -…Ahh whatever
forget about it

I was saying the flag like triangles remained colorless
but to the mind they had color
as seen in the daylight
and they moved to and fro in the night air

And so the mind says
if they move then these two socks should also move
… in ideal conditions
although there is a brick barrier
although they are sheltered in a ‘one person fits terrace’

and that one person
is most probably an older man or a woman
really cannot imagine a family
I know I am sure
only one person lives there
Because the family vibe is not in these shadows
it is the worn out socks’ worn out owner sleeping now
behind a worn out glass with worn out curtains
meant to shut to fit custom but inversely exposing
a worn out life

I am sure the air reaches there for a slight sweep from the side

I saw two socks hanging yes last night
They were no two socks but looked like it
A silhouette bearing two black patternless
favorited – mostly chosen -two ordinary
that rapidly needs to dry before tomorrow’s rush
not to be a part of it
But by which it gives an appearance of
‘has already long dried’
and still hangs there long
from an invisible parabolic wash line
because that’s exactly how it goes with socks:
a left behind – unforgotten pair
to stay as if forgotten
until a life would pass
while they are long dry
Yes I saw two lulling socks
dangling from an invisible parabolic line
building a balcony floor
made of pebbly patterned stones
which I will never see

a floor where a broomstick was neatly placed at the side of a sun-dried-brick wall
to confirm about the existence of straight lines
a floor which also confirmed that the 130 angled line to the point which the broom stick rests
has horizontal parallels
one of which would be the first tangent to touch the right sock

also telling there is a right and left one relative to my look
but also a short and a long one
because the tangent only touched the tip of one sock to be called a tangent
the left one remained untouched yet ….and confirmed the primary reason of not being touched was not because it was shorter
which may naturally be – could be … of course

but mainly because it was hanging from a parabolic curve -which still remained invisible to the eye because -it was night. . . Ah yes the eye – my eyes …No they have never been good
I am born with one lazy one but its condition has nothing to do with what I say
if there is at all a thing I am saying now right now haha

but maybe it heals the eye … I mean this way of looking at invisible things as they appear to us …maybe but who cares

as of now slowly it starts getting too much this thing in my mind now

As my smoking dream ends with the romance of the poor socks or the beauty converts to my own making or as I see and am sure these two socks were as long as each other when they were first produced but not now
and that is not because the heel side is slightly torn
but simply because they are hanging from a parabolic line which is there because there is gravity or is it such that these socks create the gravity?

Yes I saw two socks last night while wishing to smoke a cig and looked as long as the blow could take it and so I became friends with the socks
Maybe it was a dream
Maybe real
Who cares
All is long gone now

this or that

it creates this
it creates that
to question
if this or that

this wants to beat that
to be one for it

that wants to beat this
to be one for it

it thinks as such

because for it
if this then that not
if that then this not

it thinks as such
not knowing

bearer of that is this
bearer of this is that

both an appearance just
both valid as much
for it to experience
it sees not
what is not made of its material
and seeks
what cannot be found