Category Archives: Literature

Exits

Now I stand

where I once knelt.

And after every misstep I forge anew my shield.

 

There is so much more to be lived,

yet too much to be left behind.

Been trying to keep an open mind,

but the end of the rope makes one blind.

 

The night slips on the corner of your eye

and the cold makes you look wise.

But you made me what I am not

and the feel of the bottom I never forgot.

 

We build walls to create new places

and keep ourselves busy inside these empty spaces.

The truth has always beaten your aces

I’ll never be right where you want me, erase me.

 

December 2019

 

Aykut Aydoğdu

by Aykut Aydoğdu


Angles

You are making a mess

on my cupboard

and on my dress.

I cannot give you any less

than this moment of total togetherness.

 

Oh, my man came from over the ocean

to fix my twisted heart with a potion.

And I pressed my forehead on his chest

and said it was so very complicated.

 

It turns wrongly my emotions.

Our pieces are broken in portions.

Maybe if I go down on you

I’ll know the peace that I used to.

 

You know I’m trouble.

I put your heart in a bubble.

But in the end it might be worthy –

 

For you to draw a few lines on the canvas.

And me to die a few times in my madness.

 

 

I ‘ve been sending you on your way for years

and keep rowing.

I thought I knew where I was going.

There is spit in my mouth and dirt in my soul.

 

My sorrows stand up in a row.

As we turn our backs to the globe.

 

September 2015

 

 


Mea culpa

Many things have ended for me, I’m done. Things like fighting for what is right or trying to fight and win over my demons. Things like speaking in the correct tense and trying to find some sense. Many things have ended for me in the cold evenings and had begun again in the even colder mornings. Seasons have changed and I am below the lowest I had ever gotten. It ain’t right. I’ve held my head high and I’ve been down in the dirt, in the mud. My moods have varied so much that I have destroyed relations with people. I’ve written so many words that I can’t remember them all. I’ve read so many words yet the white paper is the most sincere thing that exists. I’ve heard so many words that I’ve stopped listening. I’ve cared so much that I’ve ruined my inner self. I’ve blamed so much that I am to blame. I’ve seen so little of the world yet it feels like too much. I’ve tasted the madness now I want the touch

 

of gold.

 

 

18th of October 2016

 

ca83ce624bace0431531c997a864456e


Stimuli

The only currency that people actually possess is time. Time, in the sense of our own, personal time we have to spend on the Planet. So it becomes of crucial importance whom and what do we spend our time on.

There is no refund for the time spent. There is no contract offered to loan more time in case ours becomes limited. And there is no guarantee that we won’t run out of time at any given point in our lives.

So, don’t tell me the time I spent on you and you spent on me has no value. It’s like investing all your money in building a house and then leaving it empty, leaving it to time to rot and destroy. It’s not even like renting it or leaving it to the homeless people to live in. It’s like absolutely wasting it, locking it, nailing the windows with wood and leaving it to decay.

The question of time always evokes questions about waste. So there are at least two stimuli in a person’s life – making good choices about time and avoid time waste. All else is a subject to negotiation. But time never is.

 

Stimuli

Source – Pinterest. Artist unknown.


right where

In any case, for me being published means being in excruciating pain and saying it out loud. Тhat is a form of bravery in my world. It was never about the possible popularity or the attention of my acquaintances, or the questions everyone would start to ask. It was about being able to communicate all the things that had happened, all the things that I am.

                  August 2015

 


The Grind Contribution

The Spirit of Revolt appears in Issue V of the amazing Grind. You can check it out here:

http://the-grind.co.uk/issuev

Issue V Poster

Issue V Poster

https://www.facebook.com/TheGrindJournal


In any case

It’s not really about the ground or the neutral state of consciousness of the mob. In any case many people spend most of their lives thinking about nothing in particular and talking about the same. Many people spend most of their lives imitating love and ignoring the same. Trading love for attention or need and chasing away the same. Care and attention wear the mask of love just like beauty wears the mask of wreck. Love is above. Don’t dirty it with casual words, or imitated feelings and actions. Love is above, don’t lower it to complications. Love is simple.

He, in particular, was always talking about some truths that I had not yet discovered, about some things that it would take me months to realize. Sometimes I was thinking that even he didn’t realize what was he doing. It was just so natural for him to spread truth around.

He, particularly, designed his words with the purest of fire. No matter right or wrong, they were pure. My poetry started loosing its meaning and that was a perfect sign for me of my existential collapse. He could not be compared to anything I ever needed to beware. I was ready to give him every piece of my share, just wanted him to meet me there – where every sound was heard loudly and every word spoken bravely.

I tried evoking love to come to him. He was empty though. Empty but not in the ordinary sense of emptiness. He was empty like a hollow guitar that resonated every sound, he resonated every truth, every sense. So I became part of him, of his insights. Wholeness. Now, we just needed to entail love in that space of ours.

He was empty in another sense as well. He was emptied. Emptied by people who didn’t talk about anything in particular, by people who took words for granted, by people who used actions as weapons, and not as representation of feelings.

I was mad at that, furious at those people. I wanted his hollowness to be filled with the sounds of love.

April 2015


No one’s ground

No one’s ground, no one’s fault. no one’s decision, no one’s mistake. It’s just the way the world spins and the sun rises. That’s just the way the waves roll and the birds sing. Only if there was someone to hear them, to see them. People occupied, preoccupied, reoccupied, too occupied with the world that is created for them, rather than embracing the world that is given to them. People make what’s given insignificant and keep on striving for achievements that wouldn’t even matter for the generations to come. They push all the natural to the neutral ground, leave it there to not be. And I can easily keep on sharping my words, but it would scarcely change anything. I can easily sharpen my thoughts but would you sharpen yours back?

                                                                                                                                April 2015


accidentally chosen

He was like water to me – clear and transparent. I could drink him up in a breath but I didn’t want to. It wasn’t cool. He didn’t deserve to be forgotten so easily afterwards. Nonetheless, it is an interesting world that we are living in – everyone is trying to close their eyes and absolve their sins. But it takes more, so much more.

March 2013


too

Too close to my skin. I’m falling in the borderline.

A fitting representation of two souls as one.