19 mayis'ta dogmus

Benim gozumde 24'e bastin bugün Aydin bey
Anlattiginiz miladimdan onceki anilariniz roman bana
Gozlerin yeri geldi catik kaslarin altindan uyardi
Yeri geldi titreyen bir perde arasindan uzandi
Bazen nese ile, bazen tedirginlik ile agladi

Ama sen karsimda gordugum bir insan degilsin.

Sen babam,
Benim ulkem, benim kimligim, dogdugum yer
Sen benim inancim, dinimsin.

Herkes baba olabilir ama..
Herkes Baba olamaz.

Sen hem koklu bir agac hemde hic gidilmemis yerlere ucusan bir polen
olabilmeyi temsilen
nefes aliyorsun kalbimde
ve o insan olmayi cok iyi bilisinle,
nefes veriyorsun yuregime

Sen her renk baktin bana
Herseyimi gormeyip duymamayi kabul ederek
Sen kendini her zaman verdin bana
kendim olma hakkini da birakarak avucuma

Biz iki ayri dunya,
Ikimizde hem volkan, hem karinca
Hemde itiraf edelim, pembe pamuk helva

Aydin Ertan deyince benim gozlerimde Ataturk canlanir
Kelimeler en iyi dostum olsada, sozlerim heyecanlanir

Ne Tanrimin, ne Atamin nede senin golgende
mukkemel'e ulasmayi amaçlayamam
ama hep sizin izinizde iyi'ye ugrasirim

Seni cok seviyorum
Ailemizi sevdikçe ben daha iyi bir insan oluyorum

Felsefe derki her insan bencildir
kendi icin sever, kendi icin uzulur
Sizi kendim biliyorum
Ben ancak sizin icin sever, size uzulurum

Ne me Nietzsche pas !

Chercher
Dans le noir
Un point de départ
Une destination

« Deviens qui tu es »
On aimerait..
(mais la jeunesse est dans cette période de ne pas savoir
Quand tu sauras tout, tu ne seras plus.. du tout)

Partout, ces maîtres et leurs apprentis
Personne n’étant parfait, personne ne le devient
« Qui tu es » est comme un objectif distant avançant en même temps que toi
« Qui tu es » n’est pas parfait
Il te « temps » la main, il court

Petite boîte
Dans toi je me cache
Mes rêves débordent
Mes rêvent boitent
Mais je veux qu’ils sachent
Je suis belle vêtue de mes folies
Je l’aime lui
Je l’aime au pluriel
Je m’aime, je cours après une main de minuit
Je cours après l’angoisse de mes nuits
« Qui je suis », avec toi, je n’en ai pas fini

ANOSMIA

Un homme un jour perdit son odorat
Puis il perdit mémoire
Puis il perdit espoir
Puis il perdit l’amour
Vivre un jour devenu trop lourd
Il voulu mourir pour toujours

un voyageur

Une insulte au bout de ses lèvres
Une poésie dans sa tête
Des zones d’ombres dans sa quête
Il sourit sans lever les yeux
Voulant être aimé,
Trahissant tous ceux que ça tenterait

Un bus plein d’inconnus
Aux chemins croisés,
Aux passés incongrus
Aux avenirs non conçus
Il les juge sans les voir
Il les envie, Il les aime
Il les dessine, il les détruit

Il marche jusqu’à ce que sa route le mène à Pompidou
Il se baigne dans la foule aux lunettes de soleils
Il achète 2 cartes postales - photos de Paris
La tour Eiffel à l’envers
Noir et blanc
La tour Eiffel à l’endroit
En couleur

Il s’appelle Charles et Romain
Il s’appelle Paul et Martin
Les prénoms il adore ça
Demain il s’appellera Luc et Thomas

Ce n’est pas un méchant, ni un malade
Sa vie va trop vite, il se balade
Ni le temps de comprendre ni d’expliquer
Il a choisi de prendre une carte et de voyager

oyun bitti

mat siyah gözleri ile
muzigin dibine oturmus

icinde beyaz zakkumlar olan
mavi bir bardaktan selaleler iciyor

koyu renkli taslar var kucaginda
ne taki olacaklar ne hediye
isik vurdukça mavileri kirmizilari canlaniyor

dudaklarinin kirmizisinda baharatli sekerler olusuyor

ani bir hareketle
kolunu kaldirip parmagini siklatiyor

oyun bitti
simdi yenisi basliyor

You live, you don’t write when everything’s allright

Tragedy is so easy to see
Drama queen is so easy to be
Tears are close to your eyes
When you call them they’ll come : no surprise
No
No surprise when it comes to talking with the eyes


Happiness seems so fake
So boring, so lame, such big lies
Violets and blue skies
You live, you don’t write when everything’s allright


Walking under the rain
The one that falls before the sun shows up
The one that reconciles you with pain
I’m not singing nor dancing
Walking under the rain today
I’ve been just walking, just thinking
I know where I want to go, where I’m heading
I’m building the streets on my way
Geography is a puzzle in my hands today
There are some faces, some places where I want to stay
I send letters and wait for invitation
There’s an apartment near the river
When I see its curtains move I shiver
Last floor of an old building
Perfect view on grey roofs, I’m dreaming
Those history books of Paris with no lips, no voices
Of the people who lived without making choices

watching myself walk

a journey
this is what it is
talking less
still smiling
but laughing less
this is how it is

trying not to love people
this is how it feels

finding bits of myself in corners of cities
like hidden easter bunnies

one little, two little, three little women
thaught me great things in the hells of their heaven
first scared of, than adored them
from my respectfull distance

one little,
and a second big man
there won't be many of them
preferred not to get to know too much
not to tell, not to live, not to walk the line
i love them
from my safe little distance

went to London, to get lost
went to Istanbul, to listen to the waves
went to Luxembourg, to realize
I'm not her anymore
came back to Paris, to exorcise
but saw that my yesterday is only today's dream to fantasize

where is the North stranger, where is the South
isn't ignorance great?
don't think, don't open your mouth

Need to earn money to have a home somewhere
allthough I'm a backpacker who'll never stay anywhere

sitting in a funny dark
I'm watching myself walk

taking pictures when I'm awake
I'm watching myself walk