SENTINEL POETRY (ONLINE) #31, JUNE 2005. ISSN 1479-425X |
KUBILAY AKMAN
THE BALAD OF HOBO
My drifter feet are frightened by the eternal souls of nymphomaniac streets
pulsation in the pubic seed of the town trembling as the lost shadows mirrors, bleeding halos
I confuse, confuse, again and again who was the first
tell me thirsty streets and avenues, even squares with gibbets of my unborn children
unborn as well as unlived, unloved, undirtied, untired my sons, my daughters… gallows is their present you
tell me, through your thirsty lips who was the first… I confuse as a figure artist, always
confuse never confess
listen to voice of hungry dogs, listen the songs of birds you never saw measure is a game for our age
measure is the great pleasure of them although you never accustomed it
a cage covers your life
like a specter your age is your main prison
you have forgotten all the ways to escape feel the frenetic screams of the town in your dreams
however whatever you feel, whatever you taste are companies of your lost corridors running away from you in the horizons
lie to you, all of them, even the pulsation even prostitution of scared sparrows with narrow-minded squirrels
try to forget try to begin again to the same convolution
restart rethink reconsider
redecay, rewaste, redisappoint,
and although I do not remember
I will rebury you again and again my periodic ancient style punishment in this postmodern chaos
nothing I have, except you, I should love you For this reason, if only!*
* The last quatrain is a quotation from Cemal Sureyya (1931-1990) the contemporary Turkish poet.
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