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Ballad of Hobo
written by: Kubilay Akman
Category: Ballad
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
who was the first
I will rebury you again and again
my periodic ancient style punishment
in this postmodern chaos
nothing I have,
except flowing streets,
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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