This blog is moving.

Due to problems of accessing this blog from Turkey (where I live) I have moved everything to a new site: http://surrenderhoneypronto.wordpress.com/

Sunday, March 20, 2011

a merciless search is on the way
on the twisting streets of my memories
for a 'happy once upon a time' moment
and I remember:
had I truly liked myself
I wouldn't have spent a lifetime
running away
to become someone else.
but finding myself on the shores of
the ever expanding present back at home
can't help but compare myself
against a mirage of
this someone I once was
and wonder if all that journey
was for something. nothing?

Monday, March 14, 2011

our hybrid dreams
we sell on the short
like some twitter feeds
imprisoned within an
artificial constraint
and then
words fall upon words
hiding their secret
associations
under their false
trans-funk-crip-tion-al
pretenses
line after line

Monday, February 28, 2011

no writing mojo
don't know if this is
because of all the sad
winter mornings of the world
i spent looking at
pictures of the
beautiful people
at all the distant shores
i've been to
but don't regret leaving

yet i am here
watching conan
at the wee-hours of the night
and still no mojo

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

it is the
sound of train-wreck of a life
there preserved within the empty kitchens
and absent women
flowing with dubious extra care
cracked open in old rock concert posters
that nobody remembers coherently
even under a spotty sun
with a hallow core

ain't that fucking great

Sunday, January 16, 2011

threading the night with a feeling 
of something inescapably fleeting
that i don't particularly know 
   but desperately need 
it is a terrible blind fight
in the muddy labyrinths of my mind
under layers of anxiety and
   unfulfilled fantasies 
of the kind
which requires a lot of 
   quiet contemplation and talking

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

hungry for some unwarranted ironic wisdom 
my dim-witted conscience 
was handicapped by a wishy-washy ghost

static was all i could hear then on

but i got all the words you like
  right here in my pocket
with all the emotional content
  and the sincerity to go along with
right here
in my pocket
even if
empty rooms of my deliberate reason
and blossoming walls of my anger
made their bloody business 
to make sure that 
whispering cold waters of
my indifferent reflection were stopped
in their tracks permanently

i fucking hate that!