EVERYTHING SHOULD BE UNDER THE SUN...
NO New Nuclear Weapons... NO New Nuclear Targets... NO New Pretexts For Nuclear War... NO Nuclear Testing...
NO Star Wars... NO Weapons In Space...
NO All Types Of Weapons, War & War Culture...
We have only one WORLD yet! If we destroy it, where else will we go?
Living Is An Art
Poems of Mevlut CEYLAN
History

I and myself on a road
resilient as skin


I come from every house
altering the tedious words


The straight line
of destiny


Runs through all of us
we are all its ushers


I am the people
I am nothing

 
The same funerals run
through all of us

 


Fire



Heavens hacked down
on stricken stones


Ferreting flames
haunt my face


Put an end to mind
thought and curiosity


Deep in the ground
lies my groundless breath




Pilgrim

 
How many galaxies stretch
between these petals and these pilgrim eyes
yet distance can enhance the shrine of an absence

 
Here all colours live in ghettos
servants and acolytes of dankest altars


We are only prolific in ignorance
our every move smells of dead-ends


We are all short-listed
in the heart of the headsman

 
But surely we can think
of better ways
of saying farewell

 


Time

 
Removed from all covers under the sun
this book moves towards darkness
time always, the victim

 
I am the only one who's not sinning
yet the flesh unaware, goes on decaying
in steady working blackout


Killing one man is equal
to killing all man
the seasons behave differently


Wealth


There is a hell
in there, drifting parts of us
barking in pain
clutching disqualified layers
of sleep

 
In here, ceaseless souls
and a rose are in mourning
always there is one but only one
hammering question in our voice
Whose wealth is this dirt on our hands?

Final Greeting


My time has come
sure-footed
patient at every crossroad
saluting my burial ground
Yours respectfully

I am in front of demolished walls
shaking the nights, gathering
the eyes of history

 
I am the one singled out
to cultivate the well-tolled field
of exile

 
I am asked to feed
the magnetic north to empty words
we must know where we stand

 

Game

 
Death
you are a game
I play at nights

 
I lead you into day
like a child
so let us respect each other

 


Psalms


I said to the almond tree " Speak to me of God."


And the almond tree blossomed.

         God speaks

                Whoever seeks me finds me,

Whoever finds me knows me,

                Whoever knows me loves me,

                Whoever loves me, I love,

Whomsoever I love, I kill.

       


Sidna Ali the Muslim
(9th
century)



I am at your door
hold tight my deep
dedicated hands 


Fertile dust shielded my face
and in your presence
I cast off all my innate garments


I am the broken bones
of the faces on reserved spaces
remaking them endlessly

 

2


Leave me alone, keep to yourself
your human rights, your judgement and sentences
martian friends, you are the architects
of this mass grave under my feet

oh brother of every death that clings and wakes
to my body

I know no mystical cure for nightmares
I must carry horizons in front of my very eyes
printing with my every step on earth
the marching alphabet of love, and struggle

 

3



I want to stop this thing
this way of changing sins into manners
simply to evade detection and seizure

 
Broken waters flow under broken bridges
every momentum is degraded
brotherhood roams the deserts of insanity

 
Now I have come back to collect in my heart
the pains of things covered by ugly landscapes
I have come back to bear the brunt of redemption

 



E-mail: mevlutceylan@yahoo.co.uk
Date: Thu, 2 May 2002

   
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