Esref Ozan | The Bastard's Year

I.

a sooty trip in which

bells slowly ring

with the wet forest scent on my nose

moisture that fills cracked shells of my lips

brings the mourning to our sadness

forgetting is hard the same smell

that I have been carrying for a quarter age

what is drunk is the tears of evil

the life is a hallusination

a burden since the birth

heavy and big

its bitter is a secret poison in a gene’s pit

Travels in my vessels

ivies mixed maturity that burst from

my droopy eyes

tarantulas that appears front

climb to my branches from my root

what is felt is always the same which I remember

between four walls

moreover with the smell of wet forest on my nose

moisture that fills cracked shells of my lips

is seen by my eyes

gloom appears

the dull mirror that forgot its secret with mist

stands slowly in front of me

roaring grass holding from the roots of ivies

if it hears, it leaps the lion from its jug

causes Chemtrail clouds

time drowns

a howl is heard from the depths

I cant help looking at my eyes

the smell of wet forest on my nose

there are mushrooms under each tree

climbing ants are the messengers of a new start

from my spine to ends of my hair

they compete

leaves their larvas to my hair root

I mend the broken pieces of the mirror. 

II.

Between the illusions and the reality

While reality was closer

With the effect of the first fallen word

I felt asleep and

Then, spiders kept my cave.

I waited for my slap

Accompanied with the prophets who

Do not tell a secret from their voice

With their placenta, without their wise women.

Baby bats that are gnawing my left ear,

Buzzing side of my left ear and

Rising decibel of whispers are a divine psicose.

III.

The flood that blew out suddenly

it is as fast as the waves

that spread out to the beaches

a thousand one hundred kms per hour

Wishing to sit with his brainpower

on the clouds of the tramp's who is

an evident of the branda's colour change

in the balcony

the moment in which buildings star to

stand at attention,

the curse booming of the poets

who laugh until when they fall over,

boundless void to which is fallen

by fake smilings that don't own any passion

and a long trip heads to the parallel universe,

grave that destroys the phenomenon of time

by sweeting in parks and on empty banks

shaking, its jaw is locked,

the butterfly which flapping on the candle,

"bong roulette" in "Tesadüf"

trip fans who pass out in the holiest

level of friendship and listen to bubling sound

at six-thirty in the morning,

the holy generation who defend

his craziness to live freely

and hide his craziness to live freely

the last deer jumping on ice

the last worm appearing from the black hole

the last unshapely ice melting

Huxley's holy island and the secret

we should breathe the last smoke hard

or else how do we know this holy truth?

walk guys lets go to the sky's womb

thats what wise Einstein wants

smiling of stars engrage.

(Translator: Seda Suna)