father1
FATHER DON'T YELL AT ME
to those who open their umbrellas
to keep the road dry...
father don't shout at me
you've driven away the nightingales from my forests
you've blown up the doors of my ears
the doors father the doors have gone away
taking the windows with them
the tenors have run away from the vocal chords
the mini dictators are all over the place
so many sopranos wanted to have you
but we could not part with you
father don't shout at me
tell me the tales of eagles that perch on a flag pole
how they were unable to see the hunters alas
with their piercing eyes
chance is a lie characteristic of the stars father
you've turned the stars into planets by spitting at them
you've hung fighting people on the neck of the world
I've written down the lies in my notebook never forgetting them the Ministers who mistook radiation for radio station the ruffian who sealed the ceiling of the Parliament with raw meat balls the postnatal pains of women who give birth to dwarf nations I've never forgotten the men who forgot their faces in their beards and their beards in their faces and the scattered pieces of the bomb in the fields of stinging nettle that turned Uğur Mumcu into each one of us I've never forgotten all those traps father far and near you are a toy lorry crushed by the road a tree of grief broken by the weight of heavy snow you've lent the spring to the stupid and they haven't brought it back how can we understand o father whatever happened to the sun if we don't have our spring father don't shout at me your words enter through one ear but deafen the other one I say to myself that I would like to be in Buenos Aires on Eva's peron a train that steals birds from darkness a fugitive from knives in the city where legs are thrown up by tango but it's good to be here, here without forgetting anything here where knowledge is more painful than ignorance here, opposite you time was something like castor oil in prison hours sailed on like vessels of thick blood in hospitals somewhere there were men who coucealed the honour of their wives in their tongues the children who were lost in TV channels the fish that clung to the sea in order not to fall into the sky and there were Lenin statues stored in basements in Soviet Russia why don't you put the walls in your head into your pockets father father don't shout at me you are not aware that the world is a postage stamp the sticky side of which is wetted by the oppressed until a black hole in the space swallows us you are a cat pushed over to the elevator cavity now is the time to say it the condition of the country is the work of the parties you voted for father but I am here, here without forgetting anything standing alert for life and our recent history father don't shout at me if a poem is wounded on its leg how far can it get father don't shout at me shout at yourself otherwise everything may come to an end |
