Antimatter (Neo Surrealist Poem)
A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the
purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on
the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky,
and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound
became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following
a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space.
The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent.
A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon.
It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where
the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock.
When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be
heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space,
where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything
as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed
wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths.
The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before.
In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon.
Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold.
The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the
soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones.
The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the
red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and
magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock.
The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet.
From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with
colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could
move up and down to see the red light that refracted out of
the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could
imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths
such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow.
The sea shone brightly as a sky full of red and bluish comets having tails like trains carrying hydrogen cyanide.
Strange, sharp and cutting words wounded the mouths stopping the thoughts to breathe.
There is a sounding rain
falling down on the waves of the sea.
There is a water singing.
There is a wet song.
There are wet ears
There is a wet feeling of love
developing in the
amniotic sac of the spiritual womb
and needing to be born
within both of us.
Variable Reality (postmodernist poem)
I see my snowy steps disappearing into the
snow. The coldness will swallow them.
The wet winces the snow, wetter than any wince.
I am more involved in a sharp snowless stretch
than I was ever. I forgot that I’m existent. I try
to remember. A cloud is tossing its white to rain.
Nothing never rains outside, everything rains
inside. Everything is tossing firstly before raining.
The trees always feel this. They are existent.
The trees need to be existent. This freezing rain
is breaking the tree limbs. Their branches are
encapsulated in glaze ice. I need my steps back.
I hear a song coming from the coffee house. There
is a coffee stain on my right shoe. I take a taxi to go
nowhere. This rain falls down over the snow blanket.
The snow is existent until it becomes a bed for the
falling rain. I can be existent as long as I’m not cold.
This rain is not a tropical one, and I cannot care less.
There is something moving toward. It’s my body. There
is something having no beginning and no end. It’s the
movement in losing time. Rain and snow need time
to prove their similar personality and their different
appearance. Time is existent. I’m not existent in another
particular time. I can’t come into existence twice.
Love And Butterflies
In their cocoons, mates are
the little butterflies with growing
wings while dreaming
of the sky, dreaming
They need to leave their white
colored balls, because they are
going to find
of their dreams.
In the morning,
the butterflies rise up to the sky
from the cocoons.
In the evening,
The soul mates rise up to The Lord
after leaving their
They reach the clouds of Love,
the divine reason
over the human limits.
This rain keeps falling
in both senses.
There is about falling up, my love.