Welcome and thanks for stopping by! Sadly I'm not active here anymore, but feel free to look me up in some other places:

DeviantART
~ Last.fm ~ Poets of the Fall Forums ~ Twitter ~ YouTube

Saturday, August 29, 2009

SÖYLE BANA

Dediğimi anlamamakta inat ediyorsun
Ama kabullendiğinde de çok geç olacak
Bunu sen de biliyorsun
Ama yine de diretiyorsun

Söyle bana
Benden ne istiyorsun?
Ruhum dışında

Zaman durmuyor, geçiyor
Ne kadar çabalarsam çabalayım
Senin hiç umurunda olmuyor
Ne de olsa olan bana oluyor

Söyle bana
Ne verebilirsin ki bana?
Sefalet ve acıdan başka

Benden değil, senden geldi esas şok
Geri dönüşsüz bir yola saptın
Çok geç kaldın artık, çok
Olanların unutulmasının imkanı yok

Söyle bana
Bir nedeni kaldı mı artık uğraşmamın?
Kendime işkencenin yanısıra

P.S.: No idea where Turkish and the story in the poem came from. The song I got stuck on and been listening to about an hour or so led me to write such a sad piece. Still don't know where Turkish came from though. O.o Anyway, here is a rough translation:

TELL ME

You persist on not understanding what I'm saying
But it will be too late when you accept everything
You know that as well
But you still keep on insisting

Tell me
What do you want from me?
Apart from my soul

Time won't stop, it's passing by
No matter how much I try
You never really care
After all, I'm the one going to waste

Tell me
What do you have to give me?
Other than pain and misery

The major shocker came from you, not me
You're past the point of no return
You're too late now, oh so late
What's happened can't be forgotten

Tell me
Are there any reasons left for me to keep on trying?
Except to torture myself

Saturday, August 22, 2009

BAD

I can't seem to fall asleep tonight
Have words going through my head
They were harsh, nevertheless right
Saying I'll always have an empty bed

I'm not mad, I just feel sad
Feels like I've never felt this bad

I feel I should stay indoors 24/7
Can't manage to be with the public
My personal hell is my heaven
I feel I deserve worse than I think

I'm not mad, I just feel sad
Fells like I've never felt this bad

It'll probably get worse though
It usually does

Thursday, August 20, 2009

NOT KIDDING

I realised my inspiration is dead
As I was lying thoughtfully on my bed
With the poetry book in front, pencil in hand
Staring away minutes as my eyes get filled with sand

It's way past my bed time, I should almost wake up
Birds outside greeting each other, going wussup?
And I'm still awake, thinking the minutes away
As I can't come up with anything to say

I used to write such great poetry
What the hell happened to me?
I can feel the poet in me dying
And no, I'm not kidding

Any ideas?