Are they really?

Are there differences between the 1st World humans and the 3d World Humans?

I started writing before midnight and finished after midnight and then, I realized that that was yet another pointless night in pointless existence!

To understand 'Reality' or to understand one's own 'Self' means to delve into abstractions, and here we inevitably discover difficulties in the understanding given the limitations of human knowledge.

Who's talking to whom? And who's the 'real' you here?!

Does it make any difference if were to do this or that? Really? So, why don't you do it?

Who's 'right' and who's 'wrong'? Or, is the entire question pointless?!

An Epitaph on Humans, Humanity and all the rest of it.

Why don't we give awards to murderers and pedophiles?

What would be like if you were to live on the Moon forever?

Another suicide. Another statistic.

What can you do or should in these circumstances?

Was it Betrayal? Or fear? Or indifference?

Will You intervene? Or forget me?

When does this mental disease, Panic, end?

Howls, shrieks - either way, it is fun to hear the Mad.

How much does it cost to breathe?

Jesus and Judas.

Even the 'threat' of a Panic Attack is scary? Really?

Asking the 'right' people will not neccessarily give you the 'right' answers.

It's Fun!

The Joy of Panic.

What 'human' can Jesus not endure? Imagine.

Falling and especially so when you have a severe fear of heights.

Think of all the Catholic sex abuse cover ups - why? What does that say of Western nations that do not wish to Prosecute the Catholic church for these human rights violations?

See the Mad One in front of My Mind..

Listen to unknown, forgotten Sermons, and Sacred Antiquated Holy Texts that breathe Decency.

Discarded remnants of a vibrant, loving Life, indeed.

Secure, warm, content, free from threats, amidst ponds and forests.

Visiting Tombs at Night!

Seriously, try one!

What happened to the nation that was created to escape evil, injustice and colonialism?

A blinded eye that cannot see inside herself is struggling to find other ways to seek serenity and peace of mind.

A pretender, in need of money, is trying to sell his heart, but, everyone seems to realize that the heart is actually made from worthless plastic...

Death of inspiration, death of hope; what then is left for Man?

The birth of sorrow is the first realization within Man that there is dysfunctionality existing within his heart and lifestyle.

A murder thinking about how he can actually do the act or the procedure of repenting.

The only life he had, he had to end it, and it end so violently.

Soft words, vivid images, burning feelings, etched for no one...

A man sees by chane a beautiful and frighteningly precocious girl and finds himself unable to understand what truths this little child is expressing.

This poem was written by a suicidal person - swho is, so far, unsure wether to committ the act or not.

Life becoming routine, just as humans becoming so similar in their wretched behaviour.

Decadence! The essence of life! What Man loves the most.

What do psychiatrists? They just talk to you, that is all. Anyone can talk!

Probably one of the most pleasurable moments in one's life.. Try it!

The severely sad are struggling now to cope, faering suicide, and yet, fearing life itself more.

Why is that when so much Depravity exists in our hallowed Civilization - why is it that no one seems interested to change the way matters are?

If the Victims are themselves far too scattered in their minds to think and plan anything cohesive, then what Hope can there exist? Any?

A definition on the Decay of the Mind of a Man who is forever at odds against himself.

A Theologian advises an Unbeliever what to do with his life.....

A Hermit is trying to express his love and yet, the distances have been far too far!

Vincent's visions 'neath that starry, starry night just before he painted that masterpiece.

What extremes Man goes to achieve his ambitions and trampling on the emotions of any other human who stands in his way!

What a joyful scene to experience wartime surgery for the injured soldiers as the doctors, nurses, staff and surgeons frantically operate on these gruesome creatures, some of whom are deformed beyond human recognition.

A foolish dog, loyal as ever, having befriended Man, discovers where that creature left him at......

How can I, a follower, asks our Lord, how can I follow you, when all I feel, see, witness, experience are burning lashes and wounds within my fragile mind?

A Poet is discussing his/her difficulties in doing anything productive due to the soreness in his/her brain/mind.

A Sane/Insane human is attempting to describe Life and discovers it to be Mad in its futile essence!

Contradictions exist happily side by side such as the proverbial love and hate. They are really two shades to the same colour in my mind.

I was there for so long, and then I grew old, and only then did you become interested in my mind?

Words written by Judas Iscariot after he betrayed Jesus; is he filled with remorse? Or is it all fake?

Words written to a bastard who just would never listen to anyone except to the vermin voices of his own mania.

The Prophet hollered: "SNOWFLAKES FOR THE HUNGRY, WHILE OTHERS CELEBRATE THE WEATHER!" Who's listening? Well, who's reading this anyway?

This odd character is seeking to 'find' womanhood, but my question is: what exactly is 'womanhood' in the first place? Or, am I asking the wrong question?

This poem was written when news was heard that a priest committed suicide. How can that be? The nation was really shocked and begged politicians to see the moral state of our nation is at. The politicians, of course, did nothing, while a paradoxically slumbering and disturbed nation continued on with its lives.

Is the 'logic' of life violence, arrogance and obscenities? Yes it is!

A wife sees her only salvation is through others helping her.

People begging for help, faith in them, support, and love: how many times are we betrayed and lied to?

This poem is written by someone who, instead of leaving a will to settle out his money to beneficiaries, actually chose to write a poem instead!

Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention...

Yes, we've all heard it before: she could get any job, however low paying, other than being a prostitute....

Quite a boring poem actually.

I've been wandering all my life with no aim and certainly no destination and this is what it's all about!

What is the difference between the Devil and evil humans?

Think of all the tyrants in our recent history, the living, dying and the dead, and think what words they really wish to express as a reason for their erratic behaviour.

If, due to life, I have changed a little bit too much, don't worry if you should see me; yes, I'm not the same, I guess, but that's what life dishes out to us, no?

I am not what you see, for I'm wearing my heart like a clown, pretending that you're still around!

Perhaps it is better simply to be a voyeur in this odd theatre of existence. To join it would really mean you become one of the sick clowns, no?

Why wouldn't anyone want to listen to what evil has offer to us, by way of advice?

Contradictions confound the logician presumably because logicians require sense and, well, logic! So, we have a really annoying paradox here and that is why logicians can tend to be paranoid!

It is 'easy' to say hatred is a negative emotion, however, if you have had to swim through acres of insults, injustice, humiliations, poverty, believe you me, by then, it would not be such a 'negative' emotion to have!

My first born son, Izzet, who no longer lives with me - this poem was written when he was a mere one and a half years...

The idea of 'giving', for some people, is wrong. Instead, take, take and take some more!

Preaching hope when people are living in the blackest abyss is a somwhat difficult task, I think.

Last words a dying man needs to write for God knows who's goiing to listen to him! Good luck to him, anyways!

I am cynical, I am suspicious of everyone because 99.99% of life is based on corruption and humans who haven't a clue 'who' they even are!

Somewhere out there, there's an angel looking out for you, trying to converse with you - but you're far too removed from that little one to hear any of his words, or or his feelings for you...

Unable to any more from a world of injustice, can you - the powers that be - accept me and allow me to be a part of you?

Try it once at least! It can't hurt you all that much, can it?

Lover and Death conversing about Suicide: what do we do here? Is there a role for anyone else to help here?

Logic dies, meanings die, memories die, restraint dies, vulgarity flourishes, evil succeeds, immorality and vice erupts - what else can we say when drunk humans get together?

Romance doesn't exist! How many times do we need to say it? It is just a moronic phase wherein two morons are drunk, and then, when they sober up, the 'romance' is dead!

Broken English, broken grammer, let the man write whatever last words he may wish to write!

Let us imagine that hope can be! Let us permit ourselves that peace shall be! But what if I can't believe in hope in the first place?

If Christ can no longer, hear, see, talk or feel anymore, then, unto whom do we talk to?

Until we accept that life is little more than a brutally difficult time for us, we can never even begin to get out from our emotional loneliness, anxieties and fear.

Maybe this too bitter a poem! But for 99% of Humanity it isn't so. The problem is that only 0.01% of the 1% who live comfortable lives bother to 'know' what it feels like to live like the rest of the 99% of Humanity and that is why there is so much ignorance on this subject...

Too many humans pray that 'peace will come', fine, very fine; but when will boredom ever cease to exist from our tortured lives?

Is there any point to speak out against global perversions, depravities and evil?

Can one think of suicide without being morbid? If death is 'freedom', then why is it depressing to think of liberation?

Imagine finding a letter signed by one 'Sarah'; can it really be a woman called 'Sarah'? Or did the author create that name? Or can the author be a man? Does it actually matter?

So much of memories when we were young are a mishmash of so many images, emotions, colours, music, and the net result? It depends on your mood, doesn't it?

Words written centuries ago - does it mean any different just because it was written back in antiquity?

Does justice ever catch up with the sinners? No, I don't think so. I really don't think so..

There is one proven fact: Man is evil and your life will be a repetition of yesterday, and your tomorrow will be a repetition of your today!

Poor cousin of mine Haydar; he fought throughout the Iran-Iraq War from 1980 till 1988. Then he had to fight up north against the Kurds in 1989. Then, in 1990, he was part of the Kuwait invasion. In 1991 he had to endure the US attack. Then, from 1992-93 he saw further battles until he was finally released from the Iraqi Army. Then, they decided to sentence him to death - why? Because he was discovered to have a satellite dish which was not allowed in Iraq. Imagine that! All those of sacrifice, and then because of a dish, you are sentended to die!

I once had a severely alcoholic friend, Martin Melia, and I eventually found the courage to tell him that basically if he continues like this, he's going to day. I was a freshman in Tufts University, and Marty was a sophomore; 1982. When I finally told him what I intended to tell him, he stopped playing guitar and looked at me softly, saying, "Ayad, you think I don't know this? I know I'm killing myself." That really shocked me, because I really thought that I had told him life-saving news! Marty died later. God bless ya, Marty mate...

Begging to be welcomed by someone, anyone in order to escape from the loneliness and isolation that is crushing upon any human being.

The failure who finally admits that he has lost everything: what does he do next? Keep hoping?

Was Stalin a 'great' man? Did all his actions, which caused the deaths of millions, worth it? Didn't he make Soviet Russia into a world power, second only to the United States? Or, was it all never worth it?

I spent my student years in Boston - and like all cities, it has the good, the bad and the really ugly side to it.

A priestess, despite her own difficulties to contend with, tries to preach to her listeners and assumes that, somehow, they are 'understanding' some of her words, only to realize later that her congregation are from being in tune with her at all...

My nighmares are so organized and intricate in their details; and I wonder 'who' is thinking of all these secenes? Who planned them out?

How many think about their own death? Morbid? Think about it.

The stubborn idiot who cannot budge may, perhaps, sense the smile of reason? No, actually not, I don't think so. Not in a million years!

What or who killed art? What happened to Michelangelo? Titian? Can anyone seriously say that so-callede 'modern art' is art?! I think not!

This poem is written about a person suffering from mental illness and the despair in not being able to do anything about it.

Will peace of mind ever to come? Will an age of serenity come? Will security be finally achieved? Am I talking a load of rubbish?!

When a man is so lonely, it follows his humble telephone is also going to be so lonely...

A poem for my first born boy: Izzet, who no longer lives with me.

The sons and daughters of Adam are so vile and I can't understand how some people do not accept that! Take a look at human history - all you see and read are wars, atrocities, enslavement, exploitation, rape, pillage - and, then you ask me 'How come I think Man is evil?!'

A poem for my then three children, Natasha, Isidora and baby Izzet!

Routinization in life can be difficult, but if your routine is actually pleasant, then we cannot say the same situation exists, can we?

Hope is fundamental to one's continuing existence in difficult times, isn't that correct?

Where the times appealed to us for serious change; where meanings sincere searched for our whereabouts and where ragged children dying cried tears that were bleeding blood. What a world and what a life indeed!

No one can understand what panic is - just as no one can understand what rape is, except for the victim of course.

Those who witness the fragility of a suffering soul and mock; what do you say and feel? Turn away! For Man is truly vile!

How many sad people do you know who have so many horrible traits and, yet, they will not budge one milimetre from them! No matter who talks to them, and no matter how conving the light may be, they simply do not budge. To them their ideas, thoughts and characteristics are made of the hardest known steel in the universe!

Rape is not when a man wants to show that he has 'greater power' over woman; rape is quite simply when a sub-human carries out his sexual gratification no matter what the cost will be -moral or legall.

You laugh in your mind, because they scream inside their hidden walls; sorrowful children, who see pain as their pillow...

When you realize that those you have been asking for salvation are not, in fact, the humans you should be directing your gazes to. Seek your salvation where you firmly know is the real, serious place.

If you admit that you are a complete and total loser, then what should you do? Well, how about changing your failing ways? But what if you cannot change yourself? What, do away with yourself?!

Can peace ever be? For the lame? Those insecure? Anxiety ridden? Fearful? Panic? When will Peace come?

Reflecting your unknown futures - how can 'reflect' that which is unknown? This is truly absurd, I think so!

The wisdom of who you are is the moment you are existing within; this moment is what defines your 'Self', your 'Consciousness'.

I have tried to speak, and overcome the pleasures of stupidities. What did you come here for, then? If not to surprise yourselves with empty laughter?

Why is there so much injustice? Billions of human beings suffer daily from oppression, working for next to nothing; while human slavery for men, women and children is a global business. Why?

When someone dear to you is gone, do you want to hear the hurtful truth, or not? Do you wish to hear impersonal words and feelings? What do waves mean to you? Cold anger, or warmth gentle? And what type of days will be coming to you? Or, are such days already dead for you?

What a dismal feeling when you realize that you've been too late and you just happen to know that it was all your fault and now there is nothing you can do about it?

Western Culture sadly is completely infected with stupidities. How can we call it 'culture' I am not sure. But the days of Michelangelo, da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, are long, long gone...

The value of life is the moment you are experiencing now. That's it. Nothing exists beyond the now, which, in itself, is fleeting of course.

Why are farewells so hard without tears? Most of the people you're feeling for you soon forget within hours or days anyway! So why is seperation hard? Me: Clueless!

I've been searching for Womanhood, and I'm not sure I've found it at all. Maybe I'm looking for the rainbow? Or, maybe my brain is not wired for the task? I don't really know.

Peace may come when humans will write humane, compassionate, loving laws, edicts, policies.. Peace will not come though because Man cannot write one fair law for Humanity.

Who will inform me of my mistakes, my ills, my errors? Will I change upon hearing? Probably not. So, why critique then in the first place, because all we seem to be doing is to critique one another endlessly.

Love is the period of time when two humans are drunk with passion for each other, forgetting each other's obscene faults. Then, when they sober up, love goes away, and reality prevails, and the relationship or marriage dies away too!

Sailor; the voyager going nowhere really - just a creature going round and round the surface of a balloon.

Madness is like the ocean - forever changing, unsure, violent, calm, dark, light...

What is the solution to Man's endless catalogue of evil? From insensitivity, lies, murder, rape, sarcasm, character assassination, betrayal and so on? Or is it pointless? Is Man born evil? Yes, that is MY belief, believe it or not...

Stupid of this earth, why are they so powerfully united? Why do they run the world? Because of our stupidity!

Being is an imprecise truth, and truth is an imprecise reality; imprecise reality is herself unsure of her own definitions - then how can we compute all these proposed equations of the Human Mind?

Why is Man so evil? Why does Man committ every thinkable satanic criminal act? Why can't Man be peaceful, compassionate and serene? Why am I asking idiotic questions?

How many women and girld are beaten every day? What is society doing about it? I think the answer is: nothing at all.

University days makes so many people idealists, romantics, change the world types; how intoxicating it all was! And that was what it all was: hot air!

Is Suicide wrong? Is it an escape for the weak hearted? What if your mind simply cannot bear and endure its existence and its daily surroundings anymore? What then?

The sunsets finally meant something to me; in my own autumn years...

The greatest threat to Man is him/her Self. It is Man's unwillingness to study him/herself and to even contemplate changing the offensive and self-damaging aspects of his/her dysfunctional Mind.

Friendless friend! Somehow I deemed all others were somehow more understanding; I guess I misunderstood it all.

Your eyes I don't wish too see; an eye-ball is evaluating me far too much than is neccessary.

Sometimes, before you know it, you may find yourself facing an unsure suicide.

What monks sang in their vows of stupidity, I cared not; What immoral, repulsive parents preached, I heard not; What sleazy, thieving religious humans counselled, I felt not; What advanced, genius textbooks spoke, I heard not...

Too cynical; too introverted or extroverted? Too temperamental? Too what? Too nothing? That's possible, too.

This is actually a song I wrote, and so the words needed to fit in with the structure of the music.

Weeping Woman! As a journey we are destined to suffer and our lives are all predetermined. Really so?

Evil for fun, evil for no reason, perpetrated by the sickest living 'entities' known Mankind on earth: child beaters.

Love is the drunk, adolescent interval between humans when they passionately and fanatically believe in the images, masks, mirages, lies, deceptions and sheer delusions in front of them. Once they wake up from this dreamy, intoxifying state, then so too, does love itself promptly vanish away!

Fall sweetly to graceful sleep, and surrender your pained mortality to the Hereafter!

We get obssessed about a subject or person or idea and we let it guide our lives. But can it be that the object of your obssession is non-existant?

Not a subject easy to discuss, paint and write about; but it must be done because it is happening this very moment.

How many hypocrites are inside you? How strong are they? How do you even recognize them?

What will Youth do with their romantic, egalitarian dreamful visions? How far will they feel forth for their lofty visions? And then, ... what?

The dancing whore, who loved her sins far more than she cared for her own fragmenting brain.

Aren't all bird 'innocent'? What kind of title is that?! No sense...

To understand the truths of one's failures, and what they signify to one's Self, is one part of success. It is, alas, a difficult subject matter.

Talented Man, talented in solving economic problems such as poverty? Talented Man, talented to end sorrow? Talented Man, I see you as Talented as a rock.

If my life was to be an ending dilemma, that I could not solve - what then?

I stand lame, bland and pathetic, while you laugh joyfully at the History you so proudly create. Who am I and who are we to change anything?

For my son, Izzet, who does not live with me. The pain is a scourge.

The dangerous emptiness that lurks within you is an imposition imposed by your own Self; a prisoner, in effect, imprisoning himself wilfully!

To be with and to be forced to associate with a vile sub-human is one of the most unbearable things in life; and yet, if 'forced', then you have to do it.

A writer tries to explain to his bored listeners what Life is all about; but all these efforts and attempts are, in my opinion, really idiotic in the first place, precisely because the audiences out there and everywhere are not interested to hear what they half-suspect that they already know and are very happy about it - as long, as they are on the winning side!

A man has studied this Madwoman for so long and he does not quite understand if she is a saint or a sinner; if she's actually a genius or a complete wreck of a human being - and in the end, he decides, he can longer care for her.

Two Madmen fight each other obsessively, until sweet Society locks them up in jail. Yes, and then what?!

Peace, Souls: herewith are the blessings of certainty.

Do not ignore the wretched, the miserable of this sorry planet. Or, maybe we can ignore the wretched of this indifferent planet?

When we will accept that the Meek have gone? Who are we to talk to now? Where have all the Meek gone?

Why is it that the academicians, professors, thinkers, philosophers, writers, poets, artists, scientists tend to be the most arrogant type of human beings? It's true - just talk to any of these cretins and you will be astounded at their scathing arrogance and God forbid you even try to say something new; for the intelligentsia abhor - repeat abhor - anything new that might rock their comfy world.

Sometimes, when you are in the darkness of trouble, you are actually standing right next to the door of freedom, and yet your insecurities, fears, anxieties and inconsistencies lead you to be frozen in time, and so you stay trapped in an evil wilderness.

Man is by far more evil than any animal on this planet. Man not only enjoys murder and torture, but Man also enjoys and loves thinking about how to kill, torture in more brutal methods than ever before.

Why do humans seek to murder, steal, lie, oppress and back stab? Why? Is it in their genes? In the chemicals of their brains? Why?

Farewells are the hardest things to do; so what about saying farewell to life itself?

Yawning winks - tempting, or disgusting?

To break free from a stultifying, bland, vague existence; how beautiful can that be!

Do you fear Death? Why? If you believe in God, then why should you fear Death - unless, of course, you were a Sinner? And, if you're an atheist, you better fear Death!

Who are the Sad of the Earth? Do you any of them? Why are they sad?

What is life all about? For those who know the answer, good for you. For those who don't know the answer, what are they supposed to do? How can a driver drive a car and not know where he/she are suppoosed to be going?

Life is all about lies, deception, acting, tricking people and so on. He who succeeds in fooling people, succeeds in life and he isn't a good deceiver will fail in this worldly life!

Criticizing humans insist on criticizing you, and dragging you on the freezing streets paved with jagged decitful words and masked feelings.

A woman trying to understand herself.

Where else can we seek shelter in this life? This life is but a Trial run by friendly psychopaths. And we can love life too - for a little while anyway.

When I saw him, I said: "Speak to me with the Eyes of Man!"; what elderly whispers slept therein, eyes of seventy or eighty years ago; what dust and tears you have carried with you. Will your words affect me?

Who needs who? Who benefits from who? Therein are the seeds for the creation of 'friendships' and, of course, 'love'.

Why is there hatred out there? Is that a serious question? Only a moron living an isolated life can seriously ask this question, and well, this poem is for these souls.

We look at her, and feel so sorry for her, but she's beyond help. We leave and some human takes her back to her home as she is far too oblivious to do anything functional anymore. Wasn't she once a beautiful, proud and optimistic woman?

Your scattered Soul needs substance from words, gestures and promises. And you must no longer peep at the liar's glances, that felt so free to do as they believe - while you just stood there, consuming nothing from your insecure, masked saviour.

Children of today! Your words are soon to be forgotten; your happiness died in its childhood and the adults that emerged have wept ever since, as the cold viciousness of Civilization succeeds onwards!

Tell the children sorrowful, do not despair; life offers more - yet, in us, and with us, within you, speak not hollow feelings, that are unpoetical in the midst of your sorrow.

Even our greatest achievements demand that copious amounts of human blood must be paid - the pyramids, for example.

Did your friend become your friend because he/she needed something from you? If so, are they still classified as a 'friend'?

What do these charecters have in common? Do they have anything in common?

It is not my intention to tempt, but to speak of truth. Sadly, all I see is that you feel tempted.

Our united Truth is receding into an Unknown Mist.

Is anyone listening? The answer is a straight 'no'. How grim, indeed...

Do you believe in 'Love'? Do you believe in 'Humanity'? Well, if you do, then don't bother reading this poem!

There are some people I really DESPISE; hating them people say is not good. Well, I heartily disagree: hating them is positevely good for the soul to cleanse itself!

What is important in our lives? Money? Morality? Competing? Or, just surviving by making sure we get our wages paid to us?

Realize that life is evil and infested with the most hideous subhumans; for the good not only die young, they don't add up to more than three or four people per million.

How can 'politely' tell someone that they are ugly? Is it possible? But you must; you have to tell the ugly ones that they are atrociously repulsive. Of course, by 'ugly', I mean their hearts.

Should you or I listen to anyone who is sorrowful? What do you think?

Failure is when you admit that you have failed in every aspect of your existence. Then what?

An introvert and an extrovert once met and found themselves to be in complete harmony. How odd, indeed.

Who cares if a loser dies? Do you really care?!

Falling and having a fear of heights!

And an irrelevance we've all been, didn't you guess? So finally die tonight, and therein you feel relief!

If you are an unbelieving soul, then what is the use of you searching for the 'Unknown Saviour'?

Tell me, then, just how come I am such a proof of all your lies?

What Spirit?

In this planet here, planet revolving and my stationary life, I swear - so the chances come in like coincidences, whilst the dancer explained her motions to senile judges.

Where are we when we are in our loneliest moment? Who are we in our most loneliest moment?

This life of ours can truly be so much more than what we living with.

Sudden eye! That looks to try to stare at a Deceiving Truth; can you then ever understand me?

Dear Unknown Friend, this is what I see. In this night of ours shared, the corners of the world never existed, save in our needs for convenience.

I heard a nun bitterly sing of rape, while professionals in business, yelled: "Why did you become a reculse?"

Onto soul's drowning and insecure by life's concrete knowledge that was stabbed by wealth!

The Soul lives in its Ocean, and the Ocean lives in its Soul. Is there harmoney or conflict? And how do we relate to these phenomenon?

Who is the Unknown Soldier? Should I even care? Why should I care?

Who controls your Fate?

Will you understand me, my baby boy?

Rejoice! For peace will come!

Can anyone be a 'priest' and be an atheist? Isn't that an oxymoron?

Is life really savage?

The life we want to live!

For whom the words toll?