deepundergroundpoetry.com

iconoclasm -16.03.17-

See the thorns as they
splinter my ribcage
I beg no longer
for a helping hand
don't remove them,sir
don't remove them, maam
I'm good. I swear.

Tell them how you
really feel.

I don't
the Turkish side
of my mind keeps a
tight lid on everything
silently calling everything
a
son of a whore
fuck this,
fuck that

He said
my foreign
was beautiful

he traced my lips
with poison
my throat traced heights
to reach a God he didn't believe in.

(I fell off the top
of that castle
I am not worthy
I know this now)

A year ago
I met a guy
he was by all
accounts the kind of
Turk I thought I'd marry
courteous; prouder than me;
beautiful.

His name means
first moon.

We got political
I had him in my
spiderweb
of a palm

I told him
God doesn't answer
my pleas anymore.

He asked if I believed in Heaven
I said 'Maybe, but I am not going to end up there,
see.. i'm one of his worthless servants because
I don't bow...'

Gavur
Gavur
GAVUR

I'm not an infidel, brother
I just don't believe in
entities, deities, the
all powerful.

but you believe in heaven?
I remember nodding

I lied to him then
and
he freed me
thinking
I was
lost to the ways
of another home.

I am lost
just not in the
way he believes I am
He opened his heart
to a girl who could never
sing from the same
hymn-book

but would have gladly learnt
how and why
  if he wanted more.

He asked me recently
whether I plan to visit
Home Him A place I miss.
'Maybe' i'd said.
Maybe...
Written by Undivided_Praxis
Published
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