Murat Halici Poems

Monsiour Time

I know you Monsiour Time
You are the head of fourty thieves
...

Ah Madam Petri!
Your rage has ranged
With your voice which doesn't cling nowhere
As violets capture corners
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I am brewing with silence crazily
Notas have died long since
Time is a scorpion which stings itself
Loneliness is amirror which shows myself
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A shadow is hanged to hour-hand of the wall clock
Others are hovering around me
A horribleness scream is breaking away my torn past
Our laughing is squashed into a foxed photograph
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Life tricked our childhoods
For a few liar truths
We sold our our dream courts
As increasing the walls
...