Come On Mama, Kill Me! by Serkan Engin - HTML preview

 

 

COME ON MAMA, KILL ME!

 

Poetry

 

SERKAN ENGIN

 

 

 

 

 

Paper Boats of Poetry Publishing

2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paper Boats of Poetry Publishing

 

Poetry Series: 1

Poet: Serkan Engin

E-Book Designed by: Serkan Engin

Turkey, February 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LET’S DIVORCE TURKEY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Notes of the World Symphony

 

I am a red Laz boat cruising
on the mountains of Kurdistan
where my Kurd and Turk brothers are burning
by falling on the ground syllable by syllable
None of the requiems is able to express
the pain of the stone-throwing Kurdish children
raped in the hell prisons of Fascist-Kemalism

I picked up Armenian roses from my dreams
against racism in Turkey
Impish sparrows of my hope
are warbling Lazish
on the shoulder of the life
I am kissing in Greek
the wet sentences of the night
in the moonlight
I am hugging the spring in Zazaki
from the most petted place of its waist

We were burned million times at Auschwitz
where conscience was dead
Our dreams were bayoneted
72.000 times in Dersim
with disgusting smile of savageness
We were toys for torture plays in Iraq
with American style “freedom”
We were Alevi people shot street by street
from the heart of the civilization
in the cities of Maras and Corum
We were 353.000 Pontian Greeks massacred
by racist desires of bloody epaulets
Western “civilization” ignored
the slaughtered flowers
on our collars in Srebrenitsa
Our Armenian lullabies
were annihilated 1.500.000 times
in the bosom of Ararat
They broke the arms of our freedom
with stone in Palestine
They chopped our childish enthusiasm
with machetes in Rwanda

While profit pyramids of
pharaoh arms industry companies
are raising mephistophelian
on dollar basis
While the chairs and epaulets
of glutton selfishness
are growing fat

I refuse to add even one more letter
at the tail of warmongering sentences
Because I love all notes
of the world symphony

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Barbarian and Ms Daisy

 

yes, you are right Ms Daisy, they came

with the wild winds of Greed, brutally

slaughtered all the innocent letters

written on the wall of Grace, even also babies

by burning them alive, before most of them

could not have a toy in their short-length life

with an insufferable last sequence

 

yes, you are right Ms Daisy, they were

merciless hyena droves born from

Racism, biggest evil of all times,

the bloody verses of Quran

written on the hilt of

their curved swords

feeding their violence

by promising them heaven

as they killed more “heretics”

 

they were the servants of

remorseless epaulets

they were the slaves of

their own Greed and Savageness

slobberingly

 

yes, you are right Ms Daisy, they

raped little girls and young women ferociously

without caring their screeches

tearing the deeply embarrassed face of the sky

same horrific verses on their groins

and the permission of pimp epaulets

on their ignoble waists

without any mercy

 

they were the slaves of

their own Greed and Savageness

slobberingly

they were the servants of

remorseless epaulets

 

and unfortunately

they were my ancestors

shame on humanity

worst predatory hordes of world history

 

now, it is hard to erase that “Barbarian” soubriquet

written on my forehead before my birth

it is hard to change to be known as savage

even I am a man feeding his ant friends

with granulated sugar at home

it is hard to explain that I have never hurt

even a wing of a sparrow

I know Ms Daisy, it is hard to introduce me

to your parents

as the man you want to live with

until infinity

 

Serkan Engin

 

(Dedicated to Anahit Manukyan, my best reader in Armenia…

Dedicated to all victims of Armenian Genocide, Assyrian Genocide, Nestorian Genocide, Chaldean Genocide, Pontian Greek Genocide perpetrated my Turk ancestors…Dedicated to all genocide victims of World history at Rwanda, Bosnia, Cambodia, Darfur, Holocaust and others…)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Negros of the World

(Including pilfered stuff from Turkish poet Ceyhun Atif Kansu)

“Bring me the negros, all negros of the world
Only they carry my coffin”
Last words of street child Selami...

I mean all negros of the world
Bring here all negros
Not only the black skinned ones
Bring me all belittled people
I mean all ignored ones
“the stepchildren of Allah”¹
on whose face the Pain is
flapping like a flag,
I will swear last time to capitalism and you
then I will fuck off from this damn planet

I mean all negros of the world
Bring here the street negros
who are written on the notebook of the life
like a spelling error
who are outright fired from
the abdomen of their moms
The ones manured by beating
watered by swearing
I mean the thistles
in the duskiest garden of Arabesque
whose history we memorialize
with scattered syllables
Bring me the ones saying “Love me with my fault”²
Bring the ones saying “Love fucked my mom, baby”³

I mean all negros of the world
Bring here the construction negros
with their dreams reclined on foreing land
the ones knitting the Reunion letter by letter
the ones ignored by pimps with necktie
Bring me the negros cleaning ladder
hero elder sisters with their palms
barricade for hunger
eagle wing on their kids

I mean all negros of the world
The massacred, assimilated, exiled negros
Bring me all pain birds massacred in Kurdistan
All bloody letters exiled from Dersim in 1938
Also the ones you carried out genocide in 1915
Bring me the mountains shushing the Past
in Armenian, Assyrian and Greek

I mean all negros of the world
I am a son of a bitch
I scratched my pains on the logbook of the sky
but nobody gives a fuck
although I scream with pain
how many ramshackle walls
are feeling chilly inside me
how many times the stumpy atlas of my name
have been damaged

I mean all negros of the world
This shit which I stuff in my vessel
to delay the Pain
has reached to overdose this time
but I live in the curse of all negros whether you can't see
one day all negros bring all ownership
and oppression masters to account
I have been heavy tonnage starved,
I was a bastard in this streets
all nettle nights and stray dogs know this very well
even my own mom doesn’t mercy me,
only sparrows search the place of my grave
I was born once but have been died countless times
every day in your cruel planet
Fuck your capitalism, your ownership greed
I am fucking off now by making my pain a mirror
to your dark consicience
Enough! Now put lousy newsprint papers on me
Anyhow the municipality buries my waif corpse
Bring here all negros

Serkan Engin

“The stepchildren of Allah”¹: Yilmaz Odabasi (Kurdish poet)
“Love me with my fault”²: Orhan Gencebay (Turkish singer)
“Love fucked my mom, baby”³: Serkan Engin (Laz-Turk poet)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let's Divorce Turkey

 

(Including pilfered stuff from Allen Ginsberg and k. Iskender)

 

Let's divorce Turkey, before our relation gets ugly

Let my poems stay with me and the custody of my broken fads with you

As you left me in so much hunger and homelessness, stick your “tiny ships”¹ up your ass

You have never made us play “box”² games full of wads of money

We, as you know, whom you blew up with a rocket at 14 years old in Lice³

Whom you raked with 13 bullets at 12 years old⁴, who are fighting for bread

by hitting the pavements at the crack of dawn, the kids who are shot

while going to buy bread⁵, the ones swelling up the fucked paunches of your chunky ones

I mean, as you don't give a fuck about us, your order sir,

we kick the bucket again in mines, building sites, factories

Fuck it, what kind of a value we already have in front of the profit margin,

Damn we,

who make love without insurance and live the happiness unrecorded

the ones producing new slaves for you by wrinkling their overshot youngness to the future

the ones whom the pimps with necktie don't deign to recognize,

the women looking after their children by collecting cardboard from dumps,

the sales girls attaching gloom to their dowries by installments,

the kids you accumulate for suicide and arabesque music

by beating and swearing a blue streak,

the ones trying to delay the hunger of their huge families

by a poky pitch on their neck,

“We, the stepchildren of Allah, the ones never backed up...”

“We, the ones with ripped out buttons, the ones without beach chairs, the ones without wine”*

 

I am opening your “box” Turkey; you don't have any more chance,

Here is the bullshit, good appetite to you,

Bury me inside a poem knitted with grief,

Cross my heart,

Otherwise I will divorce you!

 

Serkan Engin

 

¹”My son has a tiny ship (In Turkish: gemicik) not a ship” Tayyip Erdogan

² The ministers of Erdogan have been taped with shoe boxes full of bribery money taken from Reza Zarrab, but they are still free in Turkey, Reza is in prison in USA now.

³ A Kurdish girl named Ceylan Onkol herding sheep at 14 years old had been blown up with rocket by Turkish soldiers without any reason, and this horrible event had been explained as an “accident”. Nobody is punished because of this murder.

⁴ A Kurdish boy named Ugur Kaymaz who was at 12 years old with no gun staying at home with his family had been raked with 13 bullets by Turkish police as being considered a “terrorist”. Nobody has been punished because of this murder.

⁵ A Turkish boy at 15 years old had been shot in the head by Turkish police as being considered a “terrorist” while going to buy bread for his family during the “June Protests” against the dictatorship of Tayyip Erdogan.

* Verses of Kurdish poet Yilmaz Odabasi writing in Turkish from his poem named “The stepchildren of Allah”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between Cuba and Fatsa

“I did everything for and with my people”
Fikri Sonmez*

My heart belongs to Cuba, my comrades,,
I am the same age as
The children whose dreams
Have been kissed by Fidel and Ernesto.
My homeland is Fatsa in the year 1979,
Time period of Fikri Sonmez,
The best tailor of socialism.

Because of these, my comrades,
My sparrow life is
A daisy rain,
Between Cuba and Fatsa.

Serkan Engin

 

 

* Fikri Sonmez (Fikri the Tailor):

Fikri Sonmez was a tailor and socialist politician who served as the mayor of Fatsa district of Ordu Province in Turk