AS-Burning Love

Burning Love

We're hot
the Sun's kissing with all his might-
The World's on fire...

Ayten Suvak

AS-Cyborg

Cyborg

Lady green metal
Your circuits knit
Penelope's wits
Weaving human and
Inhuman words
Harsh reproaches
That clink when
Spoken in
Inner and outer space
Named after The Odyssey

Ayten Suvak

AS-Fathers' Day

Fathers’Day

Favours done to him
According to mothers’day rules
Take a deep breath
Hers deserves more shopping cruise
Eternal rivalry
Rests on her lap
Seeks for her love
Deus though buys Hera’s chain
Arranging mythology and
Yearning for a Kings’Day ever so majestically...

Ayten Suvak

AS-Sacred Pigeons

Sacred Pigeons

They are all over the mosques
Gray clouds of wings and saintly flies
It is a kind of secret more
Than the beliefs can hold
The way the birds are fed
Shows how our souls met
At the crossroads of holy and mundane
In one tiny bit of corn
Secular rules horn
What is left of divinity
God Damn Organisms
Frankenfood in pigeons’ corn
To feed us to the end
When all is metamorphosed
In Mother Nature’s porn...

Ayten Suvak

Northern Man

Northern Man

Northern man
I heard you the other day
I heard your sexy voice
I heard the romance in your dance
Northern man
In your pony tail I heard the nature
In your movements I heard the future
I heard the hope in your heartbeats
Northern man
I love to hear you always
I love to attend your program nowadays
Take me away with that northern wind
Man of the northern seas
You made me fall for you
Love on TV screen
With your eyes sea green
I’ll never be the same again
You’re my most precious gain
I want you as my hero
Why disappear from sight
While with all my soul I’m in flight
With you my northern man
To the seas of your showtime plan...

Ayten Suvak

AS-No

No kiss
No miss

No whizz
No quizz

I'm not in your lover list

No muse
No fuse

I'm not your poet
"...that through the green fuse drives the flower"(*)

I'm just a daisy and a simple lover...

Ayten Suvak

(*)Dylan Thomas

AS-Vagabond's Motel

We booked our room
In Vagabond's Motel
With your habit of finding faults
With each hotel
We became like vagabond Manuel
On every park bench rings a bell
"Lie down here folks
Make a hasty breakfast without yokes"
In every heart lies hopes
To live in the heart of nature
This fills both of us with rapture
Until we find out how hard is a wooden bench
Without a decent bed
So we just choose the name of the motel
In the direction of our vagabond dreams manual...

Ayten Suvak