still blooming

From the poem Bitter truth
While jumping
maybe fell
instead of mountain
into well
it may happen when keep going
many experiences
try to telling
obsessing pushes us
all to sell
accelerate on the way
toward dell
mind in palace
bady in cell
choose freely!
Paradise or hell
serenity starts
when no bell
much bitter truth
who will tell?
In Turkish language expression, they said:
The one who says the truth will be kicked out from nine cities, so who will tell the truth.
From The poem Me and wall
Me and wall
are eternal companions
it glances me
but
mostly stares intently
watchfully
I know by heart
each it's stain
spot
sometimes tempts me
to embrace it intimately
but
it is flat
I should be flat
like everybody
who wants
the others change themselves
toward their-esteem
sometimes
I am through of it
so boring
so annoyance
I turn away
but
again on the face of the wall
one time
I hurled a cup on it
first, it hurled me back
some pieces
then we laughed
face to face
soreness
I felt it
it pointed me
like Trump
you, you, you
thank you
you are innocent
I knew
two folded boredom
From the poem To peep through
I had chased blue
the night took from me
I chased silent
guardians destroyed it
heaven giggled at my struggle
I am hearing
it is raining
I pick pinkish-yellow breeze
during twenty-four hours
loneliness in cell
deeply in my imagination
it prevents me
from an adverse feeling
I found a crack in the iron door
to peep through
nothing-shaped-panorama
I want to grill emptiness
to become more delicious-like
when snuffed beyond all my
blue-shaped-strive
a fain puddle of green
struts help like
inner colors surround
on all virginity
with endless jollity
for ending mournfulness
and
doom
I'll smash all blooms
into thin patience chimney
to flam sole Jupiter everlasting-green
attitude is in all my mirage aura
and
pick up the pipes diligently
trembling of existence glee
by
diligently-shaped-will
From the poem Reborn cubic
My eyes become cubic
my heart becomes cubic
walls
cement
celling
iron
walls
cement
ceiling
iron
I'll be cubic
for their satisfaction
may
I'm pressed
to not roll
but
I'll be volume
and
conceive, pregnant
reborn myself cubic
cubic womb
cubic baby
cubic life
but
rolling volume
From the poem Like Van Ghog
Like Van Ghog
who c...