Gencay & Bkaraer

Poem By Gencay

Common Poetry
poet Gencay
Poet Bkaraer


They talked about life the other day.
A life I didn't know about, a life I didn't live.
They talked about something called a dream.
A dream I've never seen before.

A life that the world only exists for someone
They said they lived that life to the fullest
The life We workers know is not so cute
We workers are the dead who keep their lives afloat.

In their eyes, as my teacher said, We are pests
Those who have given our future to exile
Between the four walls for a lifetime to call us life
They taught me to work nonstop.

But they have two arms and two legs like us
In a physical sense, we are neither missing nor too much
But they are enjoying themselves, and we are suffering
They're happy, they're tough, we're sad and we're hungry.

We have no luxury cars, no homes and no lives
We are workers, we have dusty, dirty and exhausting work
We have thousands of pounds of endless debt
We have friends who are disabled or dead at work.

It's not someone in heaven who gave us this as life
Besides, we didn't see anyone in the sky.
The ones who lit it on us as life
First, they supposedly ignited that "life."

It wasn't the life they gave us no
It was prison, exile, torture
It wasn't the life they gave us no
It was hunger, it was sadness, it was anxiety, it was despair.

They sleep for us, not wandering no
They gave sleep and work, for themselves
We've been working for thousands of years, hungry
They've been traveling for thousands of years, tok.

We are in fields, factories, cities and mountains
We sweat for twelve hours.
They are in gyms, entertainment venues
They sweat as much pleasure and joy as they want.

They've divided, limited, divided everything
Our color, our language, our emotion, our sleep,
How many prohibitions have they placed in our thoughts
They made us live with the toughness of the abdomen.

A Jewish proverb says;
"If a poor chicken eats, either the poor is sick or the chicken."
We're the poor, we're either sick or we eat
the food is sick.

Some people don't have the luxury of choosing food
There is no luxury in making the philosophy of what is to be eaten
They've never even heard of vegetarianism, vegan
They just need food, water and sleep.

Evil is the system that imposes it on them!
This vile system that imprisons their hands and lives
This system that imprison their dreams and futures
What is this, what kind of system is this?

They've trapped the working class, there's fire everywhere
Desperate, sad and tired, sleepless
They've forgotten that some things exist
And who will?

We. We'll remind poets.
What is a poet? What should the poet write?
How does a poet become a poet?
I'll tell you when my tongue turns.

If he can't help someone, our words
If we don't hear someone's pain, our mind
There is injustice! if he can't say our language
What good is it if the world knows us?

A poet, an observer is a poet
A poet is a poet if he is common to everyone's problems
A poet is a poet if he feels the troubles of others
A poet becomes a poet by embracing humanity.

Poet, my friends
He is a poet who does not shut up, is not afraid, is not afraid.
Poet, my friends
If he does not consider his life superior to anyone else, he is a poet.

The poet, not the one who deepens the well
The poet is the one who shows the way out of the well.
The poet does not sing folk songs of death
The poet is the one who expresses the value of life.

Poet, indifferent and no stranger
A poet is a poet who knows us like a friend.
A poet, not an ah eden for life that ends
The poet is the one who covets life that does not begin.

We are in what time, in what century
Where, to whom do we bow?
When we are, in what century
Are we afraid to say what we think?

We won't shut up, we'll talk
There's a life, believe me, we'll tell you about it
Full, happy, hopeful
We will not give our living being to inanimate matter.

It's like changing anyone's faith today
Of course, we do not have the slightest purpose or intention
But a big one that we believe will be useful
The truth is, I have to tell you.

The God you believe in didn't give you this life you lived
It works all day and fatigue your life,
That they may silence you and give thanks
It's unfair parasitic thoughts that are imposed on you.

To you, that God is merciful and generous
They kept saying it, didn't they, My Friend?
Based on the life you've been living, man.
Your God doesn't seem so merciful and generous.

If justice is delayed, there can be no justice
Justice is justice, if it is timely and in place.
Suffer in this world, enjoy in the other
That sounds funny and illogical even to you, doesn't it?

I mean, why Hell first to enter heaven?
There is also a great misconception and contradiction here.
I mean, my friend, of course.
If your God is merciful and generous?

Have you ever thought about;
Why don't rich people's children die in the army?
Why are they flesh and blood like us
Do they live a much better life than we do?

They made you forget to think, my friend.
But we, who are like you, will remind you.
That something is wrong and wrong
We'll tell you without fear of anyone.

Why Are you today a Mozart, Beethoven, Baht
Or you're not William Shakespeare?
Why Are you today an Edvard Munch, Da Vinci
Or not Pablo Picasso?

Because you didn't have time for art
Because you had bellies to feed
Because you didn't have free thoughts
Because he captured you, a despicable system.

Freedom begins with reading and understanding
He acts with courage and faith.
It is my advice to you
Just be a slave to your freedom!

"Death is not a life event. Death does not happen…"
Ludwig Wittgenstein He Was Saying.
They give us death every day.
It's time to rise, man, isn't it now?


Ben BKaraer.
If you meet someone in the last spring of your life
I've got that..

Gencay Akpinar
If you meet someone in the spring of your life
Eternal night and stars
From morning to spring, Gencay
Bkaraer from evening to autumn

We became the other eyes of each other.
We are a thought that lives in two separate bodies
We work as hard as our fathers.

Boss Newspaper punts
According to those who squint their eyes
We're pests.
Education doctor does not notice qualified workers
Bourgeois spending the night having fun
Bourgeois sleeping with pleasure in the morning
We labourers always went to work.

And the life of these pests
It would be a boring movie if we made a two-minute movie, wouldn't it?
The labourers have the deepest and quietest wounds.

The deepest wounds are silent
We're pests and labourers.
For workers who don't smell Wild Roses
We'll tell you about the Wild Roses.
We put him on the to-do list before he died.

He must tell the blind from an accident at work to see
Deaf in work accident,
We'll tell you how he should see it
It's good to wake up from a deep coma.

If all people are like rainbows
Equal to each other
Then why these storms?
Why do silent wounds have screams
I say we ask nature about the identities.

Flowers flowers in a thousand and one beauties
Why don't you have oppressive and oppressed exploitation?
Why is there no blind ambition competition? ...

Moon and sun
Why don't you have what we have?
Why is there no exploitation that oppresses and oppresses?
Even the wildest animal doesn't exploit the other.

Its spelling is like coffee
It's not the coffee it's spelled
Its spelling is like humanity
His reading is not human
Its spelling is like Independence
Not free to read

With the richest young man,
The poorest Young had fun together
The impoverished young man carried firewood at the rich teenager's wedding.
He said We were friends.

One day they both fell in love with a marbling girl.
The girl is beautiful..
He was playing with wind sticks in the window
Rich young poor young
He said Put me on your shoulder
The poor, as always, have backed the rich
Minutes became hours.
The shoulders of the poor fell from the arms.

A cat crawled on his feet.
A dog barked with suspicion
After a while, he forgot why he was there
His dreams were once again taken away.


The world is spinning.
Reign of money
The rich are arrogant
Folk pariah
Riddled with mountains
Your graves are for sale.

Their Brother Joseph
He threw it into a blind well
Mice roar like lions in the forest.

If lions become mice
All of US crime
Bravery as breadcrumbs

You don't die because your anvil hopes fall into the water
You'll drown because your hopes have given up.

1789 French mothers demolished for bread
Bourbon dynasty,
1917 Russian mothers demolished for bread
Ramanov dynasty,

Being afraid and dying is the nature of ordinary

Courage extraordinary
It takes courage to love
Courage as hope
Courage to use your mind
Courage master
He will not give up his sons
I'm where the free mustang horses drink water.
April 29,2020
Gencay & Bkaraer

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