WHAT MARKS OUR YEAR?

        Our years are generally marked by the things we do; by how much we earned in the passing year, by how our GPA was, by the job we changed, by the car bought… Shortly, by the things we did. Or simply failed to do. And how about all we have felt? Is our happiness or sadness measured by the things we achieve or not? Maybe, yes. Certainly, yes for most of us.

But how right is that? How about all the things we have felt? How about thanking for all we have got? How about succeeding to keep people we love in our lives? How about having a peaceful life? How about being able to do the things we love? I will accept that for many people accomplishing things is the only happiness, earning more money means more laughing, being appreciated by everybody is motivating, passing classes is cherishing.

    Well, as for me, I have earned well this year by not having to work too much. I have graduated from the university with the best degree in my department. I have had a lot of fun times. I have married with the love of my life. I have found a job very easily after graduating and even a well-paying one. Are these the things which mark 2015 for me? Honestly, not. They have surely changed the direction of my life. They certainly have a big effect on how my future will be like. Indeed, I am proud of myself for all of these. Yet, 2015 means more than the things I achieved to do.

I didn’t lose my mom to a bad sickness. I am thankful for it.

I managed to have a lot of free time to spend with my family, my darling nieces especially.

I found and showed the courage to move to another city.

I received the chance to be with my lover and we finally started to live in the same country, together.

See? If I didn’t have any of these above, all the things I succeeded would be a big nothing.

The important thing is to be like children who express their sadness when somebody breaks their hearts.

The important thing is to be like children who make the best of the day instead of worrying about the future.

The important thing is to be like children who simply choose to be with the ones they love, and not to be with the ones they don’t like.

The important thing is to be like children who don’t stop playing in the park when it starts to rain.

Well said, isn’t it? Because the only important thing is to live today and to discover what brings real happiness in life, the true one.

DOLOROUS HATRED

When I thought that I forgot

I tasted you in my first kiss

In the deceptive, temporary part of love

When I thought that I forgot

I felt you in my first heartbreak

In the forgetful, ruthless part of loyalty

When I thought that I forgot

I remembered you in the dolorous sundays

In the limited, scary part of unity

When I thought that I forgot

I cursed you in every farewell

In the remorseless, non-returning part of distance

When I thought that I forgot

I blamed you in every tear

In the causeless, deep part of whining

When I thought that I forgot

I missed you in every success

In the gallant, needy part of pride

When I thought that I forgot

I actually thought that I never forget

      Like the elegy in the most tragic times

      Like the saddest songs playing in the happiest times 

          In all the places where love unites with hatred.

          I remembered.

RAP AS AN ART

It is true that rap means so many things to so many different people. Yet, there is one person whom rap is a poetry, one person who shows us how deep the rap music actually is. That person can be no one other than Tupac Umaru Shakur. Before you understand Tupac’s poetry you have to also understand the hip hop lifestyle which influenced his choice of words, style and format. When you carefully listen to tupac’s work you will learn a lot about him. One tool a poet may use when writing a poem is asking big questions. He wasn’t just a music icon but also a fighter for the oppressed voice in the ghettos and projects around the world but his lyrics and poetry spread across the globe. Some of us will argue if hip hop music should be considered as poetry or not. We can analyze all going through his lyrics. One of Tupac's songs, which is famous and whose lyrics mean actually more than it seems: "KEEP YA HEAD UP" Forgive but don't forget, girl keep your head up And when he tells you you ain't nuttin don't believe him And if he can't learn to love you you should leave him Cause sista you don't need him And I ain't tryin to gas ya up, I just call em how I see em You know it makes me unhappy (what's that) When brothas make babies, and leave a young mother to be a pappy And since we all came from a woman Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman I wonder why we take from our women Why we rape our women, do we hate our women? I think it's time to kill for our women Time to heal our women, be real to our women And if we don't we'll have a race of babies That will hate the ladies, that make the babies And since a man can't make one He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one So will the real men get up I know you're fed up ladies, but keep your head up With these lyrics, Tupac calls to all women. He makes a call to the women telling they should not forget what has been to them but forgive and stand up knowing tthat they have the power, not believing in men when they say they are nothing, but knowing to leave them if they are not loved in the real meaning. Women, they don't need a man to live, to survive. It makes the rapper sad that men are rude to the woman eventhough women are the one who create the generations. All of us come from a woman and learn from women, are raised up by women. So why all these having been done to our women? Tupac goes forward, he believes in the questioning of the reason why we act like this to our women; we hate them, even we rape them. While a man has no ability to do what a women can do, why do they feel like they have the right to be unreal to women? Ladies, they must have been fed up. However, they should keep their head up by knowing how precious they are. These lyrics have a rhyme,have a thyme, have a main idea. So why don't we never consider it as an art? Like a poem. It is obvious that in a poem the street language isn't used. Indeed a similar poem with the main idea will never mention "rapping our women" for it's not very artistic at all. Yet, the truth is that not everyone is into poems. There are people who find poems boring or hard to understand. And so on. At this point, who will call to them, to the ones whom poem isn't everything at all? Rap music, of course. There are so many ghettos where people enjoy rap music. In fact, not only them, there are so many other people living in the cities, many who live for music, whose souls are moved with music. Therefore, here it is, Tupac can tell them the reality of women with his music, with his lyrics and people who admire him will have the same point of view. In that case, whom to underestimate the power of rap music? Who to deny the fact that a hiphop song can be artistic and meaningful like a poem? Nowadays, in some places of the world the value of Tupac is understood. Not all around the world maybe but for example in United States, some of the universities have lectures giving information about him. One class at the University of California at Berkeley studies Tupac as an ideal example of one of the "great writers and social commentators". Since his death, 14 documentaries have been produced about his life and death. Even, one of them "Tupac:Ressurection" was nominated for an Academy Award. Well, those lyrics belongs to Tupach Shakur, who is considered as a real legend. He had more than 100 songs released when he was alive and over 150 unreleased after his death. With all of his songs, he has made a strong impact not only on his fans, but other hip hop singers too. Many of the famous rap and hip hop singers tell that they are deeply influenced by Tupac, like 50 Cent, Jay-z, Lloyd Banks and so on. Each of them has a bit of Tupac in their songs which mean that they can try to reach people with a similar way he did, with telling the community about the reality in an artistic and musical way, both.

SYMBOL OF FORGETFULNESS

Few -or many- touches, kisses, hugs, tears, hurts on your body, in your heart, inside your soul. Could some of them be buried? At least, could a few of them be erased? And most of all; could all of them be forgotten? Her name was innocence. It was. His name was indiference. It was. In the beginning. For the first time in all times, the array blueness of the innocent water couldn't be stifled by the feverish indifferent fire. It was not only the water who played the game at first hand; but the fire premiered, too, probably for the last time. The water wanted to be deformed so much, so that any other elements would never be capable of understanding the reason for that intense desire. The fire was, for sure, could have the magic to deform such an opposite blessing of the earth, so easily, so desperately, on the other hand, so possibly. Things turn upside down, always, in life. Some stories don't have an end, as they don't have a clear beginning. Playing in the middle, going to and fro, assuming the welcomes and the goodbyes without being able to mesure the reality of them both. Forgetting. There isn't a sharper word than this, not a bitter ability than letting all go. The question is: does stopping to remember mean forgetting? When seeing, touching, talking to the other half is gone, how do we know if they have really lost their muse? Most of all, when you're still alone. Some people will never lose their muses. The inspiration for another love will still come from the gone/existing muses. In the hall of some loves; the walls might have pictures of happy moments of sincere smiles; but the sorrow will always outweigh.

So, the thing is: "In a few years, when I have forgotten you, and other adventures like this one will happen to me from sheer force of habit, I will remember you as the symbol of love's forgetfulness. I will think of this story as the horror of forgetting. " And if I ever meet the symbol of love's forgetfulness; I hope it won't be anyone else than you, only you.

SILENCE

Silence is a lie being told all the time. A lie drunken drop by drop. I talk everyday, without knowing what I speak. I fall asleep everyday, without knowing when I sleep. I smile everyday, without knowing why I jolify. I love everyday, without knowing where I have. I actually drink everyday, without knowing what I drink. Drop by drop. Love, most of all, I die everyday, without anyone seeing it. Do you know when the end of summer comes? It comes when one says good night, by in fact, meaning good night. I have seen the end of summer once upon a time. Please baby, don't make them fool of you when they begin with "once upon a time". It is never a fairy tale, never an innocent child story. So, it is always end of summer, blues rain together with snow. It snows when we play snow ball, just like we did before you left. The snow freezes, turns out to be a layer of ice. The most slippery one. Never nobody to help you to stand up. Still, please remember I never forget us. The thing is, the more you know, the more you are in trouble. I know much,much more than they do, more than you do. You can say that you cry thousands of rivers, but I have been swimming for the shore since... Silence & Drinking. I drink everyday.

GRAY

In the middle of nowhere. At a misty time. Beside nobody. With some uncertainty. Do you ever get this feeling where you stand on a line between feeling too much and feeling nothing at all? When I was a little girl, I used to watch people smiling and used to just smile with them. Now I watch people crying and try to guess a possible reason. I used to watch birds flying wondering the places they would go. Now I watch people leaving wondering if they will ever come back. I used to see my beloved ones blowing birthday candles. Now I just wonder how much more time I will be able to spend with them. At those times, I used to believe in everything I would be told. Now I approach people just so suspiciously. I used to sleep happily with my teddy bears. Now it's the lack of people that cause me to have sleepless nights whose spaces teddy bears remain insufficent to fill. By then, I used to believe in fairytales. Now the reality of life is what makes me surprised. And when I was a little girl, the world used to seem white. Or pink.Now all I see is the pieces of gray. The war between good and bad. The collaboration between lie and truth. The conflict between dreams and realities. The union of black and white. I never know at what point everything has turned upside down. It seems that it is only that little girl whom I can expect to hear an explanation. Forwhy, she is the me, who has never been abandoned, the me who has no doubts about none, the me who has never witnessed the evil of the world, or people. Moreover, since she is the me who has never lied, the me who hasn't left anyone, the me who hasn't made anyone cry, the me who has no harms to someone or to something. No matter where I go, there I am. With my scars, tears, blames, guilts, discomfort... To tell the truth, a part from that little girls has never left. The part that believes in fairytales. Yet, things about them didn't go well down here. Can you prove me that fairytales don't go always bad?

NO TITLE

I am not always able to write at the times I force myself to write. When I do, it comes out naturally, the words just get poured by themselves. My fingers get out the control of my brain. My heart manages them, my soul makes the words come alive.
Just like this moment.
So many things going on in me, all over me. Even, I might not be able to think clearly, maybe... But you see? Still, the words can make themselves seen on the screen, just in front of me.
Right now, I can write about the people who hurt me, I can write about the ones whose hearts I broke, I can write about my dissapointments, I can write about my dreams. But, no; all would seem such nonsense and meaningless titles. In fact, this writing has no title. Titles are just the display pictures of our lives, have you ever thought about it? A mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a friend, a lover... All these names (not those people!) are only the display pictures of our life sphere. There is more than that. Family bounds are kept alive by being loyal, honest and connected to each other with love, not with the word family. Friends? A few of them can be special enough to be like your family., if they are the ones whom you can open your heart. Lover? If there is really love between 2 people, there is no even need "the lover title". Because the ones who have that title, they might become nothing about love. For, a real lover composes of a real love. "What's real love?". A strong, unconditional tie. It's seeing universe much bigger than it is. It's feeling their pain deep inside your heart, too. It's not being able to breathe when they are not fine. Something like this... Maybe something you thought you had, or something I thought I had. Maybe for once, maybe for a few times more...
So what was I writing about? The titles... The moment I understood that how titles made me weak, I have started to feel stronger for it has made me desire something deeper, something real, something powerful. Do you know where it takes me? It takes me to my hopes. Can you guess how hopes furnish services as medicines? Believe me, hopes save lives. To survive, to have hopes, you have to have faith. Having faith in something... in God, in life, in love, in your dreams., whatever it is... As long as you have faith in life, you will always know that it is not wrong at all when elders say that "this, too, shall pass". One more thing is that; as long as you love yourself, as long as you are the way you are, you will, one day, come across what you deserve.
Now, in my life, there are a few dush rooms which have no tittle at all. And the ones who have caused this... Their titles were just fake. Yet, I know that I am not gonna lose who I am, I am not gonna waste my hopes. Pains are to be got over and happinesses are to be smiled at. Tell yourself that "this, too, shall pass". Because I do, even believing in it from the bottom of my heart.