I’m scared that I’ll grow old and forget
The way your skin felt
When we sat under the sun
The way my heart cracked like a drum

I thought it was heaven
Listening to the birds
And your pulse
And the air hitting your curls

I thought if I died right there
It wouldn’t be a bad way to go
That spending an eternity in hell
Would be worth it

It felt like when god made earth
He made me promise
To sit there
And flirt with your universe

I was sinking
but not saying
How I was thinking
You were of the skies

How you smelled like man
When he woke up in a forest
After he fell from paradise
Sinful, earthly, and holy

I want to keep the memory of you
Behind my eyes
So I can replay you
When I have nothing worth remembering

I want you to stay in my mind
The only place
Where I can really have you
Be mine

I want to remember all the moments
I almost said I love you
But bit my tongue
Like all lovers, thieves, and poets


The Re-Rebuttal


Another article by Jîl.

My dear friend, I’m sorry if it seems to you that I have misinterpreted your article. My criticisms weren’t of your literal words but of the trend of lambasting PC culture and its effects, may it be on language or art or anything else.

You argued that the word privilege is shown in a bad light these days, and I, trying to be a voice that defends the left, argued that the word is meant to only hold that connotation when it’s dismissed. When I spoke of privilege I didn’t mean you personally, so this time, please don’t think that I’m misunderstanding or twisting your words because I’m looking at not just your words, but their implications.

I completely refuse to recognize your buzzword accusation, because you know that the context of words matters more than the actual words. The implications and the context of the trend that you’re following is what caught my eye, not the buzzwords.

People that promote PC culture and people that complain about PC culture are equally responsible for the prevalence of the said culture.
Causes without a goal and obvious finger pointing are useless, in my opinion. Saying that feminists need to do something about muslim countries’ issues is a futile attempt at activism that lets you feel like you’re doing something while you’re doing nothing.

While I’d rather not, I’m going to try explaining the obvious but what a lot seem to forget, feminism is set of ideologies, it’s not a cult. Different feminist organizations hold different values and fight for different causes and just for the record, there are many feminist organizations trying to eradicate FGM, not all movements need to fight for the same issues. Feminists aren’t magical creatures that can get together and end the atrocities of the world, they aren’t supposed to solve a country’s political issues, they’re supposed to help other women realize that they need to rise up and fix their own issues and ask for their rights in their countries. Feminism has been doing that, not by useless awareness raising campaigns but by legislation and by sending feminist messages in the media. Feminists have spread the idea of feminism so far and wide that people are sick of hearing the word “feminism.”

Whether you think that a movement like Free the Nipple is fighting for a worthy cause is your opinion but whether it’s feminist or not is clear as day, it’s a movement trying to get a discriminatory law against women lifted.

I understand your critiques, I also understand the trend that they come from, saying that you should criticize ideologies instead of people was just an attempt to get you to see that generalizations, on both sides, get us nowhere. As individuals, we don’t carry identical beliefs, and unless you’re going to criticize everyone individually, your critiques will lose relevancy points.

I will always agree that the context of words matters more than the words themselves, but the way we can get everyone to see that isn’t by writing articles that point out the obvious and blame imaginary buzzwords for censorship. Maybe it’s by writing articles that give people a new concept to look at, or a new perspective to look from, not a washed and recycled version of the truth that has been in similar media outlets more than a hundred times for click quantity and not quality.


This article is a response to an article by my friend Jîl Swanî.


You can find Jîl’s article here.

Disclaimer: it’s a good idea to criticize the left and every other political ideology there is, I just want us to criticize the right things.

I think it’s a bit paradoxical, you saying that liberal feminists should have their energy invested in greater issues like FGM and not movements like Free the Nipple, and you writing an article about how the left is calling everyone a bigot, shouldn’t you invest your energy in greater issues?

This is what I mean by we should criticize the right things, when I think “what’s wrong with liberal feminism?” I don’t think the answer is PC culture or pandering or things that we see being criticized by the media. This is going to make me sound like a crazy commie, but what’s wrong with liberal feminism is that it’s liberal and not leftist. I’m not saying that the further left you go the better things will be, I’m saying that feminism is a leftist movement, with leftist goals, when you take that ideology and try to fit it into a capitalist (or a religious) way of life, it mutates into a self-contradicting shell of an ideology.

Any ideology, be it religion or feminism, will never hold the same values it started with once profit comes into play.

So what’s wrong with liberal feminism is what’s wrong with liberal America, and what’s wrong with liberal Europe: they have sold their principles for profit.

Do you expect liberal feminists to condemn forced Niqab, when the leaders of their countries go to the lands of forced Niqab and shake the hands of the men that write laws that allow child marriage?

Under the umbrella of acceptance of different cultures, the left ends up accepting the very same things they fought against.

I still haven’t made up my mind about whether people should “solve bigger problems” or “every problem matters.” All I know is that Free the Nipple is more feminist than World Hijab Day.

I don’t understand why people are bothered by being called privileged. Most of us are privileged, some more than others. Yes, your parents worked very hard to give you a good life but you were lucky enough to be born to such parents, that’s privilege. The right response to being called privileged is acknowledgement not outrage. It’s not an accusation, it’s a reality check to make you try to understand the circumstances of someone who isn’t as lucky. Privilege is bad when it’s shrugged off, for example when straight people in Kurdistan talk about how we shouldn’t focus on LGBTQ rights yet when they’ve had the privilege of never having faced discrimination for their sexual orientation.

While I think that the only thing political correctness is good for is the emergence of new terms, I don’t think the world we live in is as politically correct as we are being lead to believe it is. I mean if you look at the president of the United States, even in that position he could get away with saying “grab her by the pussy” and calling Mexicans rapists, so I don’t think PC culture is as threatening as it may seem.

I think it’s useless to try and criticize a group of people, because you’ll always end up with some of them ready to scream “not me though.” So it’s better to criticize the ideologies, let’s criticize Islam instead of Muslims, liberal feminism instead of feminists, the patriarchy instead of men. Let’s criticize the right things, so our criticisms hold their ground.

But what do I know, everything could be cosmically predestined and wanting to change the future could be like wanting to change history, impossible. The only real solution to anything is a time machine.



Angry Ideologue


I cannot pray for I do not believe.
Does praying make the weight of everything
you can’t change decrease?
How can we change all this pain?
When being humane has become a shame.

We mimic not the reality
but an image of a cynic.
Everything we turn a blind eye to,
we call a gimmick.

We’ve lost grip on what matters.
We don’t listen to our sisters.
We don’t listen to our daughters.
We listen to modern day preachers,
imams without turbans.
We’re digital age believers.

There’s them and you.
You are the bad guy
because you care about the children
saying goodbye
to their parents
at borders.
Because you care about soldiers
not following orders.
You disgust them
because you care about choice
and giving the voiceless a voice.
To them that destroys
the fabric of their precious hierarchy.
You are repulsive and scary.
You are the matriarchy.

They are right.
You are wrong.
You have guts.
You have love.
They are smart.
You are dumb.
You’re a slave
because you have what makes us
human in the first place.

They want to shut down the borders
and send home the workers
send back women to the kitchen
and vote for a president/bully
that will grab them by the pussy
because he’s a star
and they also want to be stars
so they listen to long seminars
about how to have a spine
how to think
how their right to put themselves
above all else is divine

You are a monster
because you dare
to not care
about unborn life.
You should be re-baptized.
Because they do.
They care about unborn children.
Until they are born
and need tuition.
Until they are sick
and need to be seen by a physician.
They don’t care when the children
are drowning
fleeing a raided country
by bombs that were made
from their tax money.
That’s when it’s okay to not care about life.
It’s simple
and logical.
Everything has a price.
You just don’t get it.
They do care about unborn life!
But not the women that carry it.

You women.
All you angry women.
So radical.
So irrational.
So bad at chess.
You’re a mess
because you don’t memorize moves.
You don’t approve of their truths.
So bad at opinions
because you don’t memorize
lines for defense in arguments.
You don’t realize
you are unintelligent because
you don’t tick the way they do.
You must not have confidence
because there must be a reason
why there was never
a prophetess.
Even though there was.
And there must be a reason
why there are no inventions
by you dolls so far.
Even though there are.

You don’t know anything.
You are dim
because you’re not desperate
for validation.
You throw around the word sexist
without consulting men.
You are a deviation
from biology.
You owe them an apology
because you oppress them
with your quest for equality.
You don’t try to prove your intelligence
that’s why you’re irrelevant.

And how dare you be a social justice warrior?!
There’s nothing dorkier.
It is an insult and a shame
to fight for justice.
You are puppet
because you don’t listen
to their masters.
They are a product of a wonderful system
that serves color changing truths
on silver platters.

In how many ways should I
that you use your heart
and not your brain?
You are not sane.
It is profane to be humane.

January 8th


I’m on Venus
The ground is opal
My breath is sleepless
The air is hopeful

I am Venus
You made this Roman
Gold and molten
You are Vulcan

I carry a rock
You call it Virtue
Inside it I stock
Vices you grew

You hold my myrtles
from the broken vase
Like all the cliches
I keep in my journal

You are strong wine
Secret and sacrificial
You are a shrine
You keep me bristled

Bona Dea is forsaken
in our surreptitious exhibitions
For this temptation
is everything but sacrilegious

January 7th


I sat in the metal dome headed east, and as the friction of the seats resembled the slide of the sheets, I closed my eyes.

The clouds around me looked familiar when Ishtar descended on me.

The soft strands of her hair wrapped around my wrists and pulled me to the gates of Eanna.

I noticed that she was made of light, and didn’t speak in words.

Her insides must be made of strings, I thought.

The gates opened and I was engulfed by music, light, and a feeling of reassuring comfort.

Her hair was still around my wrists, she pulled me in and spoke in violins.

There you were, wrapped up in silk and feathers, a cup of honey in hand, a conversation in the other.

Oh. I see what this rendezvous is about. It’s what everything is about. The gods know, the earthly pretend it’s myth.

I told Ishtar. We know, we know.

Everything started spinning, the ease turned into knots and the clouds started fading.

I opened my eyes and looked at the street.

I don’t need a theatrical holy speech in a dream to know. I know. It’s a sweet defeat.

The arrow killed the beast. I know.

The poem from the burning painting video

The world smells like ashes
from the sky comes the sound of cellos
from above watches
no one

All the women in my land are depressed
how could they not be
under the weight of their braids
the glass, the clay
and the salt

All the men in my land are depressed
they burn in the flames
their fathers started
the fume of their fire
haunts their moustaches

All the birds in my land are flightless
even the bravest eventually fall
in the hands of the emperor

The houses in here smell like despair
the bricks they were built with
are made of fear

The books around here
are unfinished
the poetry is one letter
and the holy books harbor sin

The clouds in my land have no shape
no weight and no color
they don’t cry but they suffer

The children around here ask no questions
the wonder in their eyes is an empty room
and a scared mother

All the trees in my land are cut early
we don’t like dissentient beauty
it makes us worry

The doors around here stay shut
they open sometimes for a hunt
but ultimately
we don’t like handles

The lights around here shiver
we try to make them steady
by standing in front of a mirror
in the dark

All the gods in my land hate us
everyday they show us
how they wish
they never made us

The dogs around here never bark
they know it’s pointless
so they also stand in front of a mirror
in the dark

The time around here doesn’t pass
it’s a pyramid of hands
holding the past

All the roads in my land are dead ends
we cross them
knowing where they lead

The lakes around here have no rivers
just like us
they question their identity

The schools around here teach silence
we bite our palms
we bite our words
we swallow their venom

All the flags in my land don’t flutter
they cover the dead
they cover the living
they smother

The glass of our skyscrapers reflects war
it reflects the blood
the sweat and the tears
and the horror of it all

All the art in my land
is stale
all the ideas are banal
it’s all predictable
our mad
our groundbreaking
our bizarre

Fire is what we need
fire is what we must meet
we must burn our tents
and our strings
and our spines

To earn rebirth
we must set ablaze
our universe