Acı Aşk (seni tanrım bile)

--

içimdeki putları devir
elindeki baltayla
kırılan putların yerine
yenilerini koyan kim

güneş buzdan evimi yıktı
koca buzlar düştü
putların boyunları kırıldı
ibrâhîm
güneşi evime sokan kim

asma bahçelerinde dolaşan güzelleri
buhtunnasır put yaptı
ben ki zamansız bahçeleri kucakladım
güzeller bende kaldı
ibrâhîm
gönlümü put sanıp da kıran kim

10 green bottles standing on the wall, but if 2 green bottles should accidentally fall

According to the Pastafarian gospel, Mosey the Pirate captain received some advice from the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the form of ten stone tablets. These were called the "I'd Really Rather You Didn'ts" by the FSM, the "Commandments" by Mosey, and the "Condiments" by his Pirate gang. While there were originally ten "I'd Really Rather You Didn'ts", two were dropped on the way back down the mountain, with eight remaining.


1. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Act Like a Sanctimonious Holier-Than-Thou Ass When Describing My Noodly Goodness. If Some People Don't Believe In Me, That's Okay. Really, I'm Not That Vain. Besides, This Isn't About Them So Don't Change The Subject.

2. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Use My Existence As A Means To Oppress, Subjugate, Punish, Eviscerate, And/Or, You Know, Be Mean To Others. I Don't Require Sacrifices, And Purity Is For Drinking Water, Not People.

3. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Judge People For The Way They Look, Or How They Dress, Or The Way They Talk, Or, Well, Just Play Nice, Okay? Oh, And Get This In Your Thick Heads: Woman = Person. Man = Person. Samey = Samey. One Is Not Better Than The Other, Unless We're Talking About Fashion And I'm Sorry, But I Gave That To Women And Some Guys Who Know The Difference Between Teal and Fuchsia.

4. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Indulge In Conduct That Offends Yourself, Or Your Willing, Consenting Partner Of Legal Age AND Mental Maturity. As For Anyone Who Might Object, I Think The Expression Is Go F*** Yourself, Unless They Find That Offensive In Which Case They Can Turn Off the TV For Once And Go For A Walk For A Change.

5. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Challenge The Bigoted, Misogynist, Hateful Ideas Of Others On An Empty Stomach. Eat, Then Go After The B******.

6. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Build Multimillion-Dollar Churches/Temples/Mosques/Shrines To My Noodly Goodness When The Money Could Be Better Spent (Take Your Pick):

1. Ending Poverty
2. Curing Diseases
3. Living In Peace, Loving With Passion, And Lowering The Cost Of Cable
I Might be a Complex-Carbohydrate Omniscient Being, But I Enjoy The Simple Things In Life. I Ought To Know. I AM the Creator.


7. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Go Around Telling People I Talk To You. You're Not That Interesting. Get Over Yourself. And I Told You To Love Your Fellow Man, Can't You Take A Hint?

8. I'd Really Rather You Didn't Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do Unto You If You Are Into, Um, Stuff That Uses A Lot Of Leather/Lubricant/Las Vegas. If The Other Person Is Into It, However (Pursuant To #4), Then Have At It, Take Pictures, And For The Love Of Mike, Wear a CONDOM! Honestly, It's A Piece Of Rubber. If I Didn't Want It To Feel Good When You Did IT I Would Have Added Spikes, Or Something.

Kavanozun kapağı açık kalmış

Hep adını yazdım şarkılarıma,
sevgilim suçunu herkes bilecek.
Bana ettiklerini herkes duyacak,
seni Tanrı bile affetmeyecek.

Alıştım artık ben sensizliğine,
zararı yok alıştım ben hasretine.
Seni yakacaklar benim yerime,
seni Allah bile affetmeyecek.

Ah edip başını duvarlara vur,
kahrol bir köşede boş hayaller kur.
Kalpsizlerin sonu hep böyle olur,
seni Tanrı bile affetmeyecek.

hayvanlar alemi

animals are divided into:

(a) those that belong to the emperor;
(b) embalmed ones;
(c) those that are trained;
(d) suckling pigs;
(e) mermaids;
(f) fabulous ones;
(g) stray dogs;
(h) those that are included in this classification;
(i) those that tremble as if they were mad;
(j) innumerable ones;
(k) those drawn with a very fine camel's-hair brush;
(l) etcetera;
(m) those that have just broken the flower vase;
(n) those that at a distance resemble flies

a spectacular mushroom cloud in the sky

ラーイーヤー　ラ　ライヨラ　空に見事なキノコの雲
ラーイーヤー　ラ　ライヨラ　小道で餌をはむ小鳥の午後は

木漏れ日の芝に手を触れて　キミと語ろう
ほらランチのベンチの上で　夢は花咲く
波の音を　その胸に　憂鬱は沈めて
橋を明日に伸ばし　津波など案ずることなく

ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　あんなに見事な飛行機雲
ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　人気の通りに人行く午後は

微笑みでしばし手を取れば　キミと歩こう
ほら「万事に休す」の声も　風がかき消す

明日の日はかまわずに　行く先は任せて
胸に鍵を掛けて　雪崩など信じることなく

ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　夢に見慣れた炎の雨
ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　オフィスの窓辺で目覚めた午後は

木漏れ日の芝に誘われて　キミと出かけよう
ほらランチのベンチの上で　夢は花咲く

草に吹く風を聞き　憂鬱は投げ捨て
明日も晴れと信じ　夢見など案ずることなく

ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　空に見事なキノコの雲
ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　小道で餌をはむ小鳥の午後
ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　ランチのベンチで育てた夢
ラーイーヤ　ラ　ライヨラ　木漏れ日の日に生まれた午後よ

the creeps (you're giving me)

Clever liar, fooling us all, never thought I'd work it out
How could I have known it was ever about you boy?
Now there's nothing to say, there's no words
And we're not talking anyhow
You must have known I was never to doubt you boy

If it was so fine, it was so good, oh you're unbelievable
All this time I've been living without you boy, not your lying
It felt so good, the world don't know, now they'll never find out
How all these years she must've been beside you boy

Don't forget that I was the one that you found
And if I know you, you'll find me someplace new
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

We're a waste of time
And if I know you, learned long ago it's true
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

Go and explain, explain it again, boy that this all started
Found you lying in the arms of another girl, so stop your crying
Day after day, year after year, far too long it lasted
You must have thought I was nothing without you boy

And tonight, if we learn that the world's on fire
I guess I'll turn to you
I hope I never, I hope I never have to

I've failed to find, so hard to find
And I can't find a way for you and I to go on like this
I'm always learning things the hard, hard, hardest way.

'Cause I was the one that you found
And if I know you, you'll find me someplace new
I hope you never, I hope you never get to

hmiimmmm

sevgili sevgili godsy

daha havadar yazmak isterdim ama biliyorsun buralarda hava biraz oksijensiz kaldı bu aralar


1-En son hangi ülkenin gündemiyle canını sıktın?
Kendi kendime edindiğim Beyrut gündemim bayaa can sıktı diyebiliriz, onun dışında Laos ve Vietnam'ın türk vatandaşlarına kapıdan vize vermeme kararını kınıyorum.
2-En son hangi şarkıdan nefret ettin?
kolay kolay bir şarkıdan nefret ettiğim görülmemiştir ama şu iki gündür yaklaşık 100 şarkıda sinirimden hop oturup hop kalkıyorum
3-En son hangi fastfood ürününden nefret ettin?
Kemirgen yapım nedeniyle hiç birisinden nefret edemem ama Big Mac'in eskisi gibi lezzetli gelmemesi sinirimi bozuyor.
4-En son hangi sakatatı yedin?
Kokoreç!
5-En son hangi yerli parçayı beğendin.
ıhmm şey bilmem ki, televizyonum yok benim ne desem pek eskiden kalmış olacak
6-En son hangi yabancı parçayı beğendin?
Djivan Gasparyan-Freedom
7-En son hangi yerli filmi beğendin?
Daha henüz herkes tarafından izlenemeseler de "Ev" "Acı Aşk" "Beş Şehir"
8-En son hangi yabancı filmi sevdin?
District 9
9-En son hangi kitabı okudun?
Peter S. Beagle'ın Düş Dünyaları
10-En son hangi bilgisayar oyununu oynadın?
World of Goo

11-En son hangi mizah dergisini okudun?
Uykusuz/Penguen
12-En son neden korktun?
Ay'ı patlatmaya cürret eden insanoğlundan
13-En son neye küfrettin?
Adamın tekine*okkalı
14-En son neyden kaçtın?
Çeşitli sorumluluklar
15-En sevdiğin beş film?
Amanın insan nasıl karar verir, ilk aklıma gelenler: The Big Blue, Ponyo, The Cell, The Fall, daha görmesek de Alice in Wonderland
17-En sevdiğin 5 yemek?
iskender, yeni dünya kebabı, mantı, lahana sarması, suşi
18-En sevdiğin 5 isim?
kendi ismimi seviyorum ben en çok *oha*
19-En sevdiğin 5 oyun?
Heroes of Might and Magic, Diablo, Monkey Island -ay oynamaya oynamaya insan unutuyormuş
20-En büyük korkun?
Kabuslarım beni benden alır

21-En nefret ettiğin 5 klişe laf nedir?
ben bunu bi düşüneyim

kimseyi mimleyemiyorum beni kim okuyor ki? *sanki okunacak birşey yazıyormuşum gibi*

edit: sevgili sevgili hirondelle kalenize mim diktim, şeref duyarım.
edit edit: sevgili sevgili PeriZat En. Duble şeref duble mutluluk duyarım mimlenmenizden, mim sizindir.

ha-ha what a joker

a.q.

Aibohphobia (fear of palindromes)

A but tuba.
A car, a man, a maraca.
A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
A new order began, a more Roman age bred Rowena.
A nut for a jar of tuna.
A Santa dog lived as a devil God at NASA.

A tin mug for a jar of gum, Nita.
Acrobats stab orca.
Ah, Satan sees Natasha!
Amen icy cinema.
Amore, Roma.
Amy, must I jujitsu my ma?
Are Mac ‘n’ Oliver ever evil on camera?
Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?
Are we not pure? “No sir!” Panama’s moody Noriega brags. “It is garbage!” Irony dooms a man; a prisoner up to new era.
Art, name no tub time. Emit but one mantra.
Avid diva.

Borrow or rob?


Cain: a maniac.
Cigar? Toss it in a can. It is so tragic.

Daedalus: nine. Peninsula: dead.
Dammit, I’m mad!
Decaf and DNA faced.
Denim axes examined.
Dentist? Sit Ned.

Desserts I desire not, so long no lost one rise distressed.
Desserts, I stressed!

Devil never even lived.

Did I do, O God, did I as I said I’d do? Good! I did.

Do geese see God?
Do good? I? No! Evil anon I deliver. I maim nine more hero-men in Saginaw, sanitary sword a-tuck, Carol, I — lo! — rack, cut a drowsy rat in Aswan. I gas nine more hero-men in Miami. Reviled, I (Nona) live on. I do, O God!
Do nine men interpret? Nine men. I nod.
Dogma in my hymn: I am God.

Doom mood
Dr. Awkward

Draw nine men inward.
Draw O Caesar. Erase a coward.

Dumb mud.

Egad! A base tone denotes a bad age.
Egad! An adage!
Eve damned Eden. Mad Eve!
Eve saw Diamond, erred. No maid was Eve!
“Evil axis”, sides reversed, is “six alive”.
Evil, a sin, is alive.
Ew! Eat a ewe?

Flee to me, remote elf.

Go dog.
Go hang a salami, I’m a lasagna hog.
God saw I was dog.
Goddamn mad dog!
Golf? No sir, prefer prison-flog.

He did, eh?
Hon? I see bees in – OH!

I did, did I?
I prefer pi.
I saw a crow, orca was I.
I saw desserts; I’d no lemons, alas no melon! Distressed was I.
I’m a lasagna hog, go hang a salami.
I’m a tune nut, am I?
I’m a fool; aloof am I.
In word salad, alas, drown I.
Is it I? It is I!

Laminated E.T. animal.
Late metal.

Leon’s noel.
Live no evil! Live on evil!
Live not on evil.
Live, O Devil, revel ever! Live! Do evil!
Lived on Decaf; faced no Devil.
Llama mall.
Lonely Tylenol.
Loops at a spool.

Madam, I’m Adam.
Madame, not one man is selfless; I name not one, madam.
Maps, DNA, and spam.
Mr. Owl ate my metal worm.
Murder for a jar of red rum.
Must sell at tallest sum.

Name no one man.
Name no side in Eden, I’m mad! A maid I am, Adam mine; denied is one man.
Name not one man.
Name now one man.
Name tarts? No, medieval slave, I demonstrate man!

Never odd or even.

Niagara, eh? I hear again!
Niagara, O roar again!
No cab, no tuna nut on bacon.
No devil lived on.
No lemon, no melon.
No sir! Away! A papaya war is on.
No trace, not one carton.
No, it is opposition.
No, sir, away! A papaya war is on!
No, tie it on.
Not a banana baton.
Now do I repay a period won.
Now I draw an award. I won!
Now I see bees I won.
Now I won.

Nurse, I spy gypsies. Run!
Nurses run.

O Geronimo, no minor ego.
Oozy rat in a sanitary zoo.

Pool loop.
Pot top.
Pull up if I pull up.

Rail delivers reviled liar
Rats at a bar grab at a star.
Rats live on no evil star.
Rats paraded a rapstar.
Raw Novel? Lev on War.
Red root put up to order.
Red rum, sir, is murder.
Revered now, I live on. O did I do no evil, I wonder, ever?
“Reviled did I live,” said I, “as evil I did deliver!”
Reward drawer.
Rise to vote sir.
“Rum… rum…” I murmur.

Salt an atlas.
Satan, oscillate my metallic sonatas!
Saw tide rose? So red it was.
See, slave, I demonstrate yet arts no medieval sees.
Sega? Millions! Alas, no ill images!
Seven eves.
So many dynamos!
So, cat tacos!
Some men interpret nine memos.
Star rats.
Step on no pets.
Stop! Murder us not, tonsured rumpots!
Stressed desserts
Stressed was I ere I saw desserts.

Sums are not set as a test on Erasmus.


Tell a ballet.
To idiot.
Too bad I hid a boot.
Too hot to hoot.
Top spot.
Tube debut.
Tuna roll or a nut?

UFO tofu.

Was it a bar or a bat I saw?
Was it a bat I saw?
Was it a car or a cat I saw?
Was it a cat I saw?
Was it a rat I saw?
We few.

We sew.
Wet sanitary rat in a stew.
Won’t it now?
Wonders in Italy, Latin is red now.
Wonton? Not now.

Ya, Decaf. FACE DAY!!
Yawn a more Roman way.
Yawn…Madonna fan? No damn way!!
Yo, banana boy!

Zeus was deified, saw Suez.

biliyorsun herhalde sen artık cehennem yakıtısın

I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place
At the wrong time
For the wrong reason
And the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day
Of the wrong week
I used the wrong method
With the wrong technique
There's something wrong with me chemically
Something wrong with me inherently
The wrong mix
In the wrong genes
I reached the wrong ends
By the wrong means
It was the wrong plan
In the wrong hands
The wrong theory for the wrong man
The wrong eyes
On the wrong prize
The wrong questions with the wrong replies
I was marching to the wrong drum
With the wrong scum
Pissing out the wrong energy
Using all the wrong lines
And the wrong signs
With the wrong intensity
I was on the wrong page
Of the wrong book
With the wrong rendition
Of the wrong look
With the wrong moon
Every wrong night
With the wrong tune played
Till it sounded right

Armut musun aptal mısın anlamadım

Tam günlerime iyi başlarken o kadar yumuşak o kadar ani ve o kadar beklenmedik bir biçimde geliyor ki darbe; acıyı hissedene kadar önce faltaşı gibi açılmış gözlerle bakıyorum, bir an bir uyuşukluk oluyor -sanki hiç acımayacakmış gibi- her şey normal ve geçici geliyor. Birden acıyla kasılıyorum. En fazla acıttığı an biraz daha üstüne gidiyorum. Sonra siyaha boyanmış bir dairenin içine düşüyorum -yer beton- ve çarpıyorum ve başladığım yere geri dönüyorum. Dayanıyorum bir şekilde, bilirsiniz ki biraz kayıp bir insanım. Ama nereye kadar?

Après moi le deluge

Февраль. Достать чернил и плакать! February. Get ink, shed tears.
Писать о феврале навзрыд, Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
Пока грохочащая слякоть While torrential slush that roars
Весною черною горит. Burns in the blackness of the spring.

Достать пролетку. За шесть гривен Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas,
Чрез благовест, чрез клик колес Race through the noice of bells and wheels
Перенестись туда, где ливень To where the ink and all you grieving
Еще шумней чернил и слез. Are muffled when the rainshower falls.

Где, как обугленные груши, To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal,
С деревьев тысячи грачей A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees,
Сорвутся в лужи и обрушат Fall down into the puddles, hurl
Сухую грусть на дно очей. Dry sadness deep into the eyes.

Под ней проталины чернеют, Below, the wet black earth shows through,
И ветер криками изрыт, With sudden cries the wind is pitted,
И чем случайней, тем вернее The more haphazard, the more true
Слагаются стихи навзрыд.The poetry that sobs its heart out.

verniği su ile inceltiniz

- diyelim ki vaktiniz vardı ve o ince şeyleri anladınız
ya sonra!.. n'oldu peki? kaçınızın hayatı değişti
kaçınız bu hayatı değiştirdi? bu bir akıl kaşıntısı!
ya da aklınızda birkaç kurbağanın ardarda sıçraması!
aklınızı sıçratması: hepinizi okşayan koskoca bir yalan bu!
yazarın inceldiği yerden okurun bu kadar kalınlaştırılması!
hıh! sadece ve sadece kurbağaların vebali! öyle mi?
ah! o vakitlerinizi boşa harcamayın! kalabalığa karışın
nasılsa kalabalık karıştığınız yerden inceltir sizi -

Fîhi Mâ Fihi

Do you know what you're supposed to do to meet a mermaid?
You go down to the bottom of the sea where the water's not even blue anymore and the sky's only a memory, a thought in the silence.
And you stay there.
Then you decide that you'll die for them.
Only then do they start coming out.
They come and they greet you and they judge the love that you have for them, if it's sincere, if it's pure, they'll be with you, take you away forever.

sen başka bir tanrının kuzususun, görüşmeyelim.

the in again and again is in pain
who?
about funny
sound in love to forget
and expectations land already he's
may to
I'm living all
a house obviously have
kidding i'm
trees must with fairy tales
his can't i
stop you
far away hope
i of the no
him fell weird
dreaming and cats
the to in "am i?"
here and living
serious olive
say and i not
complaints ready earn from
the insane have talent
really to
that's me worries it
impossible with in garden i
man breathtaking have without but
and naive

Creatures of night, brought to light

The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.

She did not look anything like a horned horse, as unicorns are often pictured, being smaller and cloven-hoofed, and possessing that oldest, wildest grace that horses have never had, that deer have only in a shy, thin imitation and goats in dancing mockery. Her neck was long and slender, making her head seem smaller than it was, and the mane that fell almost to the middle of her back was as soft as dandelion fluff and as fine as cirrus. She had pointed ears and thin legs, with feathers of white hair at the ankles; and the long horn above her eyes shone and shivered with its own seashell light even in the deepest midnight. She had killed dragons with it, and healed a king whose poisoned wound would not close, and knocked down ripe chestnuts for bear cubs.

Unicorns are immortal. It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves – for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful creatures in all the world, and magic besides. They mate very rarely, and no place is more enchanted than one where a unicorn has been born. The last time she had seen another unicorn the young virgins who still came seeking her now and then had called to her in a different tongue; but then, she had no idea of months and years and centuries, or even of seasons. It was always spring in her forest, because she lived there, and she wandered all day among the great beech trees, keeping watch over the animals that lived in the ground and under bushes, in nests and caves, earths and treetops. Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them.

One day it happened that two men with long bows rode through her forest, hunting for deer. The unicorn followed them, moving so warily that not even the horses knew she was near. The sight of men filled her with an old, slow, strange mixture of tenderness and terror. She never let one see her if she could help it, but she liked to watch them ride by and hear them talking.

"I mislike the feel of this forest," the elder of the two hunters grumbled. "Creatures that live in a unicorn's wood learn a little magic of their own in time, mainly concerned with disappearing. We'll find no game here."

"Unicorns are long gone," the second man said. "If, indeed, they ever were. This is a forest like any other."

"Then why do the leaves never fall here, or the snow? I tell you, there is one unicorn left in the world – good luck to the lonely old thing, I say – and as long as it lives in this forest, there won't be a hunter takes so much as a titmouse home at his saddle. Ride on, ride on, you'll see. I know their ways, unicorns."

"From books," answered the other. "Only from books and tales and songs. Not in the reign of three kings has there been even a whisper of a unicorn seen in this country or any other. You know no more about unicorns than I do, for I've read the same books and heard the same stories, and I've never seen one either."

The first hunter was silent for a time, and the second whistled sourly to himself. Then the first said, "My great-grandmother saw a unicorn once. She used to tell me about it when I was little."

"Oh, indeed? And did she capture it with a golden bridle?"

"No. She didn't have one. You don't have to have a golden bridle to catch a unicorn; that part's the fairy tale. You need only to be pure of heart."

"Yes, yes." The younger man chuckled. "Did she ride her unicorn, then? Bareback, under the trees, like a nymph in the early days of the world?"

"My great-grandmother was afraid of large animals," said the first hunter. "She didn't ride it, but she sat very still, and the unicorn put its head in her lap and fell asleep. My great-grandmother never moved till it woke."

"What did it look like? Pliny describes the unicorn as being very ferocious, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a bear; a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn, two cubits in length. And the Chinese –"

"My great-grandmother said only that the unicorn had a good smell. She never could abide the smell of any beast, even a cat or a cow, let alone a wild thing. But she loved the smell of the unicorn. She began to cry once, telling me about it. Of course, she was a very old woman then, and cried at anything that reminded her of her youth."

"Let's turn around and hunt somewhere else," the second hunter said abruptly. The unicorn stepped softly into a thicket as they turned their horses, and took up the trail only when they were well ahead of her once more. The men rode in silence until they were nearing the edge of the forest, when the second hunter asked quietly, "Why did they go away, do you think? If there ever were such things."

"Who knows? Times change. Would you call this age a good one for unicorns?"

"No, but I wonder if any man before us ever thought his time a good time for unicorns. And it seems to me now that I have heard stories – but I was sleepy with wine, or I was thinking of something else. Well, no matter. There's light enough yet to hunt, if we hurry. Come!"

They broke out of the woods, kicked their horses to a gallop, and dashed away. But before they were out of sight, the first hunter looked back over his shoulder and called, just as though he could see the unicorn standing in shadow, "Stay where you are, poor beast. This is no world for you. Stay in your forest, and keep your trees green and your friends long-lived. Pay no mind to young girls, for they never become anything more than silly old women. And good luck to you."

The unicorn stood still at the edge of the forest and said aloud, "I am the only unicorn there is." They were the first words she had spoken, even to herself, in more than a hundred years.

That can't be, she thought. She had never minded being alone, never seeing another unicorn, because she had always known that there were others like her in the world, and a unicorn needs no more than that for company. "But I would know if all the others were gone. I'd be gone too. Nothing can happen to them that does not happen to me."

Her own voice frightened her and made her want to be running. She moved along the dark paths of her forest, swift and shining, passing through sudden clearings unbearably brilliant with grass or soft with shadow, aware of everything around her, from the weeds that brushed her ankles to insect-quick flickers of blue and silver as the wind lifted the leaves. "Oh, I could never leave this, I never could, not if I really were the only unicorn in the world. I know how to live here, I know how everything smells, and tastes, and is. What could I ever search for in the world, except this again?"

But when she stopped running at last and stood still, listening to crows and a quarrel of squirrels over her head, she wondered, But suppose they are riding together, somewhere far away? What if they are hiding and waiting for me?

From that first moment of doubt, there was no peace for her; from the time she first imagined leaving her forest, she could not stand in one place without wanting to be somewhere else. She trotted up and down beside her pool, restless and unhappy. Unicorns are not meant to make choices. She said no, and yes, and no again, day and night, and for the first time she began to feel the minutes crawling over her like worms. "I will not go. Because men have seen no unicorns for a while does not mean they have all vanished. Even if it were true, I would not go. I live here."

But at last she woke up in the middle of one warm night and said, "Yes, but now." She hurried through her forest, trying to look at nothing and smell nothing, trying not to feel her earth under her cloven hoofs. The animals who move in the dark, the owls and the foxes and the deer, raised their heads as she passed by, but she would not look at them. I must go quickly, she thought, and come back as soon as I can. Maybe I won't have to go very far. But whether I find the others or not, I will come back very soon, as soon as I can.

Under the moon, the road that ran from the edge of her forest gleamed like water, but when she stepped out onto it, away from the trees, she felt how hard it was, and how long. She almost turned back then; but instead she took a deep breath of the woods air that still drifted to her, and held it in her mouth like a flower, as long as she could.



The long road hurried to nowhere and had no end. It ran through villages and small towns, flat country and mountains, stony barrens and meadows springing out of stones, but it belonged to none of these, and it never rested anywhere. It rushed the unicorn along, tugging at her feet like the tide, fretting at her, never letting her be quiet and listen to the air, as she was used to do. Her eyes were always full of dust, and her mane was stiff and heavy with dirt.

Time had always passed her by in her forest, but now it was she who passed through time as she traveled. The colors of the trees changed, and the animals along the way grew heavy coats and lost them again; the clouds crept or hurried before the changing winds, and were pink and gold in the sun or livid with storm. Wherever she went, she searched for her people, but she found no trace of them, and in all the tongues she heard spoken along the road there was not even a word for them any more.

Early one morning, about to turn off the road to sleep, she saw a man hoeing in his garden. Knowing that she should hide, she stood still instead and watched him work, until he straightened and saw her. He was fat, and his cheeks jumped with every step he took. "Oh," he said. "Oh, you're beautiful."

When he tugged off his belt, made a loop in it, and moved clumsily toward her, the unicorn was more pleased than frightened. The man knew what she was, and what he himself was for: to hoe turnips and pursue something that shone and could run faster than he could. She sidestepped his first lunge as lightly as though the wind of it had blown her out of his reach. "I have been hunted with bells and banners in my time," she told him. "Men knew that the only way to hunt me was to make the chase so wondrous that I would come near to see it. And even so I was never once captured."

"My foot must have slipped," said the man. "Steady now, you pretty thing."

"I've never really understood," the unicorn mused as the man picked himself up, "what you dream of doing with me, once you've caught me." The man leaped again, and she slipped away from him like rain. "I don't think you know yourselves," she said.

"Ah, steady, steady, easy now." The man's sweating face was striped with dirt, and he could hardly get his breath. "Pretty," he gasped. "You pretty little mare."

"Mare?" The unicorn trumpeted the word so shrilly that the man stopped pursuing her and clapped his hands to his ears. "Mare?" she demanded. "I, a horse? Is that what you take me for? Is that what you see?"

"Good horse," the fat man panted. He leaned on the fence and wiped his face. "Curry you up, clean you off, you'll be the prettiest old mare anywhere." He reached out with the belt again. "Take you to the fair," he said. "Come on, horse."

"A horse," the unicorn said. "That's what you were trying to capture. A white mare with her mane full of burrs." As the man approached her, she hooked her horn through the belt, jerked it out of his grasp, and hurled it across the road into a patch of daisies. "A horse, am I?" she snorted. "A horse, indeed!"

For a moment the man was very close to her, and her great eyes stared into his own, which were small and tired and amazed. Then she turned and fled up the road, running so swiftly that those who saw her exclaimed, "Now there's a horse! There's a real horse!" One old man said quietly to his wife, "That's an Ayrab horse. I was on a ship with an Ayrab horse once."

From that time the unicorn avoided towns, even at night, unless there was no way at all to go around them. Even so, there were a few men who gave chase, but always to a wandering white mare; never in the gay and reverent manner proper to the pursuit of a unicorn. They came with ropes and nets and baits of sugar lumps, and they whistled and called her Bess and Nellie. Sometimes she would slow down enough to let their horses catch her scent, and then watch as the beasts reared and wheeled and ran away with their terrified riders. The horses always knew her.

"How can it be?" she wondered. "I suppose I could understand it if men had simply forgotten unicorns, or if they had changed so that they hated all unicorns now and tried to kill them when they saw them. But not to see them at all, to look at them and see something else – what do they look like to one another, then? What do trees look like to them, or houses, or real horses, or their own children?"

Sometimes she thought, "If men no longer know what they are looking at, there may well be unicorns in the world yet, unknown and glad of it." But she knew beyond both hope and vanity that men had changed, and the world with them, because the unicorns were gone. Yet she went on along the hard road, although each day she wished a little more that she had never left her forest.

Then one afternoon the butterfly wobbled out of a breeze and lit on the tip of her horn. He was velvet all over, dark and dusty, with golden spots on his wings, and he was as thin as a flower petal. Dancing along her horn, he saluted her with his curling feelers. "I am a roving gambler. How do you do?"

The unicorn laughed for the first time in her travels. "Butterfly, what are you doing out on such a windy day?" she asked him. "You'll take cold and die long before your time."

"Death takes what man would keep," said the butterfly, "and leaves what man would lose. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks. I warm my hands before the fire of life and get four-way relief." He glimmered like a scrap of owl-light on her horn.

"Do you know what I am, butterfly?" the unicorn asked hopefully, and he replied, "Excellent well, you're a fishmonger. You're my everything, you are my sunshine, you are old and gray and full of sleep, you're my pickle-face, consumptive Mary Jane." He paused, fluttering his wings against the wind, and added conversationally, "Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

"Say my name, then," the unicorn begged him. "If you know my name, tell it to me."

"Rumpelstiltskin," the butterfly answered happily. "Gotcha! You don't get no medal." He jigged and twinkled on her horn, singing, "Won't you come home, Bill Bailey, won't you come home, where once he could not go. Buckle down, Winsocki, go and catch a falling star. Clay lies still, but blood's a rover, so I should be called kill-devil all the parish over." His eyes were gleaming scarlet in the glow of the unicorn's horn.

She sighed and plodded on, both amused and disappointed. It serves you right, she told herself. You know better than to expect a butterfly to know your name. All they know are songs and poetry, and anything else they hear. They mean well, but they can't keep things straight. And why should they? They die so soon.

The butterfly swaggered before her eyes, singing, "One, two, three o'lairy," as he whirled; chanting, "Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, look down that lonesome road. For, oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er who dotes, yet doubts. Hasten, Mirth, and bring with thee a host of furious fancies whereof I am commander, which will be on sale for three days only at bargain summer prices. I love you, I love you, oh, the horror, the horror, and aroint thee, witch, aroint thee, indeed and truly you've chosen a bad place to be lame in, willow, willow, willow." His voice tinkled in the unicorn's head like silver money falling.

He traveled with her for the rest of the waning day, but when the sun went down and the sky was full of rosy fish, he flew off her horn and hovered in the air before her. "I must take the A train," he said politely. Against the clouds she could see that his velvet wings were ribbed with delicate black veins.

"Farewell," she said. "I hope you hear many more songs" – which was the best way she could think of to say good-by to a butterfly. But instead of leaving her, he fluttered above her head, looking suddenly less dashing and a little nervous in the blue evening air. "Fly away," she urged him. "It's too cold for you to be out." But the butterfly still dallied, humming to himself.

"They ride that horse you call the Macedonai," he intoned absent-mindedly; and then, very clearly, "Unicorn. Old French, unicorne. Latin, unicornis. Literally, one-horned: unus, one, and cornu, a horn. A fabulous animal resembling a horse with one horn. Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold and the mate of the Nancy brig. Has anybody here seen Kelly?" He strutted joyously in the air, and the first fireflies blinked around him in wonder and grave doubt.

The unicorn was so startled and so happy to hear her name spoken at last that she overlooked the remark about the horse. "Oh, you do know me!" she cried, and the breath of her delight blew the butterfly twenty feet away. When he came scrambling back to her, she pleaded, "Butterfly, if you really know who I am, tell me if you have ever seen anyone like me, tell me which way I must go to find them. Where have they gone?"

"Butterfly, butterfly, where shall I hide?" he sang in the fading light. "The sweet and bitter fool will presently appear. Christ, that my love were in my arms, and I in my bed again." He rested on the unicorn's horn once more, and she could feel him trembling.

"Please," she said. "All I want to know is that there are other unicorns somewhere in the world. Butterfly, tell me that there are still others like me, and I will believe you and go home to my forest. I have been away so long, and I said that I would come back soon."

"Over the mountains of the moon," the butterfly began, "down the Valley of the Shadow, ride, boldly ride." Then he stopped suddenly and said in a strange voice, "No, no, listen, don't listen to me, listen. You can find your people if you are brave. They passed down all the roads long ago, and the Red Bull ran close behind them and covered their footprints. Let nothing you dismay, but don't be half-safe." His wings brushed against the unicorn's skin.

"The Red Bull?" she asked. "What is the Red Bull?"

The butterfly started to sing. "Follow me down. Follow me down. Follow me down. Follow me down." But then he shook his head wildly and recited, "His firstling bull has majesty, and his horns are the horns of a wild ox. With them he shall push the peoples, all of them, to the ends of the earth. Listen, listen, listen quickly."

"I am listening," the unicorn cried. "Where are my people, and what is the Red Bull?"

But the butterfly swooped close to her ear, laughing. "I have nightmares about crawling around on the ground," he sang. "The little dogs, Tray, Blanche, Sue, they bark at me, the little snakes, they hiss at me, the beggars are coming to town. Then at last come the clams."

For a moment more he danced in the dusk before her; then he shivered away into the violet shadows by the roadside, chanting defiantly, "It's you or me, moth! Hand to hand to hand to hand to hand . . ." The last the unicorn saw of him was a tiny skittering between the trees, and her eyes might have deceived her, for the night was full of wings now.

At least he did recognize me, she thought sadly. That means something. But she answered herself, No, that means nothing at all, except that somebody once made up a song about unicorns, or a poem. But the Red Bull. What could he have meant by that? Another song, I suppose.

She walked on slowly, and the night drew close about her. The sky was low and almost pure black, save for one spot of yellowing silver where the moon paced behind the thick clouds. The unicorn sang softly to herself, a song she had heard a young girl singing in her forest long ago.

"Sparrows and cats will live in my shoe,
Sooner than I will live with you.
Fish will come walking out of the sea,
Sooner than you will come back to me."

She did not understand the words, but the song made her think longingly of her home. It seemed to her that she had heard autumn beginning to shake the beech trees the very moment that she stepped out into the road.

At last she lay down in the cold grass and fell asleep. Unicorns are the wariest of all wild things, but they sleep soundly when they sleep. All the same, if she had not been dreaming of home, she would surely have roused at the sound of wheels and jingling coming closer through the night, even though the wheels were muffled in rags and the little bells wrapped in wool. But she was very far away, farther than the soft bells could go, and she did not wake.

There were nine wagons, each draped in black, each drawn by a lean black horse, and each baring barred sides like teeth when the wind blew through the black hangings. The lead wagon was driven by a squat old woman, and it bore signs on its shrouded sides that said in big letters: MOMMY FORTUNA'S MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL. And below, in smaller print: Creatures of night, brought to light.

When the first wagon drew even with the place where the unicorn lay asleep, the old woman suddenly pulled her black horse to a stop. All the other wagons stopped too and waited silently as the old woman swung herself to the ground with an ugly grace. Gliding close to the unicorn, she peered down at her for a long time, and then said, "Well. Well, bless my old husk of a heart. And here I thought I'd seen the last of them." Her voice left a flavor of honey and gunpowder on the air.

"If he knew," she said and she showed pebbly teeth as she smiled. "But I don't think I'll tell him." She looked back at the black wagons and snapped her fingers twice. The drivers of the second and third wagons got down and came toward her. One was short and dark and stony, like herself; the other was a tall, thin man with an air of resolute bewilderment. He wore an old black cloak, and his eyes were green.

"What do you see?" the old woman asked the short man. "Rukh, what do you see lying there?"

"Dead horse," he answered. "No, not dead. Give it to the manticore, or the dragon." His chuckle sounded like matches striking.

"You're a fool," Mommy Fortuna said to him. Then, to the other, "What about you, wizard, seer, thaumaturge? What do you see with your sorcerer's sight?" She joined with the man Rukh in a ratchety roar of laughter, but it ended when she saw that the tall man was still staring at the unicorn. "Answer me, you juggler!" she snarled, but the tall man did not turn his head. The old woman turned it for him, reaching out a crablike hand to yank his chin around. His eyes fell before her yellow stare.

"A horse," he muttered. "A white mare."

Mommy Fortuna looked at him for a long time. "You're a fool too, magician," she snickered at last, "but a worse fool than Rukh, and a more dangerous one. He lies only out of greed, but you lie out of fear. Or could it be kindness?" The man said nothing, and Mommy Fortuna laughed by herself.

"All right," she said. "It's a white mare. I want her for the Carnival. The ninth cage is empty."

"I'll need rope," Rukh said. He was about to turn away, but the old woman stopped him.

"The only rope that could hold her," she told him, "would be the cord with which the old gods bound the Fenris-wolf. That one was made of fishes' breath, bird spittle, a woman's beard, the miaowing of a cat, the sinews of a bear, and one thing more. I remember – mountain roots. Having none of these elements, nor dwarfs to weave them for us, we'll have to do the best we can with iron bars. I'll put a sleep on her, thus," and Mommy Fortuna's hands knitted the night air while she grumbled a few unpleasant words in her throat. There was a smell of lightning about the unicorn when the old woman had finished her spell.

"Now cage her," she said to the two men. "She'll sleep till sunrise, whatever racket you make – unless, in your accustomed stupidity, you touch her with your hands. Take the ninth cage to pieces and build it around her, but beware! The hand that so much as brushes her mane turns instantly to the donkey's hoof it deserves to be." Again she gazed mockingly at the tall, thin man. "Your little tricks would be even harder for you than they already are, wizard," she said, wheezing. "Get to work. These's not much dark left."

When she was well out of earshot, sliding back into the shadow of her wagon as though she had just come out to mark the hour, the man named Rukh spat and said curiously, "Now I wonder what's worrying the old squid. What would it matter if we touched the beast?"

The magician answered him in a voice almost too soft to be heard. "The touch of a human hand would wake her out of the deepest sleep the devil himself could lay on her. And Mommy Fortuna's no devil."

"She'd like us to think so," the dark man sneered. "Donkey hoofs! Gahhh!" But he thrust his hands deep into his pockets. "Why would the spell be broken? It's just an old white mare."

But the magician was walking away toward the last of the black wagons. "Hurry," he called over his shoulder. "It will be day soon."

It took them the rest of the night to pull down the ninth cage, bars and floor and roof and then to put it back together around the sleeping unicorn. Rukh was tugging at the door to make sure that it was securely locked, when the gray trees in the east boiled over and the unicorn opened her eyes. The two men slipped hurriedly away, but the tall magician looked back in time to see the unicorn rise to her feet and stare at the iron bars, her low head swaying like the head of an old white horse.

SCID MRI DSM ICD

Bendeniz naçizane ve de hasbel kader hekim bulunuyorum, efendim ve de üstüne üstlük ruhiyat işleri ile meşguliyete memur bulunuyorum. Yani, taksiratını affet, müntehir bir mesleğin mensubu sayılmam mucip olmaktadır. Bundan otuz sene mukaddem, iş bu mesleğe mensubiyet ile şerefyab olduğumu zannettiğim esnada henüz, en büyük hazinemizin aklımız olduğu ileri sürülmekteydi. Ancak geçen zaman zarfında işler bir hayli değişti, efendim. Şimdi en büyük hazinemiz, Nike marka pabuçlarımızla Levis kotlarımız olmuş bulunuyor. Böyle olacağını bilseydik psikiyatri yapacağımıza proktolog falan olurduk. Olmadık. Üst tarafla uğraşmayı sürdürdüğümüzden, nihayet meslekçe intihara karar vermiş bulunuyoruz. Hatta, bir kısım meslektaşların DSM III-R istimali suretiyle intiharı başardıkları bile rivayet ediliyor. Bendeniz, bu civarda henüz dayanmaya çalışıyorum, ama düz duvarda kertenkele misali tutunmaktayım. Durumum hiç de parlak değil, haberiniz olsun, efendim.

Bütün kutsal kitapları dikkatle tetkik ve tetebbü etmiş bulunuyorum, efendim. Birisinde, "Evvela kelam var idi." buyuruluyor. Oysa şimdi kelam yerine görüntüler ve sayılar bulunuyor, efendim. Kelamın önceliği eskidenmiş. Şimdi bir takım makinelerden, bir takım sesler, şekilller ve renkler dökülüyor. Durup düşünmek ve anlamak için kimsenin vakti yok. Çağımız, artık akıl çağı değil, iletişim çağı. Makineden dökülen ıvır zıvırdan herkes kendince bir şeyler kapıp yola koyuldu ve hemen dönmek için bir köşe aramaya başlıyor. Bugün insan kulların bol bol iletişiyor, etkileşiyor, ama düşünmeye ve konuşmaya gerek görmüyor. Konuşmak yerine " sözel İletişim" denilebilecek bir şeyler kullandıkları olmuyor değil. Ancak o da, bir çok işimiz gibi, dövize indeksli vaziyette. Yani, sözel iletişim için kullanılacak kelam taneciklerinin dolar bazında istimali "in", öyle avama mahsus Türçe ise "out". (Bu arada "Türki" Kültür bakanlarının hangi dilde iletişecekleri ise şimdilik "No problem"!)

Ama onları da haksız bulmamak lazım, bana soracak olursanız, efendim. Akıl ve düşünce, kürtaj masasıyla euthanasie arasında sıkıştırılmış bir insan ömründe, SCID ve MRI ile incelenip, bir DSM ya da ICD sayısıyla ifade edilebilecek bir serotonin reuptake sorunundan ibaret hala gelince, düşünmemek bence de daha iyi derim, min gayri haddin. Onun yerine düşleyip düşündüğümüzü sanırız, olur, biter. Biz de düşlüyoruz işte.

Hatırlar mısınız, bilmiyorum efendim: Bizim rahmetli peder sık sık " Allahım sen aklımızı muhafaza et." şeklinde ricada bulunurdu. Bendenizse vazgeçtim efendim.

Şimdilerde bildiğiniz gibi nostaljik takılmak moda oluyor efendim. Bacak kadar veletler çıkıp " Ah neydi efendim bir zamanlar... " diyorlar da perişan ediyorlar insanı. Bendeniz pek o kadar katılmıyorum buna, efendim. Dünyanın her zaman, asıl kelimeyi söylemeye terbiyem mani, ama hani şöyle diyelim, biraz kazurat misali olduğuna kaniim. Ancak belli ki eskiden sıhhatli bebek kakasına benziyordu da şimdilerde iyice ishal oldu. Maamafih, bendeniz de zaman zaman nostalji takılıyorum, efendim., günahımızı af buyurun. İnsanların akılları ile tartıldıkları, birbirine söz söyledikler, söylenen sözleri anlamaya çalıştıkları ve kafa yorup düşündükleri, birbirine yanıt vermeye çalıştıkları, hepsinden önemlisi de birbirlerine baktıkları ve birbirlerini görmek istedikleri zamanları özler gibi oluyorum. Gerçi hemen topluyorum kendimi, uyumlu otist çağımıza avdet ediyorum, ama kaptırıyorum bazen işte. İnsani zaaf addediniz, lütfen efendim.

Arzettiğim gibi, hikmetinden sual olmayan Ulu Tanrım, bendeniz aklımın ne işe yaradığını pek anlamıyorum. Bana kör barsak gibi rudimenter bir takıntıymış gibi geliyor. Onun için istirham ederim efendim: Siz bize iyisi mi hayırlısıyla, tez zamanda münasip bir bunama lütfediniz, efendim.

Durumu görüş ve onaylarınıza saygılarımla Arzederim, Tanrım.

Bu Dünyadaki Bir Köpeğin Hayatının İlahi Açıklamasının Hikayesi

—Molesto?
—Faltaba más.
—Se agradece.
—Me llamo Flores. De profesión guitarrero, para servirlo.
—Encantado. Ceniza. De profesión, perro.
—¿Gusta un mate?
—No acostumbro.
—Casualidá. Justo estaba yo memorando la copla aquélla de los rabos.
—¿Cuála?
—El dolor que siente el perro, cuando le cortan el rabo...
—Ah, sí. Conozco: ... es como el que siente el rabo cuando le cortan el perro.
—Ésa.
—La verdad es que de rabos, don Flores, se sabe poco.
—Poco. Se sabe que hubo fiesta en el cielo. Que ustedes se bañaron en un río que no era el Paraná, un río de allá del Paraíso...
—Y dejamos los rabos a secar en la orilla. Rabo mojado no espanta mosquitos.
—Sí. Todos los rabos en la orilla, en fila.
—Y Dios nos hizo la broma aquélla. Mandó al río crecer.
—Se desbordó, el río.
—Y tuvimos que salir de apuro. Y en el desespero, cada cual agarró el primer rabo que encontró. Y desde entonces nos andamos olfateando, en busca del rabo perdido.
—Eso está bastante divulgado, don Ceniza.
—Se lo cree la gente, y nosotros también.
—Se sabe.
—Pero no fue.
—¿Quién le dijo que no fue?
—Dios.
—Ah.
—El Gran Can.
—¿Y usted lo vio?
—Quien lo ve, queda ciego. Lo sentí. Yo estaba de espaldas y sentí lo sagrado.
—El dios nuestro se aparece poco.
—El nuestro tampoco tiene costumbre.
—Y lo eligió a usted.
—Este humilde servidor.
—Qué suerte tuvo.
—No crea. Dios me mandó revelar la verdad a los perros del mundo. Me mandó decir que nunca hubo la tal fiesta en el cielo.
—¿Y usted informó?
—¿Que no hay rabo que buscar? Yo me callé.
—Me parece adivinar, don Ceniza.
—Sí, don Flores.
—La razón de su silencio.
—Ya ningún camino me llama.
—Eso.
—Antes, yo era patialegre, era andariego. Anduve mundo. En aquel tiempo, ningún rabo era mi rabo.
—Y ahora...
—Ahora parece que voy, pero vengo.
—Suerte perra.
—Perro mundo.
—Destinos.
—¿Don Flores?
—Diga.
—Guárdeme el secreto.
—Puede confiar.
—Y cuídese del frío, don Flores. La garganta.

Reseal tape: LIFT HERE

1. Peel off entire tab
2. Roll down to open end of the package
3. Apply tab and press firmly to reseal

Nante mudana koto o!

Balıklı bir plak dinliyordum-ahtapotlar ve papağanlar alınmasın. Su içmek için pervanenin arkasına geçtim, işte canavarla ilk defa orada karşılaştım. Tahta bacaklarını -kibirli kibirli- açarak yürüyordu. Bir dilek tutmuştum ve gerçekleşmesine daha dört yüz altmış sekiz gün vardı. Şimdi ölemezdim. Muhteşem bir fikirle uyandım. Bir dahaki sefere kağıttan yaptığım ayakkabılarla kuşbakışı böbrek şeklinde bir ormana gidecektim. Takvimde günü işaretledim. Bir noktaya kadar bisiklete binecektim. O sırada bir gaz bulutu dalgasına yakalandım. Etraf simsiyah oldu. Aynaya baktım elimde hala bir bardak vardı. Kurtarılmak için sistemli bir şekilde ayine başladım. Ütopya denilen şey bir masa örtüsü kadar değerli bu dünyada. Tanrı yeşil bir bitki örtüsünün içinde, tavşanın hemen üzerinde, elinde bir demet nane ile bekliyormuş meğer. Battaniyeye sarındım, üşümüşüm. Yağmur çoktan başlamıştı. Kapıyı açtım, bir tekne ile almaya gelmişler beni-kürekçiler pek huysuz. Şatoya giderken uyandım. Hatayı elimdeki haritaya bakarak anlamaya çalıştım, olmadı. Bu insanlar neler yiyebiliyor bir bilseniz; taş, kirpik...

E vamos nadar e tudo tudo dá

dying is fine)but Death

?o
baby
i

wouldn't like

Death if Death
were
good:for

when(instead of stopping to think)you

begin to feel of it,dying
's miraculous
why?be

cause dying is

perfectly natural;perfectly
putting
it mildly lively(but

Death

is strictly
scientific
& artificial &

evil & legal)

we thank thee
god
almighty for dying
(forgive us,o life!the sin of Death

Personal response insanity

Ve işte kimseden ses soluk karşınızdayım efendimböyle otur otur canım sıkıldı gittim birşeyler yedimbaktım hala bilmiyorum ya da televizyona baksam da anlamıyorsunsonra yanında çok mutluymuşum gibi bunları görmezden acını komaya girmem senin gerekliymiş gibi dursa da mutsuzumçok yokhazır kar da anlamıyorumyağmışken iki sessizliği de benzetebilirizbu kadar yok sanıyorsun ve gidişatımın buna haberin yok ölüyorum diyorlaraslında belki de hep söylediğim gibi davranmaktan herkesin bir tek gerçekne var ki ben hiç ve yokmuş anlayabildiğimi zannediyordumhalbuki sen de beni herşey ne kadar güzelbravo bizeşekerli ıvır zıvırdan üzgünümneden ama işte öylekar yağışı ulaşımı engellemiş seninde olabiliryatıp uyusam da aynı sürahiyle uğraşsam daçok standart olmakla beraber hayatımda problemim tek iyi gidenfarkında değilsin şey sensin kendi acısı gelmenden çok yoruldumaslında korkuyorum ki sen bunları acıdan yüzüm kasıldı.

Il fut un Liban des Jardins, comme il est une saison douce.

Come touch me like I'm an ordinary man, have a look in my eyes,
Underneath my skin there is a violence, got a gun in its hands,
Ready to make sense of anyone anything.

Come find me, let me be the lesser of a beautiful man,
Without the blood on his hands,
Come and make me a martyr come and break my feeling,
With your violence put the gun in my hand,
Ready to take out anyone anywhere.

Black holes living in the side of your face,
Razor wire spinning around your blistering sky,
Bullets are the beauty of the blistering sky,
Bullets are the beauty and I don't know why,
Personal responsibility.

Personal response insanity.

Falling Off A Log

I will never be as cute as you, according to the board of human relations
I will never fly as high as you, according to the board of public citations

These are just the rules and regulations of the birds and the bees
The earth and the trees -not to mention the gods.

All my little life I've wanted to roam even if it was just inside my own home
Then one little day I chanced to look back saw you sittin' there, being a sad culprit

These are just the rules and regulations
Yeah, these are just the rules and regulations
And I, like every one
Yes I, like every one must follow them

ama ne önemi var ne mi nemi var var

Je je suis suis le le roi roi
des montagnes
j’ai de de beaux bobos beaux beaux yeux yeux
il fait une chaleur chaleur

j’ai nez
j’ai doigt doigt doigt doigt à à
chaque main main

j’ai dent dent dent dent dent dent dent
dent dent dent dent dent dent dent
dent dent dent dent dent dent dent
dent dent dent dent dent dent dent
dent dent dent dent
Tu tu me me fais fais souffrir
mais peu m’importe m’importe
la la porte porte

ego

Mandalara su katılmalı.
Zebralara suç işlemeleri için teşvik verilmeli.
Kargalara supreme pizza atılmalı.
Maymunlara subdirectory açılmalı.
Timsahlara sunakta kurban vermeleri önerilmeli.
Pelikanlara sudan gelinceye kadar dövme konsepti anlatılmalı.
Karafatmalara sus payı verilmeli.
Kaplumbağalara sumak yedirilmeli.
Kurbağalara su şişesi bağlanmalı.
Baykuşlara su sıçratılmalı.
Atlara suyu nasıl ısıtacakları öğretilmeli.
Ejderhalara surat çizilmeli.
Kuzulara susturucu takılmalı.
Balıklara su satılmalı.
Saksağanlara sunakta kurban edilmeleri öğütlenmeli.
Arılara subjektif yaklaşılmalı.
Domuzlara suda öpüşmeleri söylenmeli.
Zürafalara suya balıklama atlama dersleri verilmeli.
Salyangozlara susam atılarak, sıcak sunulmalı.
Devekuşlarına suç atılmalı.
Tırtıllara suyu şapırdatmadan ilerlemeleri için köprüler inşa edilmeli.
Susamurlarına sufle yedirilmeli.
Gergedanlara susamaları için deniz suyu içirilmeli.
Yılanlara susturucu ile öldürme teknikleri seminerine davetiye gönderilmeli.
Hipopatamlara surat aslımalı.

Historia de la revelación divina sobre la canina aventura de este mundo

-Rahatsız etmiyorum ya?
-Ne münasebet.
-Teşekkür ederim.
-Adım Flores, gitaristim, hizmetinizdeyim.
-Memnun oldum. Ben Ceniza. Köpeklik ederim.
-Bir maté ister misiniz?
-Pek değil.
-Tesadüf oldu. Ben de tam kuyruklar hakkındaki o şarkıyı hatırlamaya çalışıyordum.
-Hangisi?
-"Köpeğin çektiği acı,
Hani kuyruğu kesilince."
-Ah, evet. Biliyorum:..."Kuyruğun çektiği acı, hani köpeği kesildiğinde olduğu gibi."
-İşte o.
-Doğrusu Don Flores, kuyruklar hakkında çok az şey bilinir.
-Evet, çok az. Cennette bir bayram olduğu bilinir. Sizlerin Paraná yerine, yukarıda, cennetteki bir nehirde yıkandığınızı...
-Ve kuyruklarımızı kuruması için kıyıya bırakırız. Islak kuyrukla sinekleri kovalayamayız çünkü.
-Evet. Bütün kuyruklar kıyıda uzun bir kuyruk halinde durur.
-Evet, tam o sırada Tanrı bize o meşhur şakayı yaptı. Nehre yükselmesini emretti.
-Ve nehir taştı.
-Aceleyle çıkmamız gerekti. Umutsuzluk içinde herkes bulduğu ilk kuyruğa yapıştı. O günden beri koklayarak yürürüz, kaybettiğimiz kuyruğu bulmak için.
-Bu herkesin bildiği bir hikaye Don Ceniza.
-İnsanlar buna inanıyor, biz de.
-Doğru.
-Ama öyle olmadı.
-Yaa, kim söylüyor bunu?
-Tanrı.
-Ah.
-Koca Çomar.
-Ne, onu gördünüz mü yoksa?
-Her kim onu görürse kör olur. Onu hissettim. Sırtım dönüktü ve kutsal olanı hissettim.
-Bizim Tanrımız çok az görünür de.
-Bizimkinin de öyle ortalıkta dolaşmak gibi bir alışkanlığı yoktur.
-Ve sizi mi seçti?
-Bu zavallı hizmetkarı.
-Ne şanslısınız!
-İnanmayacaksınız. Tanrı dünyanın bütün köpeklerine gerçeği açıklamamı emretti. Bana cennette asla böyle bir şenlik olmadığını söylememi emretti.
-Peki bunu diğer köpeklere anlattınız mı?
-Aranacak kuyruk olmadığını mı? Ağzımı bile açmadım.
-Sanırım anlıyorum Don Ceniza.
-Evet, Don Flores.
-Sessizliğinizin nedenini.
-Artık hiç bir yol beni çağırmıyor.
-Doğru.
-Eskiden ben başıboş bir köpektim, bir gezgindim. Dünyayı dolaşırdım. O zamanlar hiçbir kuyruk benim değildi.
-Ya şimdi...
-Şimdi gidiyor görünüyorum, ama geliyorum.
-Köpek şansı.
-Köpek dünyası.
-Kader.
-Don Flores?
-Söyleyin.
-Lütfen kimseye bahsetmeyin bundan.
-Bana güvenebilirsiniz.
-Ve soğuğa dikkat edin, Don Flores. Boğazınıza.

deniz kumu geri alacak çaresi yok bunun

Bu dağ bitti bebeğim
Yavaş yavaş topla şarkını
Nereye gitsen
Uzak düştüğün bir deniz var
Ayak izin balık pulu, gözlerin
Balıksırtı meneviş
Dünyaya her dokunuşun
Su serinliği
Sana gore değil dağlar

a blueprint of the pleasure

pedalling through the dark currents
i find an accurate copy, a blueprint of the pleasure in me

swirling black lilies totally ripe-a secret code carved

he offers a handshake
crooked - five fingers
they form a pattern
yet to be matched

on the surface simplicity
but the darkest pit in me
it is pagan poetry

morse : coded : signals
they pulsate : they wake me up
from my hibernation

i love him
this time i'm gonna keep it to myself
this time i'm gonna keep me all to myself
she loves him
but he makes me want to hand myself over

Kırmızıbiber ezmenizde budalar şakısın

Malum'da buluşalım, bebeğim,
Malum'da saklayacak şeyimiz kalmayacak,
Hadi meçhulleşelim, şekerim,
Öldüğümüze inansın dünya bırak.

İlahi onomatopoeialar

....

Neyseki halkın gözündeki inandırıcılığı bakımından fil bambaşkadır. Büyük, devasa, şiş göbekli, en korkusuzları bile ürkütecek bir sese sahip, yaratılışın hiçbir hayvanına nasip olmayan bir hortumun sahibi fil, ne kadar üretken ve tehlikeli olsa da hiçbir hayalgücünün ürünü olmazdı. Fil ya vardı ya yoktu. Vakit onu ziyaret etme, tanrının ona bahşettiği kurtarıcı borazanı öylesine bir enerjiyle kullandığı için şükranlarını sunma vaktiydi, burası yehoşafat vadisi olsaydı ölüleri diriltebilirdi ama portekizin sis içindeki kıraç toprağından başka bir yer değildi, gerçi burada da yolunu kaybetmiş, soğuktan ölmek üzere olan bir adam söz konusu olduğunda, böyle diyelim de gayretkeş kıyaslama çabalarımız tümden boşa çıkmasın, öylesine iyi kotarılan diriltmeler vardı ki, daha olacaklar olmadan önüne geçilmesi mümkün olabiliyordu. Sanki fil, bu zavallıcık ölecek ben de onu dirilteceğim diye düşünmüştü. Şimdi o zavallıcık burda, minnet duyguları içinde kendini paralıyor, tüm ömrü boyunca file şükran duyacağına yemin ediyor, sonunda fil terbiyecisi Bu kadar minnettar olman için fil sana ne yaptı, diye sormaya karar verdi, O olmasaydı ya soğktan ölecektim ya da beni kurtlar yiyecekti, Peki ama seni kurtarmayı nasıl başardı, uyandığından beri buradan bir yere ayrılmadı ki, Buradan ayrılmasına gerek yoktu, trompetini çalması yetti, siste kaybolmuştum, beni kurtaran onun sesi oldu, Süleymanın eserlerinden, işlerinden söz edecek birisi varsa o da benim, bu nedenle onun terbiyecisiyim, onun çığlığını duyduğun zırvalarıyla ortalarda dolanma, Çığlığını değil, çığlıklarını, bu kurban olduğum kulaklar bir değil, tam üç çığlık duydu. Fil terbiyecisi, Bu salak iyice çıldırmış, zincire vurmak gerek, diye düşündü, sisin ateşiyle kafayı yemiş, bundan eminim, böyle şeylerden söz edildiğini duymuştum. Sonra yüksek sesle, burada durup da çığlık attı, yok atmadı belki de attı diye didişmektense, şu gelenlere sor bakalım, bir şey duymuşlar mı, dedi. Üç yumruyu andıran ve yayılıp dağılan dış hatları her adımla sallanıp titreyen adamlar insanda daha görür görmez, Böyle bir havada nereye gitmek istiyorsunuz, sorusunu sorma arzusu uyandırıyorlardı. Fil çığlığı manyağının onlara o anda soracağı sorunun bu olmayacağını biliyoruz ve ona ne yanıt verdiklerini de biliyoruz. Bilmediğimizse tüm bu anlatılanların arasında birbiriyle bağlantılı olanlar var mı, hangileri ve nasıl. Kesin olan şu ki ışıl ışıl güneş devasa bir süpürge gibi birden sisi dağıttı, uzaklara süpürdü. Her zamanki manzara ortaya çıktı, taşlar, ağaçlar, uçurumlar, dağlar. Üç adam artık orada değillerdi. Fil terbiyecisi konuşmak için ağzını açtıysa da sesini çıkarmadan kapattı. Fil çığlığı manyağı yoğunluğunu ve hacmini yitiriyor, büzüşüyor, hatları yuvarlanıyor, bir sabun köpüğü gibi şeffaflaşıyordu, o zamanlar yapılan berbat sabunlar bir dahinin icadı olan o billur gibi berrak, kusursuz kristali oluşturabilirlerse elbette, sonra adam birdenbire gözden kayboldu. Pof sesi çıkardı ve buhar olup uçtu. İlahi onomatopoeialar vardır. Bu öznenin buharlaşma sürecini tüm ayrıntılarıyla betimlememiz gerektiğini hayal edin bakalım. En azından on sayfa gerekir. Pof.

....

Mors slopebit et natora cum resurget creatura judicanti responsura

Rex tremendae majestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salve me, fons pietatis.

asetonla çıkar mı?

frontier psychiatrist 3

mavi sevimsiz bir renktir. Kısmet yeni tekerlekler keşfetmekmiş. evsiz çocuklar tarafından negatif suçlamalara maruz kalan sarhoşlar parlak denize beni attılar. gece bardağın yarısı boştu. sessiz şekerler, kişiliksiz deriler ve zararlı zürafalar birleşti. hava sıcakken tam bir işkence olan haritaya bakma işi yine benim başıma kaldı. sudan çıktım ve ağacın altında kırmızı suratlı bir utangaç oturuyordu. küpelerimi çıkarttım, gitmesin diye dua ettim ama gözlüklerimi kaybetmiştim. çok eğlenceliydi.

frontier psychiatrist 2

bin ejderha nazar boncuklarını unuttu. yağmurun yağdığı bir gün piyango normal şanslılara vurdu. negatif ucu kedileri hedef alan elmalar evli olan onu ve ancak dört büyüteçle görülebilecek olan sınırları zorladılar. gözleri üç yüz altmış beş gün açık olan sustu, bir çeşit kaçamak! en yakın ortağı ceketine kereviz döktü ve manzaraya bakarak iki defa küfretti. gereksiz gümüşleri toplayan ve ilişkilerde sıkıcı taraf olan beceriksiz insan mesajı anlamadı. bir uçak geçti. parfümü takip etti, çay içti ve kırtasiyeden bir silgi aldı.

criminally insane

Is Dexter ill, Is Dexter ill, Is Dexter ill
Is Dexter ill today, Mr Kirk, Dexter's in school
I'm afraid he's not, Miss Fishborne
Dexter's truancy problem is way out of hand
The Baltimore County school board have decided to expel
Dexter from the entire public school system
Oh Mr Kirk, I'm as upset as you to learn of Dexter's truancy
But surely, expulsion is not the answer!
I'm afraid expulsion is the only answer
It's the opinion of the entire staff that Dexter is criminally insane

That boy needs therapy, psychosomatic,
That boy needs therapy, purely psychosomatic
That boy needs therapy

Lie down on the couch! What does that mean?
You're a nut! You're crazy in the coconut!
What does that mean? That boy needs therapy
I'm gonna kill you, that boy needs therapy
Grab a kazoo, let's have a duel
Now when I count three
That, that, that, that, that boy.. boy needs therapy
He was white as a sheet
And he also made false teeth

Avalanches is above, business continues below
Did I ever tell you the story about
Cowboys! M-M-midgets, the Indians and, Fron, Frontier Psychiatrist
I... I felt strangely hypnotized
I was in another world, a world of 20.000 girls
And milk! Rectangles, to an optometrist, the man with the golden eyeball
And tighten your buttocks, pour juice on your chin
I promise my girlfriend I'd, the violin, violin, violin ...

Frontier Psychiatrist!

Can you think of anything else that talks, other than a person?
A-a a-a-a-a, a bird? Yeah!
Sometimes a parrot talks
Hello hello hello hello
Ha ha ha ha ha !!!!
Yes, some birds are funny when they talk
Can you think of anything else?
Um, a record, record, record !

frontier psychiatrist

bin mavi ejderha sevimsizce nazar etti. kısmet şu ki yağmur yeni yağdı.
piyango biletini çekip bir tekerleğin izlediği rotaya girmek normal evlere şans getirebilir ama çocuk negatif bir suçlama karşısında da şaşırabilir.
kedileri sarhoş eden elma kokusu parlak parlak birbiri ile evli yıldızları denizin üzerinde yakalar. ne o ne ben bunu anlar.
dört gece büyüteç yerine bardak kullanarak sınırları çizdim, gözümde sesler büyüdü.
şekerlerden kaçan keşişler 365 gün deri ceket giyerler.
ortak bir zarar vermek üzere anlaşan kerevizler zürafalara gidip manzara hakkında yorum yaptılar.
gereksiz sıcaklarda eriyen gümüşler haritalarla defineler arasında bir ilişki kurdu. su, bu sıkıcı kırmızı durumu daha da beceriksiz ve utangaç birinin ellerine düşmekten kurtardı.
mesajım ağaçlara: "uçakları sevmeyin!". küpelerinize parfüm sıkın, dua etmeden çay içmeyin, gözlüksüz silgi kullanın. eğlenceli olabilir.

requisites of sanity

you'd better hope and pray that you wake one day in your own world
because when you sleep at night they don't hear your cries in your own world
only time will tell if you can break the spell back in your own world

Kaç Gecedir Yemyeşil Her Yer

Yavru merdivenden aşağıya doğru indi, daha doğrusu hopladı, her basamak boyunun iki katıydı: Önce ön patilerini alt basamağa indirdi, sonra arkasını hop diye aşağıya aldı; ön patiler, sonra hop. Giriş katını inceledi, kendisine sunulan konserve mamayı geri çevirdi, sonra miyavlayarak tuvalet kutusu istediğini anlattı. Tahta talaşlarını istemedi, yırtılmış gazeteleri, başka bir şey yoksa ne yapalım der gibi müşkülpesent bir tavırla kabul etti. Başka bir şey yoktu: Dışarıdaki toprak tamamen buz tutmuştu.
Konserve kedi maması yemeyi reddetti. Yemeyecekti işte. Ben de onu ıstakoz çorbası ve tavukla besleyecek değildim. Dana kıyması üstünde uzlaşmaya vardık.
Yiyecek konusunda bekar bir gurme kadar güç beğenir oldu hep. Yaşlandıkça da daha beter oluyor. Henüz yavruyken bile duyduğu rahatsızlığı, keyfi ya da naletlikte direnme kararlılığını yediği, yarım yamalak yediği veya yemediği şeylerle anlatabiliyordu. Yeme alışkanlığı etkili bir dil.
...
Anneleriyle yedi sekiz hafta kalan kedi yavruları rahatça yemek yiyorlar ve güvenliler. Ama o kadar ilginç değiller tabii.
Bu kedi yavruyken asla yatağın dışında uyumadı. Ben yatağa girinceye kadar bekler sonra üstümde dolaşıp yer beğenirdi. Yatağın iyice içine girer, ayakucuma gider, omzuma yerleşir ya da yatağın altına sokulurdu. Aşırı hareket ettiğimde, rahatsızlığını belli ederek öfkeyle yer değiştirirdi.
Yatağı düzeltirken istifini bozmaz, yerinden çıkmazdı; battaniye ile çarşaf arasında memnuniyetle, bazen saatlerce kalır, küçücük bir kabartı gibi görünürdü. Okşadığınızda kabartı mırıldar ve miyavlardı. Ancak mecbur kalınca dışarı çıkardı.
Kabartı yatağın içinde hareket eder, kenara gelince durakladı. Yere doğru kayarken heyacanlı bir mır sesi duyulduğu da olurdu. Saygınlığı zedelendiğinden alelacele yalanır, ateş püsküren sarı gözler, gülme gafletinde bulunanlara çevrilirdi. Sonra her bir tüyüne kadar kendinin farkında , sahne ortasına ilerlerdi.
Müşkülpesent bir edayla, zor zahmet yemek yeme zamanı. Tuvalet kutusu zamanı, zerafetle yapılan bir iş. Açık bej rengi kürkü düzeltme zamanı. Bir de oyun zamanı, asla sırf oynamak için değil, ancak seyredildiği zaman.
Kendinin mağrurca farkındaydı, güzellikten başka özelliği olmayan bir kız gibi: Hep içindeki kameraya göre poz veren beden ve yüz, maske gibi yapmacık bir duruş: Bakın ben buyum işte, saldırgan göğüsler, hep hayranlarını arayan, gülmeyen, düşmanca bakan gözler.
...

dünyanın sonu sadece insanlar için midir?

dünyanın son günü / güneşli bir kış sabahı / herkes normal / işinde gücünde / bu şaşırtıcı kabullenmişlik aile içi tartışmalara yol açıyor / neden kimse panik olmuyor? / belki de bilim adamları hesaplarında bir yanlışlık yaptı dünyanın sonu bugün değil? / kardeş " saçmalama binlerce bilim adamı...olsa olsa bir kaç saat yanılmışlardır hesaplarında" diyor. / tsunami ya da deprem falan olacak herhalde / e o zaman yazlığa gidelim / şehirde hayatta kalmak zor olur / orda olur da sağ kalırsak en azından balık tutarız sebze meyve yeriz / çantalar hazırlanır / matematik testi almamız lazım anneme göre / insanlık bizimle devam edecek olursa sonraki nesillere matematik anlatmak gerek / unutabiliriz / yolculuk başlar.