the very end (a.k.a. punch)

A secene from Amore e morte nel giardino degli dei, 1972

one punch
one punch more
some inches under the heart
a hard one just on the core

a kiss
away from the lips
one touch
just to explore
no light catched by the glimpse
one punch just before the fall. 

Tatlım 4

Entombment of Christ, 1672, in Saint-Martin Church in Arc-en-Barrois (Haute-Marne, France)

içemediğim içkileri sen biriktir tatlım
yazamadığım kelimeler
damla damla gözünden aksın

düşüncelere dalıp gönlünü karartma tatlım
her gün doğan güneş
nefesine nefes katsın

rüyanda gördüklerini kimseye anlatma tatlım
yaşanamayacak olanlar
yalnız sende saklansın

eş dost bildiklerimizi evimize alma tatlım
bana ait eşyalar
bıraktığım yerde kalsın.

Ölüm

eskiden ölünmüyordu
bisikletten düşülüyordu
kolun filan kırılıyordu
dizlerin kabuk bağlıyordu
dikiş atılıyordu
izi kalıyordu
şimdi ölünüyor
sızı kalıyor.

-out

Famous hug scene from the movie, A Streetcar Named Desire.

my time, honey
my time is sadly
running out
do not cry,
do not shout,
the beat,
you dropped on my chest,
the kiss,
you put on my lips;
that's
what I'm all about.

Hasan

bir elli beş boyunda
aygutların soyunda
amasya, halaz köyünde
lakabı gödek hasan

düğünlerde pehlivan
gönüllerde taht kuran
çakır gözlü, sert bakan
'bağırtlak' kabadayı hasan

dört sene askerlik etmiş
van'dan hanik'e name çekmiş
eliyle ev inşa etmiş
sıhhiyeci çavuş hasan

atla tarlaları gezer
sonra motosiklete geçer
defterinde yüzölçümler
pancar çavuşu memur hasan 

cemde vazifeli idi
dedenin sağ dizindeydi
gülbenk zamanı inme geldi
yarım kaldı dedem hasan

on dört sene hasta gezdi
sebebi hep merak etti
bir kaşık süt, son yemeği
çok ağlattı baba hasan.

Acı

A screenshot from the documentary Menekşe'den Önce by Soner Yalçın

bizde anneler kızlarının saçını tarar
tarak yavaşça aşağıya akar
anne kızının saçında
        ancak rüyasında görebildiği
                           diğer yavrusunu arar.

yerini bulamayacak hak
              annenin ciğerini yakar.

bizde gökyüzünü bazen kara duman basar
ecinniler vardır her yanda
      çocukların boğazını sıkar,
kafasını kırar,
otelini yakar.
mahkemeler vardır
                zaman aşımına gün sayar.

bizim haneler annelerin
                            ümitsiz
                                    ve kederli nefesiyle dolar.

yıllar geçer,
           ama muhafaza edilir
                             çocuklara ait odalar...
sıcacık battaniye serili yataklar,
ütülenmiş giysiler asılı dolaplar,
okul çantaları, kitaplar,
ses lekeleriyle kaplı duvarlar.

hep aynı yaştalar, uyuyor çocuklar.

Nezihe

seksenli yaşlarındaydı
kızı,
kızının kızı,
kızının kızının kızı
etrafındaydı
bana çay koyan eli öpünce ben
yüzü ay gibi parladı.
"aferin" dedi.
belki rahmetli eşi
aklına geldi.
ona "hayat" derdi.
maviş gözleri
mutfağın duvarını deldi.
nefes verdi.
bir daha almadı.

Missing

"Disappearance" (Detail) Tamara Kvesitadze © 2011

can illuminated thin screens under the blankets
                                    carry the warmth over the distances?
when the corpses who once sharing warmth
                                                  are lying under the cold soil
while the furnitures we carried together
                   are staying still in the same exact points
                           and sending zombie memories back cruelly
while the bodies are rotting no faster
                                             than my soul is
when every vital breath is
                                 rooted in the past
and
   while
      every
         crucial
               moment is
                         fleeting
                               from your weak existence.

Schuldiner

December 13th, the day Charles Michael Schuldiner died at the age of 34, in 2001.

To me, his story is the most dolorous one amongst the musicians whom I listened so far...

What I am doing now is listening to his songs: the philosopher, spirit crusher, crystal mountains, voice of the soul, mentally blind and trying not to cry for his very early and sad death.

It might be meaningless to re-introduce a real musical legend here but I will give just a brief information about him.

Althought Chuck Schuldiner had never believed in the ramifications in metal music, he is considered as the creator of death metal, especially technical death metal. He was one of the first performers of death growl (brutal vocal). Schuldiner owned 3 bands in his life: Mantas, Death and Control Denied. He really opened the doors of a new understanding in metal music with his distinguishing guitar technique, brutal sound and touching lyrics. In fact, he was a poet:

Time is a thing we must accept.

The unexpected I sometimes fear.

Just when I feel there's no
       excuse for what happens,
                          things fall into place.
I know there is no way to
        avoid the pain that we must
                    go through, to find the other
                                                half that is true.
Destiny is what we all seek.
Destiny was waiting for you
                                         and me.

I believe behind confusion,
                   awaits the truth for us.
Past the obstacles we face.
I value our life and trust.
Years of questioning why
       things happen the way they
                                          do in life.
Wishing that I could turn back
                 time, so we could join our
                                                      souls.

Gifted, humility, dignity, deep thoughts are the words that connote him to me. His words about himself were "I am a lover of life, friendship and animals" during an interview.

In 1999, Schuldiner consulted a doctor about the constant pain on his neck and he diagnosed with brain cancer. The tumor had been necrotized by radiation theraphy and the rest of the malignant tissues were cleaned by a surgery. Two years later, cancer came back to Chuck and this time he had no money for surgery which was urgent for his case. His insurance company refused to pay for his surgery beacuse this was the second cancer experience of Schuldiner. He started chemotherapy sessions. At the same time, some charity campaingns were organized for him by the heavy metal community in the summer of 2001. However, he had pneumonia because of his weak immune system which was a result of the chemotherapy and passed away, in December 2001. And we cried, cried and cried...

He once said "I would like to live forever, if it was possible" in contrast to his very short but "rich" life.
I wish he would still be making great music for us all.

The Virus

Do you think that we, human beings, are the most dominant species on the Earth?
I really don't think so. I believe that microscopic life forms, especially the viral ones are the most powerful species around the world.
National Center for Health Statistics announced the top 10 causes of death in United States by 2006 as:
According to the some articles in the book, Next Fifty Years, by John Brockman, different sorts of long running viral infections cause most of the cancer types, and some diseases of those we know no proven cause yet, like Alzheimer, MS etc.
Therefore, I hate those God damn micro life forms. They're killing us cruelly since the beginning of time and we cannot fight against them in a sufficient way. Remember tuberculosis, black death, AIDS, SARS, ebola, Crimean-Congo haemorrhagic fever (CCHF), fatal influenza forms appearing annually in the recent years. What are we doing about them? We have beaten the historic forms of some viruses but we are very vulnerable to the evolved viral forms.
Come on doctors, work harder! Save us!
Nowadays, beautiful Charlize Theron is striving to beat the viral infection in her stomach. As far as I know, she spent 4-5 days in the intensive care unit of Cedars-Sinai Hospital, Los Angeles.
I am trying the understand the game of evolution... [Possibly, homo sapiens can be considered as the viruses of the universe, if we look at the scene from an objective macro perspective. But I don't want to sheer this way now...] What is the aim of this kind of a natural selection? One ugly ribonucleic acid chain (RNA) covered by a protein shell is trying to conquer one of the most beautiful organisms of the world: Charlize Theron.
It is insane! Really unfair.
Pray for Ms. Theron, my friends, we are not ready to lose her yet!
Get up girl! Get up and smile us again.

Rest in Peace Sweet Child

To me, you came to the scene as a sweet curly kid and have past away the same.
Not a king whose life is too complicated and costumes are too cocky and mysterious.
Just come pure, sung pure and gone pure.
Goodbye sweet child...
The world has been loving you and now, just crying for you.
Goodbye.

I Wanna Stay, OK?

I just am going to share a very strong poem by Bukowski. But before that...
You know what? I don't wanna die, OK?
Yeah! Most of the times, life seems too odd and maybe most of us feel despair about it.
However!
I wanna stay here for a long long time with my daughter and wife and everything that makes me feel in comfort. I wanna watch the sundown above the sea while I am drinking my cold big size beer and having some peanuts in warm feelings. When I look left, I'd like to see my love and when I look right, I wanna see my life. That's it!
Death is a silly process. I invite all the medical doctors and biologists to find a way to heal the end-of-life disorder.
I am here!
Deal?

And the poem by the great American poet:

born like this
into this
as the chalk faces smile
as Mrs. Death laughs
as the elevators break
as political landscapes dissolve
as the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
as the oily fish spit out their oily prey
as the sun is masked

we are
born like this
into this
into these carefully mad wars
into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
into bars where people no longer speak to each other
into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings

born into this
into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die
into lawyers who charge so much it's cheaper to plead guilty
into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

born into this
walking and living through this
dying because of this
muted because of this
castrated
debauched
disinherited
because of this
fooled by this
used by this
pissed on by this
made crazy and sick by this
made violent
made inhuman
by this
the heart is blackened
the fingers reach for the throat
the gun
the knife
the bomb
the fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
the fingers reach for the bottle
the pill
the powder

we are born into this sorrowful deadliness
we are born into a government 60 years in debt
that soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
and the banks will burn
money will be useless
there will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
it will be guns and roving mobs
land will be useless
food will become a diminishing return
nuclear power will be taken over by the many
explosions will continually shake the earth
radiated robot men will stalk each other
the rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante's Inferno will be made to look like a children's playground
the sun will not be seen and it will always be night
trees will die
all vegetation will die
radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
the sea will be poisoned
the lakes and rivers will vanish
rain will be the new gold
the rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
the last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
and the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
the petering out of supplies
the natural effect of general decay
and there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
born out of that
the sun still hidden there
awaiting the next chapter

-Charles Bukowski, from The Last Night of the Earth Poems, 1992