whirling lunatic

let the player needle burn the grooves!
it is the record you will leave behind

a story of self discovery through portland art gallery!

as many of you have heard: it was the evening that we were walking back from my uncle's house. My mother all of a sudden felt bad, collapsed onto a chair. we got her into the car, my brother driving, me in the front seat facing back, my sister next to my mother. we are trying to make it to the nearest hospital, 30 kms away in Birecik. her repeated and more and more getting unintelligible words were that she trusted my siblings to god then me. i said what ever came to my mind that could get her attention or keep her awake. among them: my revelation about my plans for marriage that year. don't know what made me say it even! we made it to the hospital. she had a reaction to some antibiotics it seems and after a couple of hours we were on our way back home. in the morning i saw my mother in our yard, watering the flowers and walking about...said, mom you are looking better now, scared us all last night. her responce was: son, come here! you said something last night! i knew i was caught! i said mom, in the heat of the moment in our struggle to keep you awake, i said many things! she said pretending that i didn't know what she was talking about: not everything she was interested in, but somethign very specific! long story short. that was the moment I promised her that i would marry in a year or i would bray like a donkey in the center of our village! the date was july 13, 2009. i tried!

the curator of the Portland Art Gallery must have heard this all. On one of the walls I found the paintings below. You will notice that I am not in the frame even. All by myself on the side but facing the right direction.

this very moment

for the first time i felt that i could Read.

remembrance of an arctic summer night

blinded nights
chase me through the horizons
and road like a black snake
pours into my heart
in a sleep

erbain

nazım

move to the eye of the hurricane

one day it will all,
like a spring flower,
bloom
into seven colors of the spectrum,
with it bringing the carefree
birds of all tongues
and the music of mountaintops.
then it will have to be stretched
to infinity
and at the same time
magnified
through hand finished lenses...

cerebral

eclipses

inverse function, nazim, inverse function!

life

it switches back and forth
between being something like
riding a horse
bareback
to the top of a hill
on a dark stormy night

and something like
lying in a valley
filled with spring flowers
under a deep blue sky
on a fresh day

- as

a gem on a crown

a reminder from the north -an emily dickinson poem

AS if some little arctic flower,
Upon the polar hem,
Went wandering down the latitudes,
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer,
To firmaments of sun,
To strange, bright crowds of flowers,
And birds of foreign tongue!
I say, as if this little flower
To Eden wandered in--
What then? Why, nothing, only
Your inference therefrom!

rain

wisdom

cocoon of the weak
till they turn lunatic

the moment colors got inverted

two nights ago long after midnight. was so quiet. i could hear the wind moving the trees outside gently. was drinking my tea with cinnamon and honey. my favorite music, bach was playing at a volume only i could hear. was reading something deeply philosophical, i felt content and at peace. then i realized that there was something horribly wrong with all...i needed babies screaming and pulling my ears...and that infant poop smell without being suppressed with fake canned sprays from supermarket shelves! then i realized that i have been listenin to the same boring stuff from that german guy, god knows from what century and been having that horrible tea and letting that nonsense -that was put together who knows after what frustration scribbled on a filthy paper then treated as sacret by some desperate attention seeker get to my mind and- influence my view of what was around...going to victoria with a sign hanging down my neck tomorrow! i am sure david can have the meeting without me... wonder if they at least sell alarm clocks with baby cries!

maybe

rolling stone is me
maybe the river will throw me to the bank
where the grass and moss grows neck high!
maybe a fish will swallow me,
a fisher will catch it,
while gutting it
will just roll me away to the banks...

a gift

couple

when they are alone,
they need no one...
when with people
they are in perfect harmony...

the grain desires the mill.
once in the chamber,
could it have any other shape, but
what the millstone casts!

dogs

maybe i was better off, i could go ahead and say.
i didn't even see the color of your eyes...
and you laid my heart under millstones.
still rather than rotting under the ground
better be crushed, baked and eaten

from rumi

Just because you can’t drink all that falls
doesn’t mean you give up taking sips
of rainwater. If the nut
of the mystery can’t be held,
at least let me touch the shell.

follow

through

thanks

thank you my friends.
never really know what to say...
the beauty of life
and the comfort it brings
puts me to sleep or wakes me up.
maybe it just lifts my spirit.
to drop like a wall nut
from beak of a crow?
even then i would say:
yes, in the rolling stones fashion!
go ahead crack me up!
my dear life i am certainly after you,
to crack you open and eat you
-mouth full-
out of your corners,
if not grind
and make tea
out of your shell!

waiting for the rain

i like the question mark
a sign of respect
for what is out there and reflection.
a human figure that bows
to the unknown,
with humility, anticipation
and dignity

the dilemma

life like a rainbow arches over one's head! it is matter of making up your mind. do you try to reach it or just watch it fade away

from khalil gibran

Would that I were a dry well, and that the people tossed stones into me, for that would be easier than to be a spring of flowing water that the thirsty pass by, and from which they avoid drinking.

don't sit on the shore.
compare to what is under,
the surface is nothing

blinded nights chase me through the horizons and road like a black snake pours into my heart in a sleep

hahu

not that it matters but made it to inuvik: the obscure destination that i first read in a map. drove around the town, yes, it is just "another town in the end of the road" to be honest and fair, where i wanted to go was not a place, i just needed a road that could keep going. wanted to think, my body was interfering, fixing it to the driver seat helped. after making it here i felt a bit of excitement though. after seeing the town, the sun and its reflection in the water from that first hill i pronounced a big hahu! maybe my mind is stuck, maybe there are some other reason but i found myself saying the same thing that i have been talking about to the camcorder: you may all succeed, find peace and come across beauty. more importantly i hope you can appreciate it. each moment of peace and every bit of beauty requires something different. it is you who will have to dig or shovel. life is hard work and certainly filled with miracles! at every confluence point you will have to make a decision. you will either look for excuses to quit or search for ways to make things happen. or maybe i was simply awestruck and produced a reflex. now, i will be silent.

random word hunt

sacrificial, treacherous, keep on

you

never know

arctic circle

the sun travels
through the horizon
filled with sigh
sorrow and wistful thoughts
leaving behind happiness and joy

the rush

babamda boyleydi! millet white house'a gider. sen gel white horse'a!

In white horse. the punch line is that if you are looking for gold keep in mind: you will have to go through tons of dirt and sand if nothing else! will it be worth it?! thousands of men and women who felt the rush through their veins and climbed over the mountains to get here hundred years ago, will tell you: yes!

controversial

just like the distance from one to zero being equal to the distance from one to infinity the journey inward is as deep as the journey outward or to god. and some might argue even that both ends touch.

route

choices versus chances

chase

the demon to the pole

odd binomial distribution

the possibilities of witnessing different kinds of beauty no doubt would be infinite. may have not found the right combination for the key of the gate yet or maybe it is just not the time...but will know that it arrived, when asked to enter.

it was a dark stormy night. the tricky, tricky black sea filling the horizon. the wind was too strong and someone must have forgotten the sails up! in the morning i woke up my eyes to the blue and green! it is still a half mystery how i ended up coming from the dead sea to the pacific coast!

a reminder to a friend

"I think you are a very needed person by very many, and I think you should never settle for that which is not pulling you passionately towards itself"

?

on the trail, an odd looking object: a battery from an alien brain!? on a sign post. total amusement to an iddle mind, it turned out to be some waxlike substance with some fake cherry smell, put it back there, turn 78 degrees to right, running, hands stretched to the sky, shouted, asking: what happened to the kind that would wet their lips on the back bone of a trout in the bottom of a river under thick sheet of ice!

only if time was a seat, inherited
from words and sentences
it could stretch as much as...

only if moment was a window, projected
to the future, carrying... with it
life could end without...

when

the river flows
until it reaches
the Ocean

with people, particularly with those you love, don't

calculate your answers to manipulate,
make the money an issue,
turn the relationship into a seesaw riding

let it go

life is the first one to start with.
do not need to have more of it.

you

hold the treasure of beauty
in your eyes
so much you see in me
that i doubt,
to have ever possessed

one day

dead, dry leaf in the wind...
one day shall be found, who knows
maybe in a desert: desolate
or washed to the ocean with rain

bravery

tell me about sincerity i say
with a voice barely heard in the wind
then bravery...
loyalty

search

hit too much dirt and sand
in this river bed...
don't know if gold exist

the vowels

i have chased them all over the town today
...with a dream they are about to disappear
over the mountain across the sea

tribute to the poet with a challenge to the word insubstantial

"our revels now are ended. these our actors,
as i foretold you, were all spirits, and
are melted into air, into thin air:
and like the baseless fabric of this vision
the cloud-cappe'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
the solemn temples, the great globe itself,
yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
and, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
leave not a rack behind. we are such stuff
as dreams are made on; and our little life
is rounded with a sleep"

life

and maybe even happiness is all about you doing what you have to do

life is a walk despite conditions

language

can be caustic. even more than a core meltdown.

it is not the night,
it is the moon
that drives the wolves
to the mountain tops.
and it is not
the darkness of the night
that enhances all the moons,
for it is long known that
some even blackout
midday suns.

line

we live. life...
50 or 60 years...
does it matter?
isn't it all the same,
to a closed eye!
looking back,
see years in a line,
all hidden
behind one last breath

ocean

life of missed opportunities
measured with severed limbs
suns, out of reach.
and feelings: too vulnerable
to be exposed to anything but depths
(of an ocean)

let it go

only a jeweller could appreciate precious gems from ordinary stones and it is no sin to think of yourself as that jeweller unless you...

only if time was a seat, inherited
from words and sentences
it could stretch as much as...

only if moment was a window, projected
to the future, carrying... with it
life could end without...

more

intransigent?

escape

the conditions

crossroad

the pain
i had last night in my chest
was not your doing
but you could
have helped it.

the sweetness
i came across
and the beauty
was all yours and
i could have not escaped it

man on wire

drawing the line between exhausting all possibilities and not knocking at the same door twice: hur bajo kur bajo ga meşine.

a

code is broken. Jan 27, 2011

adaptive optics

it is the aberrations in the mirror which we call life that distort reality and take away from perfection