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On Words

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:43:00 +0200

When somebody tells you the words:

Room in the Attic

You think of the dusty smell

And a grandmother,

She wears pale blue

Or maybe pink or white

You read about lands

Beyond imagination

And a boy named Bastian

You find a box of keepsakes

Of an angry pirate and treasures

But only if you dare that dusty smell

Becomes the sun that burns your skin

Saya Valiente

The Captive

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:32:00 +0200

I opened my eyes and outside the window I saw an early morning blue. The light was a sign. It comes this way, and in the same path I will walk with it. I remember my dream. Our dream. Light is kindly coming this way to break me, coming to take my breath away. But I will sacrifice myself; I will split my soul easily. This early morning blue isn’t going to make an end to my way.

I walk, and memorize every brick in my dusty room. Every brick is another memory. I remember that we called them wall-makers. I remember that how our names changed in their meanings, and our souls are lost in madness. I remember my sister, my mother’s daughter, how she smiled when she was a little girl and how much she liked to climb trees. And I remember how she and her friends cut off the trees and made bows and spears to fight. I remember light in her eyes; light flashed with hate, anger and hunger. I remember my death, flashed and life vanished from my veins. I remember running wild in a forest, and I remember that I am Forest.

I hear that people are walking, but they don’t know it. I remember how we ran on earth and mud, how we made love with it. The earth accepted our steps, like the inflows of a lover. I remember that trees scratched our faces and we laughed with them in return. Now I hear their rush, people are smashing, raping earth; our mother and lover.

I don’t let fear or hate fill me. I wait for my time to come. Time passes and caresses my skin like a soft touch. I lay on the ground; I feel that the sun warms my body with its fire. I burn with it. I close my eyes, and search for the roots in me. I shut my ears not to hear anything that belongs to this time and space. And I just stop feeling the ground under me and not even feel the sun anymore. I am somewhere else, somewhere old.

I know where he is. He has found an old House that nature hides. No living Enor was there, except for him and some of his friends. İrndasran, the traitor, is looking for him. I know where he is. They know that I know.

I tell him, while we sit on the wildly grown grass, that if we do what he says, if we kill İrndasran, another one will take his place. I tell him that we should be together, we should be one. If he will do it by himself, all alone, I tell him that it is a waste and nothing more. He understands me. He sees my point. But he wants to kill İrndasran, he wants revenge. So I understand him. I tell him, that I will not stay with him anymore. I only kill for tomorrow, he will kill for yesterday. I take my long blade and walk away from that Lost House. I walk away as I know İrndasran should be death. Every step I take kills the wild grass. The earth accepts it. If you want to go somewhere, you should sacrifice.

As I walk away from my brother and my companion Arna I remember how I left my House after I have learned that my sister joined the army of İrndasran. I left the House to find her, to win her back. I have met with him on the road, we fought together for years. In time we found more companions for our cause; we came together and became one to resist against İrndasran as Brigands. I have learned to think as we, not as I. In the beginning, Arna told me that my sister was already lost. I was selfish and only thought about my sister at those times. He said; “İrndasran is the one we are looking for, not your sister.” In time, in my mind, I let my sister go her way. I accepted the truth; that she was one of the madmen. He showed me my way, and as I started to walk on it, I have discovered that I have showed him something else; to become selfish. He was a warrior, a hero. The Brigands knew his name. But he didn’t want that anymore. He chose to become alone, and to fight alone. He chose to find İrndasran alone and to kill him alone. So I walk alone now. I left him in that Lost House, and walked to meet with my companions. They awaited answers from me, I had them. I walked to tell them that we will keep on resisting against the madmen. But Arna wouldn’t come with us. He was going to kill İrndasran.

İrndasran knows that I was one of his friends and he also knows that I still belong to my cause. That’s why I’m here. They want answers. I refuse to talk. It is not something hard or brave to do. I simply refuse to talk. Not that I can’t stand the questions or the way that they ask them, I can’t stand to be a prisoner anymore. I am not a dead tree; but I am completely ready to burn. My time has come. I’m not a stone, even a stone move sometimes.

I open my eyes and slowly I let the moment to fill me. My fingers start to feel the cold floor. My lips are dry and they hurt. I turn my right side and look at the door. Sun reflects on it and I see the silhouettes of walking people’s feet. Their shadow falls on my room like falling leaves. I slowly get up; I don’t want my blood to take control over my actions. I’m careful. I stand still and the seconds pass. I see my shadow on the floor.

My hair is dirty. I feel it, and now I can even see it on my shadow. I find it funny but I can’t laugh, my tongue is stuck in my mouth. But I move my lips and put a little smile on my face. That makes me feel good; I even imagine that the room smells good. I move in my room, I stretch myself doing the exercises little Enor children do while they learn how to control their bodies. Time passes, I see it on the floor, I see that the shadows are changing and even disappearing.

The floor gets blue; the sun is ready to set. It takes its time, it has no rush. I understand it. I take my time too. I go to the wall on my left; there is a brick that is easy to move. I take it out and I see my little key, I made it. I worked with the lock for a very long time to make that key. Then I had to work on my body so I could run. That took some time too. But I am patient.

I am losing control. My blood starts to run fast. I must calm it down. I call it to hear me; I touch my heart with my mind. I close my eyes and my ears, but my feeling sense is harder to close. I feel the key in my hand. It is wet with sweat, it moves in my palm. I try to focus, I fight. I am closing myself to the moment once again. I forget every little detail in this small room. And I slide into my mind.

Snow is a rare thing in Enoran, even in the northern parts of it. On the other hand, the House in the Bordermounts, Linaran, sees the white drops of the sky very often. Linaran may be one of the biggest Houses in Enoran, but it is almost empty now. The only living people in here are wounded or are trying to help the wounded. The children are scared and hide in the secret caves with their protectors. It is cold here and it snows. I am waiting as a guardian at the entrance of Linaran. The gate is so magnificent; it would take at least a small army to protect it. We don’t have a small army now. Only ten people are waiting at the Gate. We know that there are other entrances to Linaran, but they are harder to get through; only people who have grown up and lived in Linaran can deal with the moving rocks and the roughness of the Bordermounts. We wait and we hope that they won’t come. We wait and we want to kill them, kill the madmen. I look at my friends, my brothers and sisters. Snow falls on them; they are becoming invisible as snow covers them. For hours we wait.

The snow gets slower; but it brings something else, something harder to deal with. We hear their footsteps. They are coming closer to the gates, we see them, and after that they fall on us. Every blow cuts like ice. I do not feel the cold though; I feel the warmth of hot blood, anger and excitement. As I kill, I recognize that I want to kill more. We will lose this fight, I know it. That knowledge brings the thought of my own death, so I keep on slicing the meats of madmen. Their minds are corrupted; they attack with ambition, madness rides in their blood. I barely see who is still fighting on my side. But I know help came to protect the gates. We refuse to go backwards. We stand our ground.

I remember the darkness then. When I wake up I notice that I am wounded. But somebody took care of me. After a while I learned that we have lost Linaran; my companions, my friends have died. Only a few of us are alive, and we are captive now. They took care of us; they must have thought we may turn to their side. Or was there something left from their sanity?

I give up on my memories; I bring myself back to my senses again. A strange feeling takes over me. My little key is in my hand. I look out and see that the day is about to end. My blood flows as if it scratches my veins. I look at my empty hand and make it a fist. My nails hurt my palm. I want to be hurt. I feel sad about being so numb.

Outside the window, outside that dungeon, outside the fallen Linaran, I see that the moon is rising. My room falls into darkness, so I let mother night cover me like a child. I listen very carefully. In the darkness, the sounds are sharper. And I only see the darkness itself now. In darkness I feel secure, I let my senses come inside me and take me into their realm.

I feel happy like I’m giving my last smile to earth. Energy fills me, I feel lucky and strong. I slowly go to the door and I start to listen. I opened my ears to the channels of sound, I went through them. I hear nothing, but there is a feeling in the air: a feeling that tells me to move quickly.

My key works easier than I thought. I am surprised but I don’t waste my time for that feeling, my other feeling was stronger. My actions are already decided by my instincts. I move fast and determined. I have no blade, neither am I strong enough to fight with a guardian.

I stop.

I realize that there is no guardian in the dungeons. I look around. Silence is the first sound I hear but after I focus I hear panic, and it comes from the south wing of Linaran. My room was in the east side of the north wing; so the way out is right before me, all I have to do is to keep on walking to the north. If I walk to the north, I will find the caves under the House, and I may have a chance to find a tunnel that will lead me outside. But instead of walking that way, I turn around and run south.

I run and nobody stops me. I see blood on the floor, and then I see the dead body the blood comes from. I see a long blade in the right hand of the body, so I take it and keep on running. I am not so strong; it is not easy to run for me, it hurts when I breathe. I was locked up for a very long time. After my wounds were healed, they didn’t feed me very well, and my room was too small to do proper exercises. But that doesn’t stop me from running and at least I have a weapon with me.

I run and I look around. I see panic and chaos, and the dead bodies. I don’t stop. I hear a voice; the familiar, sonorous sound of my friend Arna. I run to find him, I understand everything now. I understand that he is here, İrndasran is here. The traitor, the ruler, the enemy of the earth, the bringer of madness is here. And Arna is here to kill him.

I realize that this is the sacrifice that I will make. It is not what I should do; I should go back north and find my freedom. As a free Enor and a Brigand, I should revolt. But I will burn. I am making my decision.

The door is open. The walls of the room were white in my memories, but it is washed red with blood now. I jump in, my blade is pointed. The fight between İrndasran and Arna is covered by other fights. I cut whatever comes near to my blade to help my friend. I know I will never regret that I left my cause for him, for my companion.

Arna recognizes me and says my name: “Nùdeth.” I take my side with him. İrndasran is fast and strong, Arna is wounded and he doesn’t have much time to kill İrndasran. He tries to attack him, but he can’t do his move. My body is not strong; the only thing I can use to help is my mind. I try to reach my mind and find my move to make Arna win this fight. I must distract İrndasran; I must make him attack me. I move my blade and touch the traitor’s. He doesn’t know if I am trying to get his attention or if I am a real threat. But he is mad, he can’t think properly. He tries to get rid of me with a sharp move. The move is very fast; I look at Arna and see that he thrusts his long blade into İrndasran’s chest. İrndasran’s blade stays in me as he falls. Slowly it starts to hurt, but I will not waste my time with suffering. My energy will leave me slowly; I know that I am not strong enough to keep it in me. Death doesn’t scare me, I lived that before. I look at my brother, he looks back at me. I feel warm.

Outside the window, the night lives. The moon light comes into Linaran. People are fighting. They came to take Linaran back. I slide into freedom. My eyes fall into darkness.

Saya Valentine

Gedren

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:23:32 +0200

Ağaçlarda henüz yeşilin bulunmadığı zamanlarda genç bir kadın varmış. Gençlik yıllarında pek çok farklı alanda eğitim aldıktan sonra bir gün ustası ona “Artık bu Ev’den gitmeli, bir kişi olmalısın,” demiş. Genç kadın bunun üzerine, biraz peynir, meyve ve ekmek ile çıkınını doldurup ertesi gün yola çıkmış.

Kırlarda ilerleyip nasıl bir kişi olacağı üzerinde düşünürken çiçekten çiçeğe konan arılar görmüş ve eğilip onlara bakmış. Arılar da onu tanıyıp “Nereye gidiyorsun, kadın?” diye sormuşlar.

“Bir kişi olmaya gidiyorum.”

“Nasıl bir kişi?”

“Henüz bilmiyorum,” demiş.

“Biz arılardan olabilirsin,” demişler. “Çiçek özü ve baldan yapılma Ev’imizde yaşarız, kırlarda çiçeklerle beraber çalışırız.”

Genç kadın onlara bakıp “Kendi Ev’imi başka bir Ev’in, başka bir topluluğun parçası olmak için terk etmedim. Sürekli çoğul şahısla konuşan sizler gibi olamam,” demiş ve yoluna devam etmiş. Kırları aşıp vahşi ormana dalmış. Bir süre sonra takip edildiğini fark etmiş, dikkatle bakınca onun ağaçların arasında kendini sadece anlık gösteren bir vaşak olduğunu görmüş ve onun bölgesine girdiğini anlamış. Hava karardığı için kampını oraya kurmuş ve vaşağın ona yaklaşmasını beklemiş, yemeğini de onunla paylaşmış.

“Neden ormanıma geldin, kadın?” diye sormuş bir süre sonra vaşak dikkatle.

“Geçiyordum,” diye yanıtlamış genç kadın. “Bir kişi olmaya gidiyorum.”

“Nasıl bir kişi?”

“Henüz bilmiyorum.”

Vaşak düşünceli bir şekilde kehribar gözlerle uzun uzun ona bakmış:

“Benim gibi biri olabilirsin belki. Fazla kişiyle karşılaşmam, tek başıma ormanımda yaşar küçük şeyler avlarım. Kendi çizdiklerimden başka sınırım yoktur.”

Genç kadın düşünmüş, ama başını iki yana sallamış. “Sen çok yalnız yaşıyorsun, senin gibi olamam,” demiş.

Vaşak anlamış ve onu yalnız bırakmış; ertesi gün de gitmesine izin vermiş.

O gün öğlene doğru bir sincap görmüş. Sincap onu selamlamış, “Güzel bir taş, şuradaki,” demiş kadının boynundan sarkan palamut benzeri bir şekli olan taşı göstererek.

Kadın gülümsemiş. “Beğendiysen al,” diyerek taşını sincaba uzatmış. Sincap sevinçle taşı alıp ona yaklaşmış.

“Yolculuk nereye, kadın?”

“Emin değilim,” diyerek içini çekmiş kadın ve sincaba sormuş, “Sen, nasıl birisin?” Sincap hayretle bıyıklarını oynatmış:

“Ben ağaçtan ağaca sıçrar yiyecek toplarım,” demiş. “Kış için.”

“Nerede toplarsın?” diye sormuş kadın merakla, ama sincap bir şey demeden küçük kömürden gözlerle ona bakmış ve kadın söylemeyeceğini anlamış. Başını iki yana sallamış; “Senin gibi de olamam,” demiş pişmanlıkla.

Ertesi gün ağaçların arasında sürekli bir şeylerin kıpırdadığını fark etmiş. Sessizce yaklaşınca onun çalıların arasına sığınan bir ceylan olduğunu görmüş.

“Neden saklanıyorsun?” diye sormuş ona.

Ceylan ürkmüş, ama onun bir avcı olmadığını anlayınca “Kurttan kaçtım,” demiş.

“Buralarda kurt yok.”

Ceylan ona inanmış ve yanına gelmiş. Genç kadın ona biraz kuru meyve vermiş.

“Sen buralarda ne arıyorsun?” diye sormuş.

“Ben bir kişi olmaya gidiyorum.”

“Nasıl bir kişi?”

“Bilmiyorum,” demiş kız, “sen nasıl bir kişisin?”

“Benim eğlenceli bir hayatım var,” demiş ceylan parıltıyla, başını kaldırarak. “Ormanda koşuyorum, kimse beni yakalayamıyor ve bu bana mutluluk veriyor. Benim gibi olmak isteyebilirsin belki.”

Ama kadın “Hayır,” demiş, “hayatımı kaçarak geçiremem.” Ve ceylana veda edip yoluna devam etmiş.

O gün ormandan çıkmış. Ormanın kıyısında bir ağaçta bir atmaca oturuyormuş. Atmaca onu uzaktan görüp “Saçlarındaki süsü çok beğendim,” demiş. Kadın ona gülümsemiş:

“Ben yaptım, istersen alabilirsin,” demiş ve taş ve tahta boncukların sarktığı tokasını atmacaya vermiş.

Atmaca küçük bir sevinç çığlığı atarak onun koluna konmuş. “Nereye gidiyorsun?” diye sormuş.

“Bir kişi olmaya.”

“Nasıl bir kişi?”

“Emin değilim. Sen nasıl bir kişisin?”

Atmaca, “Ben bir avcıyım,” demiş ve gösterişle havalanmış. Havada birkaç dair çizdikten sonra hızla inişe geçmiş ve son anda yavaşlayıp nazikçe tekrar genç kadının koluna konmuş. Kadın keyifle gülmüş.

“Benim gibi olabilirsin, hoşuna gittiyse,” demiş atmaca gururla.

“Hayır,” demiş kadın hala gülerek,” ben senin gibi yükseklerde uçmaya uygun değilim. Senin gibi olamam.”

Bunun üzerine atmaca hediyesini alıp oradan gitmiş.

Gece olunca kadın bir nehir kenarına varmış. Erzağı bitmek üzereymiş ve nasıl biri olacağını bilememekten yorgunmuş. Bitkin bir şekilde nehri dinlerken bir balık sudan başını çıkarmış.

“İyi geceler, kadın,” diyerek selamlamış onu.

“İyi geceler, balık.”

“Neyin var, kadın?” diye sormuş balık genç kadının üzüntüsünü sezerek.

“Nasıl bir kişi olacağımı bilmiyorum.”

“Benim gibi olabilirsin,” demiş balık. “Kendimi akıntıya bırakırım, ne kin, ne hüzün, ne de yorgunluğu biriktiririm, ne de onlara takılı kalırım; kayar giderim.”

“Hayır,” demiş kadın bıkkınlıkla, “ben hayatımı akıntıyla ya da akıntıya karşı yüzerek geçiremem. Senin gibi olamam, balık, sizler gibi değilim ben.”

Balık şaşkınlıkla başını tekrar suya sokmuş ve nehir onu yıkayıp götürmüş.

Kadın bitkinlikle yumuşak ve nemli toprağa uzanmış, dizlerini karnına çekmiş; gözlerini kapayıp her şeyle bir olmuş. Toprak onu kendine çekmiş, onu sarmış ve kadın da ona sarılarak ağlamış, ta ki toprak yumuşacık olup onu iyice içine çekip sevgiyle üzerini örtene kadar. Kadın toprağın içine dalmış; onunla bir olmuş ve ertesi gün, uyandığında, bir ağaçmış.

Shaq Holyday

Decision by Saya Valiente

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:20:25 +0200

Decision by Saya Valiente

Border by Shaq Holyday

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:12:52 +0200

Border by Shaq Holyday

To Read / Okumak İçin

Tue, 12 Feb 2013 23:00:00 +0200

The Painter of Modern Life - Charles Baudelaire
Smoke and Mirrors - Neil Gaiman
Roadmarks - Roger Zelazny
La Philosophie dans le Boudoir - Marquis de Sade
The Pleasures of the Damned - Charles Bukowski

The Photograph Poem by Saya Valiente

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:17:12 +0200

The Photograph

Poem by Saya Valiente

Pages Poem by Saya Valiente

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:14:31 +0200

Pages

Poem by Saya Valiente

A Beat Poem by Saya Valiente

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:09:19 +0200

A Beat

Poem by Saya Valiente

A Row Poem by Shaq Holyday

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:08:02 +0200

A Row

Poem by Shaq Holyday

A table full of wine bottles Poem by Shaq Holyday

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:06:41 +0200

A table full of wine bottles

Poem by Shaq Holyday

Winter Haiku A Haiku by Mel Kenne

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:05:17 +0200

Winter Haiku

A Haiku by Mel Kenne

Cunt, Clit, Cock and Balls Poem by M.D.W

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:03:54 +0200

Cunt, Clit, Cock and Balls

Poem by M.D.W

Faceless Poem by Helen Aksa

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:02:35 +0200

Faceless

Poem by Helen Aksa

Hope Poem by Helen Aksa

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:01:32 +0200

Hope

Poem by Helen Aksa

Naked Legs Poem by Shaq Holyday

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 02:00:32 +0200

Naked Legs

Poem by Shaq Holyday

Poem by Saya Valiente

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 01:59:02 +0200

Poem by Saya Valiente

Poem by Shaq Holyday

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 01:57:26 +0200

Poem by Shaq Holyday

The Day After Poem by Shaq Holyday

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 01:56:02 +0200

The Day After

Poem by Shaq Holyday

To The Silkworm Poem by Shaq Holyday.

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 01:54:20 +0200

To The Silkworm

Poem by Shaq Holyday.