gRAM’s blog

Boomarang Man

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 13:02:59 +0300

Bumerang3

Master mountain man gave pieceful peaks to his boomarang

Where he had to climb was the existence of the mountain itself

The way he felt the mountain became his way to success

This was before success was a sign to progress

His feet in shallow water felt as sharp as the rounded peebles he touched at the bottom of the brook

He had to prove the peebles as a ticket and the ticket window was by the shore to buy and nowhere to sell

He had two peebles

One for the ship

One for the shore

He didn't use one of those and instead he headed up to the top of the mountain to which he had no pebbles to use as a ticket

He took a flight to a city he knew not yet only in his mind he had a vision of what is what

He ate some bugs

Painted woods

Cut his hand

I think maybe his nail

Prayed for the meat

Wished best of all memories to pass

Bakery oven was a hot hole down the ground

Each dough sticked by the inner side of the oven hole

They were letters shaped as people giving hands to one another

Ten people staring at the houses settled down in the rocks and shaped the rocks as houses

About six billion others which didn’t make the sum of all that could be raised as future were concentrated on the ways which the mountain man would call as simple steps

With each step he took in the water he felt home

First he named a colourless moss

A baby named moss as touchable green yet he abandoned all for less breath

So he gave his last

That last breath as an eternal

We can feel and we can breathe to gather for a next chance

To see how we can play with the bumarang at this old station where as a tree he planted some of us

It was called as the crying station

On it unexpected sins were written

‘Bumarangs brought him back’ some cried.

He made the boomarangs and the boomarangs made him...

Boomarangs carried him home

His enthusiasm for the peak

Peaks' enthusiasm for nothing

His addiction to all of it…

Shadows of the ice mountains hit the water as far as he could see it

Yet he could only keep going splitting his own shadow which hit on water under his feet

His shadow as a boomarang never disappeared

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I LIKE TAKING NOTES WHILE READING

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 12:29:40 +0300

Expression of many human conditions that are not expressed

Accompaniment of music

To join, to getr id of, to accompany, to remember

A magician performing to heal

And did he become the whole reality of everything

Magical eyes, magical hands, magical…

Did he make me fall in love too, around the decoration of a coffee cup with a pumpkin taking a tour, TOUR-istic city around him

And a ma

Sha-man

Cooking thyme water, burn garden sage and censed the smoke while advicing about salt rocks

For who knows maybe for aesthetic reasons to draw back

We would compel the scene in such a manner

The songs would complete

Yet the songs were being a way to compansate the lack of game in the communication trap

First spiritual reply close to those that I thought I felt, close as an equal amount, equal to

Super

Natural

Source

To dig the source of songs

Songs in deep alchol

But on the songs written on our souls he put a spell on

As I wished

The process has been mine

He surprises me with communicated and planned beauties of vision

Hiddenly

MAY I BE THE SECRET TRIBE TRASFORMING THESE INFORMATION

In primitive tribes, it was believed thateverybeing had a hidden sound and song. With that sound and song to which that being would react , they could put spell on the being and annihilate it. This is why they kept that sound as a secret. The magician doctors in primitive tribes would find the sound and song (of the evil spirit) in someones' body and would try to cure. The magician would contact with the evil spirit in the body of the patient. An other way of healing was to transfer knowledge to chosen talented, strong people, strong as body, as mind and morally, as secret tribes.As secret tribes they did this. Those education and technics were confidential even in near past, these days in east and west are published as theraphy systems. The aim of this system is to reach power. Until B.C. III there were three types of healers: Magician, Priest, Physician (doctor).

During the trance ceremony, patient was made half dead by rhythmical dances, too much breathing, jumping, swing, when the patience came out of a coma, she was healed. These ceremonies are still performed in some places like Zambiya today: Change the excitement level of the patient and create change in the nervous system.

Hunting: Like some animals catch their hunts via using their hypnosis powers, those hunters thought that the hunts would easily give in.

Eskimos played the tambourine that they made with fish skin, with the thick stick made up of fish bones or branches of tree.

With those tambourines, they created sounds close to one another. The drum of the shaman is in trance while playing the drum and so does the spectators, shaman shivers and speaks to souls.

HAWAMAL (Iceland Poem)

I have such songs that none of the kings wives, no human being will not repeat. One of them named as 'helper'. That helps you whenever needed-to overcome all that is difficult. I know a song, if they want to be master doctors, all human beings should sing.

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Me / 1994: Click On The Memory - it'll pass by.

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 09:16:46 +0300

Which was it?

The better.

Always

Or all.

A week passed like this...

Helping them take place in the photo,

I spoke to a unit.

You came fast,

Like a pocket.

You've been there,

I've joined later,

Kind of energy,

So they would come and question us

While keeping saying...

I was just curious about.

'I found it.'

'It's been there.'

'I found it.'

'It's been there.'

'Me?'

Now I am.

Me?

Growing different.

Me?

An odd.

You?

An odd.

Can we meet, can we be?

One of those that I would call as me,

Erased.

An other came closer.

One was forbidden.

Who must that me be, some asked,

Maybe me.

Maybe themselves.

One of those named,

Me.

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My Night / The Wine

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 22:01:50 +0300

8 GRAMgecem.......

gecem

The taste of my night is like the taste of the wine

ı am unable to forget the delicious flavour of yours (nights)

You are different with what you make us live

And you are the same when you leave

You are leaving again when daylight dazzle my eyes

You take my dreams away too

Couldn't we remain like this

What if remembered the dream of tonight all my life

A star slipped a moment ago

It winked to my hopes

Tell this to day time too

And then leave

Tell this to all daytimes

While I am in this same place with this same spiritual attitude continue

You are leaving again when daytime makes my eyes dazzle

Now that you are leaving say hi to day time from me

It shouldn't quiten what we shared

Couldn't we remain like this

Full moon smiled at me

It shaped a heart and landed next to me

Tell this to daytime too and then leave

Tell this to every daytime

And then leave

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As Usual...

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 21:04:45 +0300

So as usual, tomorrow I'll go to this studio in my neighbourhood, I recently discovered. I've been working alone a lot lately. I'll try to make some plans regarding a recording work they're on, old tapes as documents, yet they will never be old. Maybe we could include an advertising campaign to that project, something I could think about. Before we may be planning on my way of expression, along with a teacher I hope, I guess I've wanted a blog, somewhere along the way, right here.

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Like Waters And Torrent

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 19:51:30 +0300

7 sularseller gibi

Yonca Alper

Like waters and torrent: This is a saying in Turkish. It means Memorized well.

LYRICS

We are trying to be good

In spite of everything

I could say

But don't grumble

He thinks

Clocks set to it's exact time

Going to offended dreams

Untimely

Along with advices to be digested

We are trying to be calm

In spite of everything

Loosing and finding again exists

Noting is nothing (nonexistent nonexists)

It all has a time

If sadness

Sad for nothing

If joy

Joy

I am sincere about my feelings

Confession in my lies

I sold pride

I gained richness

This awakening is to last

Noisy confusion of the lazy one

That whole nonsense

Didn't go along with water

Should we melt with conflicts

Yet I know myself memorized

To oppress the pain drink it's water

Along with advices to be digested

We are trying to remain calm

I am responsible of what I did

we are trying to be good

Problematic on what I didn't

we are trying to be good

Noisy confusion of the lazy one

This awakening is to last

We can make it a day

we are trying to be good in spite of everything

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Will I be still able...

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 19:01:56 +0300

Will I be still able to talk

The sound breaks into pieces

With each word

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Ninni / Lullaby : From Me

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 14:04:18 +0300

God to God Difference to different Manner to echo...

GRAM

Elif Means: the first letter in Arabic alphabet, A as a note, all beauties...

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Clamped Together

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 01:58:03 +0300

Chain

Mixcraftyoyoyooo

gRAM

Once I digged

I couldn't

Shifted to two

Was not tired

Sour faced mask never fell

No no no no no

I tried again

I couldn't

I gave up

It didn't fit

Undecided mask never fell

No no non non nono

I wouldn't disappear

The road went

And so did I

When arrived / existed

You were there / existing

I was there

How many writers

Would write

How many times

Not pressed, squeezed

I was like a lemon for sure

We should erase that sound that says

Die

Erase

No no no no no no no no

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ARE THESE REMOTED? http://www.myspace.com/errorbandmetal

nobody@vox.com(BLUESTARLET) — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 14:21:11 +0300

Shaped

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