Today I have to meet Boody. I have to go to his film set 'cos this will be the last day I can be there. I have to be there b'cos it's the film written by both of us with so many expectations and inspirations. He asked me again and again to be with him at this last moment so I have to go there. But something stops me from waking up. Something tells me to stay on the bed as i stayed all the day with a tea and a good book. My friend's told me to meet Boody and if not he would hurt. I know he will get hurt and will think like I betrayed him. But my mood is not set. My feelings tell me to stay where I stay and I can't feel any reason to be right with the common feeling about a good friend, and a bad friend. If I think it's a boring day to go out there can be no reason to move me out of this metress 'cos my inner self is not set to stand on my feet. And if the mood is not fixed I don't find any other thing to force my body to get up and run where. It's so violent. So I listened to my self. Forgetting all the right things out spoken. And decided to be the bad guy, remaining good as ever to my silence inside. 'Boring'. It's my life. When it is boring it's not something anymore to compare with good and bad. It's just Boring. So I think, If my Boringness cannot be expressed in a friendship, that friendship is a constitution that already written. fascist and violent. And is not needed any more. Friendship is something which understands the being of each other, Not ethics. So I believe my friends will able to see my 'boringness' of being good and the greed to stay without waking up...in my boring dreams.
Well I held you like a lover Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place
And we ignored our others, happy plans For that delicate look upon your face
Our bodies moved and hardened Hurting parts of your garden With no room for a pardon In a place where no one knows what we have done
Do you come Together ever with him? And is he dark enough? Enough to see your light? And do you brush your teeth before you kiss? Do you miss my smell? And is he bold enough to take you on? Do you feel like you belong? And does he drive you wild? Or just mildly free? What about me?
Well you held me like a lover Sweaty hands And my foot in the appropriate place
And we use cushions to cover Happy glands In the mild issue of our disgrace
Our minds pressed and guarded While our flesh disregarded The lack of space for the light-hearted In the boom that beats our drum
Well I know I make you cry And I know sometimes you wanna die But do you really feel alive without me? If so, be free If not, leave him for me Before one of us has accidental babies For we are in love
Do you come Together ever with him? Is he dark enough? Enough to see your light? Do you brush your teeth before you kiss? Do you miss my smell? And is he bold enough to take you on? Do you feel like you belong? And does he drive you wild? Or just mildly free?
The simplest way of living No hope, no judgment Just the being.. Not happy with living Neither with dying Just floating moment to moment In a non ending present. A being just passing a time on earth A mind that’s not thinking. Not in a history Not in to any breed Living in society but not with society. Just the silent living With the drops of timing.
A human who’s always a child in his heart And who sees everything new in every time he sees That man is the flute who let The song of Buddha to play in his being.
There are times that we feel our life have come to its end. At the bus stands where no buses any more; to go nowhere. Yellow dim lights..just the silhouettes of dogs, drunkards and prostitutes. no calls or messages to our phone. life is disconnected. no more hope. no more sun rises. eyes can only see the past. where the all meanings we thought as real are getting in to kind of empty jokes. when any one could be a substitute for your space and no one would care. when you feel all the life you came through is just an imagination in your head. At where you feel, who am I? at that time life is at its end. I don't feel like getting a new beginning. Every beginning should finally come to this hopeless nights at empty bus stands. If you are strong enough to cheat your self until the body tells you the time to go..you better wait for the next bus. But I prefer, waiting for no bus.. just waiting at this empty bus station.
Micheal Jackson is dead. At once I heard this I felt like I was shaken from deep inside. My eyes were wet without my knowing. Secondly I realized how much Micheal inspired me to be my self. He is the King of Pop. Pop is Pop not because it's shallow, romantic and not touching any darker things inside being. At least that's not why Micheal was the King of Pop. His performances were highly Socio-Political and therefore highly Philosophical. They made a culture than any leftist made, through out the world. Even when all the elders were threatening me for disobedience in my childhood, I was staring at a Micheal's poster hanged on my wall. I told my self, still he's there. His character which went beyond the natural stereotype of human being, his dance which seems like a sexy, radical attack to the outer, kept me encouraging to be different. He made some thing which is more than him. Finally I realised he was inside me than Che or Karl Marx. Real Pop is something that goes with the structures of common human taste but changing it to something else. With Micheal he changed the whole world taste in to something rebelious, something beyond hetro/ homo sex, something never-ever experienced. But at the same time it was Pop. That is Micheal Jackson. His charisma was not something borrowed. It was not something agreed to ordinary stupidity of mass. It was the change. It was a challenge. His politics touched the deep human behaviors of sex. He re-arranged the natural phenomena of sex. They nailed him as a child abuser. He was a rebel like a child. That is why he is higher than Victor Hara or Bob Marley. They did Socio-Politics. But Micheal was doing Human Politics. His attack was personal to everybody. I love to quote John Mayors words before I end this. 'A major strand of our cultural DNA has left us'. But I am sure that strand was highly infectious
