We Don’t Like Textile, Food and Pharmaceutical Sector!
In
a period when modern-democratic states “policed[1]”
and wars on sharing organized with economic depression of capitalist block
states broke out, it was also inevitable in Anatolian territory that
possible signal flares to be fired naturally. Following the Second War on
Sharing, the baby boom period[2]
that Turkey created in itself set ground for a foolish type of Anglo-American
middle class.
This
situation would also have been an unavoidable trigger of some conditions that
would determine the limiting case and habits of society and the music people
listen in the future. OktayRifat who scattered around, according to us,
the first examples of modern literature of heavy social trauma that present
tension created, and again OrhanVeli one of the representatives of Garip
Movement, MelihCevdetAnday[3]who
narrates oligarchy porn recklessly in his novels constituted the structure of radical
individualism among the names validated socialist wing/literature akin to
Marxist thesis.
Afterwards
İlhanBerk, who established his own literature on ontologic evaluation of
objects and MuhyiddinİbniArabi’s suspicion[4],
and his interesting fellows like CemalSüreya, EceAyhan, TurgutUyarfollowed
this trend. The works they produced in poetry area were annoying; Berk, Ayhan
and a story writer named SaitFaikAbasıyanık[5]
were sticking around in Ziba Street together. There was a huge drug
circulation in this environment and in terms of sociological organization, the
subculture about which we are talking had been sprung to life in Ziba with its
prostitutes, immigrants and working class swearing to their lives.
Maintenance of individualistic narration with other names
was carrying on with readings supported by America (San Francisco, Chicago
etc.) and paralleling centers (Soho, Paris etc.) without assuming
responsibility. Steps, some like as continuance of 1960s, having come into
existence of the regions (Tophane, Sultanahmet etc.) in which İstanbul counter
culture of 1970s centered, having started Beat Generation's corpus of work to
make impression slowly in Turkey, having been reviewed of the works in which
Russian futurists and individualists criticized the regime and afterwards had
caused them to be relegated, enabled especially post-80s generation to make use
of Frankfurt thesis and to be interested in inward-oriented texts[6].
90’s generation, that set up its substructure with
music and intense anarchistic – nihilistic emphasis and thus keeping the last
resistance hope of the world alive, met with the books of 6:45 Publishing
that serviced the milestones of American counter-culture and Parantez
Publishing that published the works of important names like Charles
Bukowski together with John Fante in the line of Istanbul: Kadıköy, Beşiktaş
and Taksim where hosting the central production of culture industry in the
Republic of Turkey. Some prominent names who have told the stories of junk,
BDSM desires and the ones that couldn’t find the corpses of their friends
follows as: küçük İskender, Sibel Torunoğlu,
Mehtap Kandemir, Mehmet Kartal.
Common sense that a community[7]
built in an organic manner against military intervention is interesting and, so
to say, sickening. While we find post 70s military interventions that were
performed all over the world absurd, it is an important detail that a new
improvement should occur in people’s civilizing and liberalizing authority
perception. Some compelling illness variants that those people[8]
live when they try to make sense of everything arise from this situation.
Together
with the poets, whom we try to collect their poems, the material/product we
want to present to you is that: “visualizing” the texts that published on
fanzines or magazines of whom writers – poets that stand up to moral symbols of
these military coups and norms of capitalism and thus supporting the ways of
killing each other altogether with comfortable and creative forms.
[1] Thus several radical groups were blockaded; see how 19th century European anarchist movement, Germany barricades and radical socialist movements in İstanbul of Ottoman were interrupted.
[2] When compared with the rate of United States, it was lower in Turkey.
[3] He is generally put forward with his poems, but this effort doesn’t concern us much.
[4] Things deriving from all kinds of material mean deviation from polytheism and essence.
[5] He was living at his modest home in Burgazada and possibly had never announced that he was a homosexual.
[6]Sometimes heavily allegoric.
[7]A community that accepts all kinds of regime.
[8] People that appeal to some alternative – theoretical literary style.
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abe IV
a boorish laughter at some hotel
pooled, until it's piece got cut off
a laughter so wide that itself in
revery becomes a hunt
I
a kicking body i whiffle, my face
blew bottles these Low brows of mine:
toning the piece alright, the
clown rally fled with a heap of compass
a leather coil, every boat is to
some other so why only His blows count?
a little too big for us too
small coax the ocean's knob
with a letter i will replace from
a bottle
until the King unties my lock
an escapade to land on my collar
from wandering people
übü, it sounds from the garden
black like the picket
fence that is your neck
the passageway to all
diaresis:
preemptive prenatal
preceptory is the ellipsis
and it's proper use
"why i've seen
this before" is the relationship between with me and the dead, offended
body
a dry hook is it
exacted by the rose
to picket the flowers
in mesh?
the ducks swear by
their mouth so dry
it's all haywire.
hard ship iron thighs
fit the holster in need
vanity in scale rigged
the cloister
simply
to become cinder on
lather
forty verse of
duodenum all the fruits
in still water
canoeing is a servant
yes, but to which
Lord?
his only visitor
appeared in a yellow jacket and a flanel, spider crunch
vain-meat-is-what-the-eye-harbors,
ö-ü-e I-I-ı-ı
?
call it a foot hay
waiting onwards!
II (mid-hollow)
ashes
no way (f)ather -
that's no way to approach a father
a rolling river with
temper will not hamper the harsh bend
to the (V)Acuity
smash the rail face, a
brand new train in a riverbed grows as you sleep
-flatten the moon.
sneeze arms plentiful
III (the hollow
itself)
named the child
"a child"
he
is and happy that i am
an ache on apocalypse will land
he
wet smoke wipe calls
for mince and meat:
that crevasse in your
bosom, that's religion dad
the one you made for
all to bear
but you yourself never
wore
no
there ain't no man
with ö inbetween.
no
there are people with
a's. even
families
but no man indeed.
i know no tongue
except your path
so get on your throne
head to mouth, come on
now, tell me y there are so many a's:
'glued the paper to
the swan, planted tall in your garden'
i combed the good
looking yuppy to my hair in crimson
he has teeth
got his tight jackets
covering one of his enormous mouth
wouldn't make a move
for the phone
m(a)ma picks it up
my next of kin 'ma
grand ma' is very old
she can't climb no
slope, the stairs are all left
(and yet i fantasize)
Ekin
Metin Sözüpek
translated
by:Anıl Karol
ANKARA
KNOCKOUT / ROSA LUXEMBURG
if
the city is suburban to be forgotten; the names are a sudden outcry
while
your eyes were caressing the windows like shutting your brain against the light
your
beauty by chance; mother’s tears you haven’t seen, the reminiscence
what
black says whilst you don’t think at all a trial for white
things
that are believed are losing nonsense
and mornings from within the city
you
don’t know that you are totally a free-and-easy committee in a despicable
season
Zurich
and as the rain was splashing on half-burned photographs
Our
situation is summarized for now, for now it’s like this.
my
friends will be miserable for one or two more days in Poland, then;
the
things that he can’t tell to his shadow whilst man got silent to the sidewalks
you
can’t truly speak of the language of streets your hands and the mornings
after
those photographs we have lost touch with conscious
as
the life stands on this street like an intercity solitude in a bus
all
books nestled in your nonexistence,
and
all will be crowded as soon as possible.
buried
the revolutions into the sidewalks if you go to far
distance
as walking, it means everyone pass by same squares
afterwards;
meetings and the city which forgot us in a tick;
there
is something you said in your face which constantly protest against
when
you call out to the street,
time
has stopped like graveside remembarances.
Kerim
Akbaş
translated
by: Gökhan
Sarı
I DON’T KNOW SUCH A THING CALLED...
I don’t know such a thing called better than nothing.
I don’t know such a thing called maths is everywhere
I don’t know such a thing called international.
I don’t know such a thing called panic attack.
I don’t know such a thing called long Sunday breakfasts
I don’t know such a thing called kindred spirit
I don’t know such a thing called I killed because I loved
I don’t know such a thing called continuity
I don’t know such a thing called speed
I don’t know such a thing called cinematographic
I don’t know such a thing called store of knowledge
I don’t know such a thing called civilised
we’re approaching the new darkness, with fast dance steps
we’re approaching the grand elegant wound
with the previous and the afterwards of a shameless history book
fate technologies are connecting us and we’re peaceful with all
the communication networks
eventually you can see me with your black and blue eyes.
eventually you can understand something, this thing I say.
This being the case, nothing seems that dark to me anymore.
You’re in a weird deficiency of focus, I’m appearing before black
birds.
I don’t know such a thing called popstar solitude
I don’t know such a thing called humorous cliches
I don’t know such a thing called gifted curator
I don’t know such a thing called hygenic, photogenic and romantic
I don’t know such a thing called editorial staff
I don’t know such a thing called god give me patience
I don’t know such a thing called keep a seat for me
I don’t know such a thing called what are you wearing right now
I don’t know such a thing called recreation park for families
I don’t know such a thing called stop crying like a woman
I don’t know such a thing called Cain
I don’t know such a thing called Abel
you believe in thrillers, you’re separating me from the big part
from the big park, big trunk and the Big Tree
the city is opening before us, we’re surrendering in to the
highway
tell, explain, digest, pee, talk to the automatic token machines
tell, migrate and be freed, leave a destroying force behind
yourself
new and complicated, new and complicated, new and complicated
you’re awake and enwrapped with electric cables
they’re giving you plants, you’re receiving a blow, they’re giving
you time
I don’t know such a thing called emergency hammer
I don’t know such a thing called let me see if you can
I don’t know such a thing called lubricant gel
I don’t know such a thing called getting blood out of a stone
I don’t know such a thing called deduction
I don’t know such a thing called prospectus
I don’t know such a thing called committed and handsome
I don’t know such a thing called making history
I don’t know such a thing called full of hope
I don’t know such a thing called official journal
I don’t know such a thing called surrounded by seas on three sides
I don’t know such a thing called utopia
let’s get a job darling so that we can feed ourselves
I know that we can’t avoid trouble but I want your hands to put me
somewhere at least
will you entrust me to the turkish poets?
you can’t answer this question
something to be blamed over and over again
something wicked over and over again
written eden, harmonic eden, papers full of prophecies
something to blow up over and over again
I don’t know such a thing called 4 person passenger lift
I don’t know such a thing called raw material
I don’t know such a thing called radar
I don’t know such a thing called civil registry office
I don’t know such a thing called Yeşilcam tragedy
I don’t know such a thing called little pleasure of tipsiness
I don’t know such a thing called we’re making you quit smoking in
one week
I don’t know such a thing called scorekeeper
I don’t know such a thing called warning to stop
I don’t know such a thing called laboratory
I don’t know such a thing called worthy of attention
I don’t know such a thing called what a slut
my sweetheart who thinks that the society is not ready for him/her
if you construct a world for yourself made up of “take care”s, I’d
be pissed off
let me take a quick look around
you go join the life, I’ll be watching out
while I succumb to the enormous pain, while you’re tuning in the
radio,
stop, stop, this is the song... dıtım dırım dıtım dırım (bu nasıl
olur acaba, bulamadım)
brotherhood and stupidity and rush and
terror and apology
you say that it won’t be enough to return home, even if we add up
all
I don’t know such a thing called visions of life
I don’t know such a thing called a serum per one crisis
I don’t know such a thing called compromise is beautiful
I don’t know such a thing called necessity
I don’t know such a thing called microscope
I don’t know such a thing called big kisses
I don’t know such a thing called asexual
I don’t know such a thing called que sera sera
I don’t know such a thing called search engine
I don’t know such a thing called cradle of civilization
I don’t know such a thing called smiling makes a difference
I don’t know such a thing called graduate of management
do you know what we created
we created a greasy and sticky darkness
the importance of gravity in the world history
the importance of gravity between you and me
the importance of gravity among the passive aggressive
as if an elegant funeral cortege
and a good digestive system will save
everything everything everything
I don’t know such a thing called share of rightness
I don’t know such a thing called be there at midnight
I don’t know such a thing called romanticism of rain
I don’t know such a thing called satellite views
I don’t know such a thing called pre-ejaculation
I don’t know such a thing called ally
I don’t know such a thing called we’re out of wine
I don’t know such a thing called this is it
I don’t know such a thing called grow a moustache
I don’t know such a thing called geopolitical status
I don’t know such a thing called take care
I don’t know such a thing called are you a fagot my son
Emre
Varışlı
translated by: Tuğçe Yapıcı