MayDay Chaos in Istanbul, 01.05.2013

These photos were not published by main stream media. Istanbul witnessed hell and chaos with the help of police and media. I hope all people (dear prime minister in the first place) who participated building such cruelty to the public would see their children suffocating before their eyes…

Source: http://crypt0nymous.tumblr.com/post/49445368612/digital-analysis-of-police-terror-in-istanbul-on

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indian ink & gold paint on Papyrus by Nja Mahdaoui, 2003

(Source: melisaki)

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Nothing.

Nothing.

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Loxosceles

We are encumbered with
The burden of our body
In the shadows of death we stand still
Where’s the genuine and radiating will?
Not in any of us


So cold, so cold between my legs
A strain grows between
The garment and the old sore
Put your flesh to death
If not, how would you heal
The unhealing wound?
By lessening your wants,
Of filling yourself the most
Until your moistness decreases
You become dried out, ill and poisoned
Parched and poisoned
Retreat from this cycle of harm,
It’s another, yes another
Deceit of your body to your soul
But out of trust, hope arises

So cold, so cold between my legs
A strain grows between
The garment and the old sore
Put your flesh to death
If not how would you heal
The unhealing wound?
By lessening your wants,
Or filling yourself the most
But then your moistness decreases
You become dried out, ill and poisoned,
Parched and poisoned
Let tears wash away your guilt
Feel the shame of another
Deceit of your body to your soul
You are exausted but at least
You are still breating
Let your marrow be replenished,
This molten rock
This molten iron
My empty womb has ended up well
Your love has warmed my blood again

-

Unalterable and entrenched bond…

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Waiting…

Waiting…

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Alea iacta est

Deliver us from the contents of time.
Deliver us from the contents of our body.
Damned souls whirling ahead of our sins.


Dedication to D.

15.12

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Mer död än levande.

"Om det är så att gud inte finns, vad gör det för skillnad? Livet blir begripligt. Vilken lättnad. Döden blir ett utslocknande, en upplösning av kropp och själ. Människornas grymhet, deras ensamhet, deras rädsla, allt blir självklart, genomlyst. Det obegripliga lidandet behöver inte förklaras. Det finns ingen skapare, ingen uppehållare, ingen tanke." - Ingmar Bergman


If it is true that God does not exist, what difference does it make? Life becomes understandable. What a relief. Death becomes an extinction, a dissolution of body and soul. People’s cruelty, their loneliness, their fear, everything becomes obvious, transparent. The incomprehensible suffering needs not be explained. There is no creator, no maintainer, no thought.

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The stars are hidden by a mirrored sky.
And darkness disappears behind reflected light.
Perception is a distance in a closed-in space.
How will your body escape?

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@Anonymous "Humanity?"

None in the borders of my entity.

  • 2 years ago

The winds of Apep are upon my sail,
From neath the waves I hear the old ones sing their song.
And in the distance now, the seventh lighthouse burn,
That is where the oceans end, and that is where I yearn.

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Chaos Reigns

  Bir Tanrı varsa eğer kaos ve ölüm de O’nun sanları arasında yer alacaktır, eğer Tanrı yoksa, bu da aynı anlama gelir, o zaman kaos ve ölüm kuşaklar tükenene dek birbirlerine yeter. İstediğimiz kadar günlük yakalım, belirsizliğe ve çürümeye mahkumuz, neye taparsak tapalım kurtuluş yok, iyilerle kötülerin yazgısı aynı, azizleri de canavarları da aynı uçurum kucaklıyor, adil olma ve adaletsizlik fikri, görgü kuralları gereği bağlı kaldığımız bir sayıklamadan başka bir şey olmadı hiç. Aslında, dinsel ve ahlaki fikirlerin kaynağı insandadır, bunu insanın dışında ve evrenin yalnızca kendi için varolmasını ister, ama evren insanı bilmez, farkında değildir ve insan bu tanımazdan gelmeye teselli bulmak için uzamı tanrılarla, kendi imgesinden yarattığı tanrılarla doldurur. Böylece, içi boş gerekçelere tutunarak yaşamayı başarırız, ama bu gayet hoş ve teselli edici gerekçeler, bizler gözlerimizi - kuşatması ve tehdidi altında yaşadığımız- ölüme ve kaosa açtığımızda hiçliğe düşerler. İman, boş şeylerden biridir ve bu dünyanın doğası üzerine insanı aldatma sanatıdır.

- Albert Caraco, Le Bréviaire du Chaos

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