Look here, underneath this black marble Is buried a child who would have come to the blackboard From nature if he had one more breath of life He was killed in the class on Government
The wrong question posed by both government and nature was: "Where does Transoxiana run into?" The only correct answer from a hand raised in the last row was: "Into the heart of the rebellion of pale lowerclass children."
To suppress this death, too, his old father, secondhand peddler, Who tied around his neck a purple embroidered kerchief, wrote: I mean I had convinced him that he had his toys,
Since that day his mother, washerwoman at night, who wears A soldier's wintercoat and secretly suckles the foal of deer, dictated: Oh they put my son's hard work in his hands.
His friends wove this poem out of oleanders: Don't worry, No. 128 at the tuition-free NCO school of suicide, heart there is an older child In every child On children's holidays the whole class will send you birds not tucked into envelopes.
ironically quite a few of the leading figures who suffered a lot from the coup of 1980 are currently pro-military, and have even called for "interventions" from army and applauded whenever army did intervened for the last few years, whenever militaristic constitution - which the dictators of the coup left behind - is discussed or new rights and liberties are brought forward by the government or NGOs...
But unfortntly here n turkey the coup continues!!
Look here, underneath this black marble
Is buried a child who would have come to the blackboard
From nature if he had one more breath of life
He was killed in the class on Government
The wrong question posed by both government and nature was:
"Where does Transoxiana run into?"
The only correct answer from a hand raised in the last row was:
"Into the heart of the rebellion of pale lowerclass children."
To suppress this death, too, his old father, secondhand peddler,
Who tied around his neck a purple embroidered kerchief, wrote:
I mean I had convinced him that he had his toys,
Since that day his mother, washerwoman at night, who wears
A soldier's wintercoat and secretly suckles the foal of deer, dictated:
Oh they put my son's hard work in his hands.
His friends wove this poem out of oleanders:
Don't worry, No. 128 at the tuition-free NCO school of suicide,
heart there is an older child In every child
On children's holidays the whole class will send you birds not tucked into envelopes.
ECE AYHAN
4 weeks ago, I went to a Rock Festival in Foça and I heard Harun Güven of Mor ve Ötesi's disses againist Kenan Evren;
"Salut to the painter from Marmaris. Don't die, we have many issues with you."