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P E Kaplan Jan 2012
Eat plenty of oatmeal.

Sauna every season,
Roll in the snow,
Naked.

Laugh, until you cry,
Cry, until you laugh.

Leave a love note,
For no reason.

Take long, lazy, walks,
Behold Mother Earth.

Hug tightly,
Tease lightly,
Kiss tenderly,
yet mightily.

Listen always,
Heart open.

Forgive quickly.

Love lavishly.

And…

Every day,

Every single day,

Pray,
Pray,
Pray.


~ PE Kaplan
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
i only started collecting a library, because, would you believe it, my local library was a pauper in rags and tatters; apologies for omitting necessary diacritic marks, the whiskey was ******* on icecubes to a shrivel.*

ernest hemingway, e.m. forster, mary shelley,
aesop, r. l. stevenson, jean-paul sartre,
jack kerouac, sylvia plath, evelyn waugh,
chekhov, cortazar, freud, virginia woolf,
philip k. ****, dostoyevsky, aleksandr solzhenitsyn,
oscar wilde, malcolm x, kafka, nabokov,
bukowski, sacher-masoch, thomas a kempis,
yevgeny zamyatin, alexandre dumas,
will self, j. r. r. tolkien, richard b. bentall,
james joyce, william burroughs, truman capote,
herman hesse, thomas mann, j. d. salinger,
nikos kazantzakis, george orwell,
philip roth, joseph roth, bulgakov, huxley,
marquis de sade, john milton, samuel beckett,
huysmans, michel de montaigne, walter benjamin,
sienkiewicz, rilke, lipton, harold norse,
alfred jarry, miguel de cervantes, von krafft-ebing,
kierkegaard, julian jaynes, bynum porter & shephred,
r. d. laing, c. g. jung, spinoza, hegel, kant, artistotle,
plato, josephus, korner, la rochefoucauld, stendhal,
nietzsche, bertrand russell, irwin edman,
faucault, anwicenna, descartes, voltaire, rousseau,
popper,  heidegger, tatarkiewicz, kolakowski,
seneca, cycero, milan kundera, g. j. warnock,
stefan zweig, the pre-socratics, julian tuwim,
ezra pound, gregory corso, ted hughes,
guiseppe gioacchino belli, dante, peshwari women,
e. e. cummings, ginsberg, will alexander, max jacob,
schwob, william blake, comte de lautreamont,
jack spicer, zbigniew herbert, frank o'hara,
richard brautigan, miroslav holub, al purdy,
tzara, ted berrigan, fady joudah, nikolai leskov,
anna kavan, jean genet, albert camus, gunter grass,
susan hill, katherine dunn, gil scott-heron,
kleist, irvine welsh, clarice lispector, hunter thompson,
machado de assisi, reymont, tolstoy, jim bradbury,
norman davies, shakespeare, balzac, dickens,
jasienica, mary fulbrook, stuart t. miller,
walter la feber, jan wimmer, terry jones & alan ereira,
kenneth clark, edward robinson, heinrich harrer,
gombrowicz, a. krawczuk, andrzej stasiuk, ivan bunin,
joseph heller, goethe, mcmurry, atkins & de paula,
bernard shaw, horace, ovid, virgil, aeschyles,
rumi, omar khayyam, humbert wolfe, e. h. bickersteth,
asnyk, witkacy, mickiewicz, slowacki, lesmian,
lechon, lep szarzynski, victor alexandrov, gogol,
william styron, krasznahorkai, robert graves,
defoe, tim burton, antoine de saint-exupery,
christiane f., salman rushdie, hazlitt, marcus aurelius,
nick hornby, emily bronte, walt whitman,
aryeh kaplan, rolf g. renner, j. p. hodin, tim hilton... etc.
judy smith Nov 2015
It's the most wonderful time of year...for a wedding? That's right! If the thought of getting hitched outside during your favorite snowflake falling time of year is intimidating, don't fret. Where there is a will there is a way. Warm your friends and family up to the idea of an outdoor winter wedding ceremony by taking these cold weather tips to heart.

Get hitched in a warmer climate


Because obviously, an outdoor winter wedding ceremony set in Southern California or Miami, is a lot more bearable than say, being stuck in the middle of an NYC blizzard. Yes, it will still be a bit cool out, but more along the lines of early fall (think 50s and low 60s), as opposed to below freezing temperatures. Destination wedding, anyone?

Warn your friends and family

There's nothing worse than showing up to a winter wedding, only to discover it's being held outside and you had no idea. "Give your guests a forewarning so they come prepared," advises lifestyle expert and event designer Jung Lee of Fete NY. If you plan on moving the party indoors after you say, "I do", having a coat check for guests is an absolute must.

Gift your girls a cozy faux fur shrug

It's the least you can do for forcing them to stand by your side in the freezing cold. Kidding! Seriously though, a chic faux fur shrug will not only keep your bridesmaids warm for photos and throughout the ceremony, but it's an item they can definitely wear again post-wedding. Plus, it looks killer in pictures! "I also love the idea ofthe bridesmaids having warm hand muffs and the groomsmen tucking a flask in their jackets," says Lee.

Crank the heat up

Like it or not, you're probably going to have to bring in some heaters. Everyone has a different tolerance for chilly weather, but after 10-15 minutes of sitting outside in the cold, most people become uncomfortable, cautions Lee. "Heaters then become a good solution. Remember that some can be loud and others don't provide warmth unless you're in close proximity to them, however."

Provide blankets, wraps or both for guests

They serve a practical need by keeping everyone warm and also make for a cute design opportunity styled up in a cozy corner, points out Los Angeles-based event planner Leslie Kaplan, owner of ENCORE. The softer and bigger the blankets, the better! Bonus points to brides and grooms that incorporate an area for guests to gather and warm up pre or post-ceremony: think a rustic fire pit or a more modern fireplace, suggests Kaplan.

Embrace warm drinks

Upon arrival, Kaplan recommends greeting your guests with a toasty beverage, such as hot chocolate or having a cider bar. Lee, on the other hand, loves Hot Toddies served in a footed glass with a cinnamon stick. "Mulled wine is another great option," she offers.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-canberra
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

They Shall Not Pass the Dumpster!

The Apocalyptic Battle of the Dumpster of Our People
Before the Gates of Kaplan College
Berkeley, Holy Saturday 2017

“Then shall he strip his sleeve and show his tats,
And say ‘this ink I had on Saturday’”
-not Henry V

In Berkeley, tumult; a protestor screams:
“They have opened the dumpster, and taken away
My Antifi poster of Cosmic Peace –
I’m going to **** someone! Death to Fascists!”

A Trumpi throws a traffic cone in love
Of the Constitution, and rallies then
The Go-Pro squaddies of the ball-capped cause
And bravely cries “To the dumpster, young heroes!”

And there upon that garbage barricade -
Oh, my children, history
  was
          not
                 made
Binary Code Mar 2015
Doing so me I weekly don't won
Ci don that cracks any way cause I'd just don't even cays!

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I play all of the chess with my exceptional poetical it'll mind



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ARMOUR AVENUE was the name of this street and door signs on empty houses read "The Silver Dollar," "Swede Annie" and the Christian names of madams such as "Myrtle" and "Jenny."
Scrap iron, rags and bottles fill the front rooms hither and yon and signs in Yiddish say Abe Kaplan & Co. are running junk shops in ***** houses of former times.
The segregated district, the Tenderloin, is here no more; the red-lights are gone; the ring of shovels handling scrap iron replaces the banging of pianos and the bawling songs of pimps.Chicago, 1915.
So I was texting with her.
How she doth linger
In my mind after all these years.
So, one might ask:
"How many Kaplan University
Spams does it take?"
Get the message:
Get smarter.
Go to college.
Even if it is some post office box
Diploma Mill, right off the
Matchbook cover.
Or read enough books, and
You, too, can be like me.
A good word, like woman to woman?
Delivering the line succinctly, just like
George Burns, wryly,
With a smile.
"I went to my doctor," she said.
"Gave me some cream for my Pud."

Simply put:
I fancy her.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2023
there is a very infamous instance of bez-osobowość
when you cross the Polish border at the airport
and get searched...
the celniks (guards) - provided you know the zunge:
will address you in a without-person(ality)
language / syntax...

how / i.e.? verb laden, verb exclusively,
averting pronoun usage...
i guess this is a counter to what....

oh i love Jordan Peterson aging and in full
schematic rearrangement of
post-modernistic mode "word salad"
buzzing... i'm buzzing too:

two nuggets of verbal beauty: a shine
on a sheen...
sheen being the already available glit of
a metal... shine being if a metal is exposed
to light and almost, "almost" reacts like
water or mirror...

- negotiating identity into adulthood...
- "terrible war in our culture"

     what war? what culture: to be exact...
cf. kołakowski's: culture and fetishes...
really? is there a culture "war" or simply...
this is not a war "war": this is a civilian fetishazation
of combat... this is passive-aggressiveness
of atomized-***-drive-derivatives
a cis-mutation parody regarding
a concept of: species...
this is one massive a-hole (forgot the bomb)
of an anti-Darwinism...
one might stretch it to the extent of calling
it liberal Darwinism...
or: on the basis of a humanistic whim
we can't harness the power of a lightning strike
nor can we harness the winds of a tornado...
but we'll sure as ****: make pretty boa-constrictive
grammar out of how we forget about trading,
capital...

identity "politics"?

- ideas of identity are narrow, hedonistic,
unsophisticated, self-serving...
- identity groups: whim-based, ****** identities,
race, ethnic...
- predicated on the notion of the immediacy
of...
- you're not a *** machine...
- anxiety hopelessness misery...
- subsidiary solution
- integrated self...

   hmm... so not the differentiating self of self?
to integrate a self "off" a self: toward the self?

consumer model?
integrating integers or integrating the collapse
of fractions?

a poem written while listening to a podcast
rather than music, which would be echo chamber
solipsism...

- play with someone else...
- invite someone else...
- there's you and now there's you that's a husband...
- responsibilities and opportunities...
- not gratifying your short term whims...

fair enough... go on herr doktor...

- immaturity vs. non-negotiation...
- learn to love someone...
- 20 years ago: self-consciousness and negative emotion
on par...
- flesh yourself out...           stretch...

huh? community? what community?
i have lived across from my neighbours for over 20
years and the closest i got to them
was when she and her daughters paraded
naked in the bedroom and later
moved on to getting another hubby...
married or "married"...
cohabitation... moved across the street
two doors down and still no ******* conversation
about: oh the weather is dreary and oh:
the garbage men forgot to take my garbage
or: oh the traffic is bad blah blah...

- definition definition definition:

the defining of the finite
the indefinitable infinite...
time is a flexibility of not counting / not measuring...

in out in out

- no action without the good...
ah... nugget! finally!

- consumerist capitalism
- idiocies of a degenerate protestant liberalism
driven by postmodernism...

well, given that when Moses spoke to unsaid X
said: ehyeh asher ehyeh...

i.e. i am: that         ↓
                        → i am ←
                                ↑

and not... i am what i am... since...
there's a clear distinction between the pronoun
'that' and 'what'...
conclusively...
by 'that' i'm implying vectors...
by 'what' i'm implying: questions...

what? well what?!

i am what:                 !
                             ?  i am  ?
                                     !

but Moses wasn't interrogated in a what whom
fashion, no: i am what i am spoke to him:
who spoke to Moses?
i am: that, i am...

  that... precisely that, i am that: who?
would god ask who of / off who of / off himself?

i still find it preposterous that this commandment
is so vague on the Islamic mind
as to not cherish the name Allah
but shout it while killing innocents:
and in his greatness the jinn swarm
to take the metaphysical procrastinators to
the hell of the 72 "virgins"...

la ilaha illa allah -

    mind you: the Maltese word for god is
borrowed from the Saracens
and is also blahllah... no: allah...
all? ah!
a relief it would seem...
how easily you could censor that word out
of a person's vocabulary and not take it in vain...
it's a Hebrew game i very much like playing
since i make-oaths of ****'s ******* ****
like a cobbler...

i still can't figure out whether to think of
culture wars as civilian fetishes of warfare or not..
culture war is a fetishised term...
war is a fetish term for poets who
are living out a rigor mortis of intellect...

now for the gates...

א                                                      ­               ע
    
i might be behind the literature,
what i know is: kametz (a)
     tzeré (e)
                  chirek (i)
cholem (o)
                       shurek (u) - pentagram...

hmm... Greek Satanism... which is not very much like
WASP Satanism that mingled neo-******
with a sour-**** vibrancy of proto-*** chimps
of the North American "sentiment"...

the revised niqqud from the niqqud
i learnt outside the realms of the internet is as above
(cf. aryeh kaplan meditation and kabbalah
samuel weiser inc. box 612
york beach, maine 03910
isbn 0-87728-616-?)

chirek became hiriq (בִ - i.e. BI - ב, bet hiriq) - i
kametz became patach kamatz gadol (בַ בָ - b'ah) - a
tzeré became segol zeire (בֶ בֵ - i.e. b'eh) - e
cholem became holam (בֹ - b'oh) - o
and...
shurek became kubutz shuruk (בֻ וּ - BAV) - u

a story of the gate:
א                                                          ­           ע
(ayin)                                                     (alef)

through which: הה Heh and Heh walked through
to find the husbands י (yod)
  and ו (vav)... oh sure: bot sisters...
Heh and Heh walked through these gate(s)...
and so became coupled into a name best associated
with "jehowa": i.e. he who hides them (vowels)
like the niqqud and the niqab...
some sort of conspiracy theory against
a society built upon monogamy...

so i met this pretty little 5ft2 36D Puerto Rican
all the way in Hawaii, or to be more specific: Kauai...
on the internet...
and since any mention of formality and inception
i'm on the phone to her every Sunday
(and i'll probably call her today:
Monday's and Tuesday's are her days off)
and we talk for an hour and i feel: ****...
only 10 minutes have passed...

but i'm still engaged with the current trend of anti-cinema...
culture war my ***...
a bit like revising that vision of St. John's...
believe you me when i say:
four horsemen... and one donkey-rider...
so that's 5 riders... the donkey rider
being obviously slower than death
since he'd be the one riding last giggling his ***
off... maybe him and the donkey would
be laughing... maybe even a talking donkey...
the vision is grotesque:
hyper-parody of Islam stealing the "saviour"...

now i know why i didn't drop any acid or ingest
any magic mushrooms...
this one time in Amsterdam me and this
Egyptian were mesmerised or rather fearful
having drank some ***** and smoked some marijuana
watching these two roomates of ours in a hostel
ingest magic mushrooms and waste the experience
on watching American Dad on t.v. in a darkened room...
Germans: so go figure... p.t.s.d. of history
or whatever you want to call it...
you'd think that ingesting psychadelics
you'd want to be in the sunshine in a forest
for some transcendental speech impediment onset...
not some dingy hostel room watching t.v., right?

case? the opposite, ingest some alcohol, fast,
then think about the hebrew alphabet...

yes, the great advent of anti-cinema...
a cultural shift...
when actors became producers...
notably? true detective... starring matthew mcconaughey
and woody harrelson...
when actors became executive producers...
perfect hell-storm to **** of cinema franchises
for the children...
from the days of: parents go out for a date
and employ a babysitter to...
kids go out and shoot up laughing gas
and eat fast food and fast **** in an alley
while the parents sit indoors and watch decent content...
maybe because actors have more time
therefore more freedom to feel into their roles
maybe because to write something good
you need to waffle for more than the space
of ~3h or like a pop song becomes prog-rock
after the 3min mark?!

in a way modern Polish "behaves", or rather:
is structured like ancient Latin
in the pronouns can be omitted to give meaning
to sentences:

ja myśle (i think) can simply be expressed
as myśle (pronoun-verb) compound of (i) think:
thinking... myśl (thought) myślenie (thinking)...

i.e. cogito ergo sum is a summary of
current Polish...
since there's no need for:
ego cogito ergo ego sum...
there's no need for i think therefore i am:
there's an anti-pronoun imperative
in sentence structure...
this without-personhood dynamic
perfectly compliments...
the anglo-protestant queer fetish for
exemplifying the plurality of it
via they...

       also...
borrowing from Greek Satanism the pan-Slavic
distinctiveness of
the following:

     щ: šč          ?: ść

deszcz: dešč: H hiding, or how the hebrew god
lingers in European psyche...
funny... that the **** Germans thought
themselves as Aryans...
given that the Polacks from the 15th century
onward compassed the arrival of an Iranian
tribe of... no... not Samaritans...
but the Sarmatians...

deszcz: rain
    dość: enough...

szczerość: ščerość: truthfulness...

i never thought the fetishes would spill out
and over into my reaching out with my tentacles
and start to... squeeze... out all the fetishes
into apple pulp sort of goo of glue sort
of averting the nasal thrill...

for a people who made ***-identity into politics
like Darwin and the lesbian faction of
existence running its course: cul de sac
existentialism of ******-identity politics
"politics": these days you have to say
"red" red... "blue" blue...
"train" train...

  mein englischleash: nein nein: niet ein leine!

what culture war?
perhaps a cultural lethargy, a cultural exhaustion?
i can see it as that... but a war?
for what? a quibble?
a ******* carrot on a stick?
a war for a donkey?
no one spotted the unearthing of the Nag Hammadi
library coinciding with the Dead Sea Scrolls,
how Isaiah died (being mutilated
at the torso, cut in half)
and how "suddenly" Christianity quivered its
last to estrange the European ontology
from the European will borrowing
from the nurture of winter in the Hyperborean
realm of melancholic rejuvenation of intellect...

the Slavs would sooner wage war against
themselves than allow
the Germanic self-flagellation of importing
cheap labour from former colonies...
these "good Christian" vessels of soullessness:
vacated by the riches from Arabia
eat ******* camel jockey types and typos
in H'arabic...

there is no culture war... there's only a cultural vacuum:
a lethargy: a great stink about this whole
myopic miasma...
with the established state of Israel and what
remains of the jewry in Europe
the fascinating dynamic of the arrival of a muslim
cohort of: sensibly minded idle citizens
that uber uber uber uber...
kamikazee delivery drivers from the mouths
of Bengal... hey presto: cheap as chips analogies...

so there's no problem with calling they it not i?
after all: it is a pronoun...
it's coming, they are?
          hmm... fetishes to the fore...
*** first: but the worst kind of ***:
non-procreative ***...
that's the worst kind of ***...
me and my old lady... i sort of told her:
it's an ancient practice borrowing from Roman times...
surrogacy of males...
i don't mind that you have a daughter
and she's not biologically mine...
guess what? that means i'll be less hung-up
if she "fails" morally...

     i clearly don't mind leaving a fractional imprint
of mine, hereditary on a passing fleece of a feeling
with an offspring...
i'm here to play a game of her throwing
three pebbles into a pool and both of us diving into
it to find them... mystique harry potter esque
the philosopher and the two women in his life:
life rediscovered... lazily tripping up over
sunlight and the predictability of daylight hours
on the tropic of cancer...

the rest of me is unpredictable like the weather
in northern europe: esp. England...

but these fetishists could have chosen a different
angle than latching onto grammar...
by the looks of it i'll gnash at bone
and grit by iron teeth (eisenzähne) with a "debilitating"
glee of: welcome, welcome, all are welcome
to the knochenernteausgraben (bone harvest
unearthing)...

even in sub-culture pops... hormones?
am i that bothered about testosterone levels in
males (like i might have some control over it)
when it comes to how stubble i can deal with
like i might sniff ******* or who's not living with grandma
like this woman is fertile, no, this woman is not fertile:
she's renting her womb to two homosexuals
vying for a proto-baby
    and this ***-first dynamic is going to go on forever
before Russia joins forces with China and India
and leaves the atomised man in
shrapnel still clinging to the crucifix-*****?
as if 2000 years of the rabbis warning us against
the advent of the self-sacrificial saviour were not
a lesson in diabolical narcissism...
it's plain as day to date...

          even with the structures intact...
christianity is unlike hinduism...
this makeshift monotheism with
polytheistic tendencies for schisms
is unlike any original European polytheism...
there's a U.B.D. / B.B.D. (use by date,
best before date) attached to it... like food...
given... well... christianity is food if you think twice
about the metaphor of the bread and the wine...
**** me... phoo! the wine has become a rancid
balsamic vinegar and the bread is mouldy!

islam on the other hand is only bound to the strength
of the dino juice... black gold...
it's strength is only temporary given
no longer needing to burn wood and instead
using gas and the mechanisms of oil propellers...
temporary ibn Saud paradise...

hardly a critique of capitalism: which is a force for
good... should the capitalist be the one
building railroads and autobahns...
giving wages, providing stable work,
pensions...
but the current capitalist is a capitalist in name alone:
chances of an honest wage for honest labour?
chances of a pension?
gig economy, the underclass of workers i'm in
already dictate the failsafe dynamic of
"contract" with: an "optional opt out"
regarding a pension scheme...
there is none...

                            some daydream akin to the ****
project circa 1950s with a home a stability
without the frenzy of hustling...
one generation old one generation bound...
some eugenics variation
and oh how the women love to call out
the men who didn't reproduce
but seeing some of the women that have
i do wonder what sort of pristine genetics are
being pressed and passed on
since i'm in an intellectual-zombie-land
from time to time... or pretty much all the time...
so i drink: to numb the pain...
so i drink: to numb the pain...
hmm... maybe that's why i drink:
to numb the intellectual dead-weight i have
surrounding me...

it's a good excuse... there is no other...
jeez... coming back to that without-persona language
the Polish border guards sometimes you:
the verb-exclusive pronoun-de-clusive
pronoun-non-inclusive of:

zdjąć - take off.. achtung achtung!
i.e. not
            zdejmij - czy czy: could you?
czy mógłbyś zdjąć twoje buty?
could you take off your shoes?

               so much for some vagary of an upheaval
in the queers for grammar in English...
it's almost very funny: but it's only just slightly
funny coming from a people not used
to how depersonalisation happens in language
when spoken off: rather than of or to...

like that saying from true detective...
am i a good person?
no... i'm not a good person...
i'm a bad bad man...
the sort of bad man that keeps the other bad men
away from knocking on your door...
i'm that sort of bad man...
the sort of bad man that keeps your
idiosyncratic selves in check
before they are no more than a statistic
in a serial killer's tally 正

                but even i have rules and sensibilities
that question when experiencing questionalibities
of: basic structures, like in language:
grammar...
       that sort of **** just makes me hit the monster
button within me...
and my ego becomes less a unit
of identity... and more akin to...
      a mouth that chews, grunts, burps...
bites... my ego is currently in the form of:

mundnichts... mouth-nothing....
        pupilleessenauge...
pupil eating eye...
                   in mich: ein legion von
alle der schrecklich gedanken!
         ha ha! wie ein teuflisch zirkus!
P E Kaplan Dec 2022
just might indicate
the need for less words,
and deeper silence,
reverence born of the pain
we carry in our psychic nap sacks
overflowing the innocent blood
of the people’s land we stole.

And now we live on the backs of the brave,
misguided, buried dead who gave, still give,
their lives in the name of freedom,
who were taught to believe by a mighty few
that war is a necessary evil.

And now we are all overcome,
by a fierce and thorny pain,
born of the Light spilling
out from the crack of a broken hallelujah.

And the tears, our tears,
flow without ceasing
an endless, watery, Our Father
because we,
we, are the tears,

falling,
falling,
falling,

from the eyes of God.

~ pe kaplan
Muzaffer Sep 2019
dişlerini siyanürle fırçalayan biri için
göçükten yüzeye kulaç atmak
kaplan köpek balığıyla güreş tutmakla
eş değer nerdeyse

hatırlıyorum da
gökyüzü
tursillenmiş kadar berrak
ve gümüş tasın etrafında ışıltılı kızlar
göz banyomu baştan çıkarıp
hüşu içinde durularken

karanlık pencerelerin
uykulu camları
kapkara bir horultu soluyordu
çıkartırken keyfini loş odalar
sondajlı hafriyatın

o saatlerde
küçük titremeler birden
atlı karınca turuna dönüştü
ayakta zor duran sarhoş binalar
sokağa petite beurre gibi
düşmeye başladığında
gördüm ambülans çığlığına karışan
yarı canlı umutların şaşkınlığını

akıl oynatan ceset eşkalleri
tanınmaz halde kimi
kimi bir çocuk
resimde gülümsemiş kimi

oysa,
düğün mevsimiydi o ara
henüz yolcu etmiştik
hayırlı bir depreme
kolu bilezik dolu gelini

dişlerini siyanürle
fırçalayan biri olarak diyorum
ölmüyor
daha beter hissediyor
canlı performansa gitar çalınca
pena gibi kırılıyor insan

tüm bunlara tanık olmak
bir ses
bir tıkırtıya
kulak kabartarak
vadesi kapalı bir canı
incitmeden çekip çıkarmak
yeni doğmuş gibi
anasının karnından

ve acı bir mutsuzluk hissi
cansız  bedenleri
tabutundan önce kucaklamak

bir vakit sonra
sarmaladık davetsizi
giydirdik sırtına moher hırka
uğurladık suçsuz gelini..

..

Deprem kayıpları anısına..
P E Kaplan Dec 2022
Didn’t know the stakes were so high until I was all in, really in,
hell, I’d not played much polka, never mind with a maverick,
a wheeler dealer, a guy who knew how and when to show his cards, could spot a patsy a mile away and I’d bet he spied one over my way.

Now don’t get me wrong, he did feel something, he liked my kind face, my willingness to please, however, swiftly it was game on, no turning back, he had to win, it’s all he knew; besides he took a gamble too, you see, played an out-of-towner, but luck be ******, he’d win no matter what.

And before long I was all in, ready to risk my heart for a true love,
so, I played long after the odds were clearly in his favor, his angle obvious, he had to win at all costs; naïve, I stayed in too long, played it straight, knew I couldn’t bluff my way out of a paper bag even if I wanted to.

Then he called it, game over, the love I played now in his pocket,
not his fault I chose to bet my heart, believed he’d play fair and care, but the deal breaker came with my plea to be recognized, respected, but, no surprise, he wished me well, no hard feelings, even said, let’s be pals.

And with the game done, the very last kitty won, a text arrived,
“you’re welcome to drop by anytime you’re in the hood.” and I’d bet my last chip, if I had one, his proposal came from his need to be considered one of the good guys even when he’d broken a heart.

~pe kaplan
P E Kaplan Dec 2020
Yesterday, again,
the pigeons gathered
on the tip of the barn roof,
kissing and cooing,
that’s right,
you heard it,
pigeons kiss,
quite well actually,
and without shame.

Perhaps this time
it was their annual
Christmas kiss,
a pigeon’s way
to show comfort,
to heal,
to forgive,
to remember
the meaning of Love.

Yes, pigeons,
on rooftops,
coo, whisper
“let’s kiss”
right now
in broad daylight,
and maybe,
just maybe,
someone will notice
and someone did.

~ PE Kaplan
P E Kaplan Mar 2021
Yep, I’m an old woman and it’s okay. I’ve accepted my fate, it’s not a choice made by me, there’s no explanation why I live into my seventies, while many others do not, as I did nothing to deserve these extra miles.

And so, with time on my hands, I’d like to get to know you and I’d like for you to know me. Maybe I can share some stuff you’ll learn sooner or later, because living long, even if one does it with one eye closed, like I did most of my life, you pick-up a few things and if you’re open to it, I'm happy to pass on some hard learned lessons to save you some time, energy, and possibly struggle.

For instance, “Is it okay to say no?”, the answer is yes, why, because it’s okay not to want to do something, especially something you hadn’t planned on and honestly, this includes saying no to family, friends, and even yourself, it is absolutely, irrefutably, **** straight okay to say, “No can do “ and if you find it hard to say no, you can say, “Let me think about it”, then, if you decide to give it a go, you can, and if not, there's always texting, email or a phone call, “Sorry, not up for it, but thanks.”

So, back to getting to know you and you, me, what I’ve found astonishing is how much in common we all have, no matter what our age difference, remember, I was young once and what's really awesome is that when we let our guard down, curiosity rushes in, it actually flows between us humans, there’s a lot to play with really, it’s astonishing how in our culture we’ve be taught to stay away from one another, like you might catch my “old germs”, or I could catch rebellious young germs from you. If only.

So, can we try, can we start a new group, a “we’reinthistogether” club, to share our stories, our concerns, our triumphs, plus, we could see how much in common we have, like our hunger for connection, our longing to belong, our desire to know our personal value and guess what, we could finally admit we care, that we are concerned for one another and if we didn’t feel like talking, we could simply sit in silence, I could skip feeling old, if you could leave your cell phone out of sight.

Of course, remember, you can always say, “Let me think about it,” however if we do get together, perhaps you'd be willing to tell me what’s important to you and I'd be happy to share some of my hard-earned life lessons, like it's okay to say, "I'm sorry."

~ pe kaplan
P E Kaplan Jun 2020
One more social media message recorded at 5:25 am,
her familiar monotone chant, a mumbled abusive taunt,
another claim for something to change, a demand to be met;
an irrational strategy out of old deep pain for the upper hand,
to shame a different outcome for her life,
to put me in my place, as a failure, a non-entity.

My daughter’s 2020 dispatch to her 1970’s mother,
to gain control in an uncontrollable world,
she’s quite unaware her old Ma is gone,
flew the coop, vamoose, worn out, toast;
she’s unaware my reckless life lived only for others is ended,
my worthiness through frantic sought for approval over.

Back in the day this kind-a, sort-a, mother,
tried **** hard to figure out how’s it done,
how to parent while trapped inside an empty,
broken, clueless, twenty-year-old,
wondered everyday how to raise up, nurture, guide,
care for my children while still a kid myself.

Watched my mother suffer, die in an abusive marriage at fifty-one,
for years I’d prayed at the top of the stairs for their fighting to stop,
they never stopped… so I learned to survive my life,
made a “me” up, no internal identity, no actual obvious self,
never took the chance to become someone, instead played the role,
figured out what others wanted, did it, did it well, did it ‘til it hurt.

Now, seventy-two, over ripe, deeply bruised by a life gambled away
bewildered no one left to blame, victim of my own doing,
living but not alive, days and nights of untethered sadness, regret,
still Something beckons, shows itself in the kindness of strangers,
who appear, care, love without agenda, a new family sent
by angels whispering you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

~ PE Kaplan
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
why is all spoken word poetry neither
rap or music as such,
always the exasperated tone of voice...
always with the rhyme...
   always the rhyme...
            who rhymes these days?
****... only 50cl of whiskey in me...
not feeling this...
    i need to start on the liter of
shveedish ***** to bulge up my "ego"...
**** me...
      is this even "poetry"?
   i thought not...
        it was never going to be
poetry - it would never succumb to
that dreaded metric of rhyme...
    i never understood
          the pseudo-acting of stand-up
spoken word with the bulging
emotions as if brimming on the tearful -
but i also can't imagine myself
diverging into
      prose - the sort that is
safe & tested -
             writing done by volume over
however pointless
intricacies -
             juxtapositions, might be
a better word...
                       eh... stand-up comedy...
i have forced, entangled
giggles, esp. the kind scripted -
  well...
with the exception of Eddy Gervais
or Lee Evans...
      perhaps i'm too stupid at having enjoyed
myself with the body mania
of Evans...
     but that's just how the Anglophone
culture works -
        go elsewhere: more cabaret
and less solo comedians...
  less monologue - less "solipsism" and more
an act...
                    cabaret...
                then again...
we do live in times when the spewing
of opinions isn't allowed
    a dialectical attack...
       not really...
              maybe on the sly...
  but never really really encompassing
   a moment of pondering - a brief pause -
given? you pause you're:
exposing a weakness -
             ? is no longer the probe
to come to a central ground -
   somehow converge and exchange
opinions...
                  being pulverized by
opinions is starting to bug me...
          pulverized by justifiable yet
somehow unjustifiable
         opinions that allow neither
a counter-thought, or a "conversion"
to a proposed, new, opinion...
      which makes dialectics impossible
between two arguing parties
without a ******* mediator -
a stage: so much less interesting
and reinvigorating that talking
to an old man on a park bench about
Rayleigh bicycles and his worries
about his grandson still being mute
aged 3...
                   or was it 4?
          never mind...
   oddly enough the Quran has one
curiosity in it...
           you know how the Jews refrain
from speaking the actual
name of their Hebraic god?
they always refer to ha shem:
but never utter the four geometric
(in Latin) letters with their
hidden A(dam) and E(ve) vowels?
yeah... it's like this literary
superstition...
   Voldermort ****...
          i'm surprised that there is
a Hebraic influence in the Quran...
where?
   oh... you know...
   there's talk of: the book...
  it's never by name,
  it's not the Torah, it's not the Bible...
what's that third one?
       ****... can't remember...
anyway... the Quran treats these book
names as a Hebrai might
treat tetragrammaton with the same reverence
as denoting it: ha shem (i.e. the name)...
oh look here...
   i love how the Hebrews hide their
vowels in diacritic -
    which is the elevated form of orthography
working from diacritical signs
applied to post-Roman Latin
alphabet...
     genius, absolutely genius...
  no wonder the high literacy rate...
that macron beneath He is an A...
           .   .
             .    would be an E (tzere -
then again, technically that's not a macron
but a kametz - a mini tau, T) -

conflicting sources through...
          ha-sefer: which means: the book...
hmm...
       on peh - from my sources
Aryeh Kaplan is folding something back...
    i'll never know -
but like all Hebrews -
  when it comes to language:
very secretive...

        it's still bewildering why
the homosexual Adams exist in both
diacritical form,
       as kametz,
  and in the fully formed lettering
    aleph & ayin...

   but as far as i am concerned,
the Quran refers to Hebrew and Christian
texts as a Hebrew refers
to the tetragrammaton -

   ha-shem: the book:
  
                                           הַ סֵפֶר
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            “You in the West Have No Idea…”

You in the West have no idea what it’s like to be ruled by peasants.

               -Mihai in Robert D. Kaplan’s Balkan Ghosts, p. 138

Oh, yes
We do
A poem is itself.

— The End —