Wednesday, October 11, 2006


KAY  Hay

  This story came out  from a handful of  paper - scraps,  had been left  on a seat, where I SAT on randomly  in the Domestic Airport of Sydney ,in May 2004. I have never seen the owner of the script  ,but  was certain of the gender  of the writer. I thought, doubtless she was there watching me like a lost sibling. Anyway, however, by the time, I  thought of someone had not lived up to her expectations or had  shuttered into a million pieces  .

Having all my dreams crushed  on my way to Queensland though I tried my best  to find her, midst the  chattering crowd. I lingered like someone made a fool of himself, watching a  thousand faces made out of  her wraith,  squeezing a handful of ripped papers in my hand, looking around,in shock ,unaware that I was myself  somehow a cheap  remain of the  dust of an unknown Trojan.  Struggled, then  to sort out  the wrecked history of someone of the kind, hopping to change the destinies of my race.Nevertheless , it was the time, either I had to throw the lady's remains or  walk away with them to nowhere. ...and  I chose to walk away with them.

Like the archaeologists'dealing  with the ancient papyri, it took me one year to bring the paper's content into this present  format. Therefore, hereby, I talk to her, and tell to the city." AM I BAD?"... "Who ever you are, the most wonderful  lady I ever read on. Please forgive me.I am sorry to tell your story...I am sorry, indeed, however, there is always a rouge Jonah."

Fragments Of Past

Barely, assembled the whole  scratches. I was satisfied  she had  bravely written everything about her life on  fifty seven pieces. "I sat by the skeletons of my mother, fingering her skull and her bones and her ribs and her kidneys and her eyes,and her chest. And then like a conscienceless bastard had to run with the wild wind, chasing the moon, and leaving the cursed corpse for a thousand savage soldiers .. "  1988. (Many words are Missing.)

"Shepherds had dragged  me as far as they could, then, they left me alone on the rocks of the Sad Heights, with my little daughter. I say .'Whoever you were  I am  grateful,dear dearest, dearest.."  1988
"When the airborne soldiers   dropped my dearest brother off, from the plane to die on the rocks. I saw  his shocked, bright eye glittering  like some twin stars. Soldiers had captured him while he was lying with his wounds at the battlefield. Then they  took him ruthlessly for the military  exercise; there they dropped him off to see how would he fly and hit the rocks. While he was falling down, on his way, the soldier, from the moment they threw him down,  were screaming brazenly in the sky above.  'Those are your rocks, bastard, not ours; you think so, bastard.You are dreaming.' They screamed....

Dogs, anyway later pulled his corpse into pieces and hauled him as far as they could. Then floods swept him and  dismantled his grey bones. That was the end of his short life. Then they came - the soldiers came- and took his wife and sold her to many Muslims. She was pregnant.And when  we were certain she was dead- we read some thousand verses on her empty grave. " 1986.


Aftermath, doubtless a decade  after Al- Anfal-  she w rote in her papers. "A charming boy with the  sweetest  face was stepping onward, whispering with tearing eyes and shivering lips.'Mother.' (Many  words are missing.) I felt a legendary frame of an angel’s statue, walking so sweet, and so proud that I was about to scream. 'The only man  of the family.'  I was frozen.  'Mother. For so long time  have been looking for you,'  said he.'Hold  his  face, Touch him. Kiss him,'  my friend cried. I was standing , in front of him and  shivering  like a little bitch , gaping with a blank mind. 'You can, you can,'  my friend  screamed..(Many  words are lost) 'God! Torture me not, I beg you, I beg you, Almighty.'   I was talking to myself,when he said. 'I always, kept your picture  me.'" 1999

(Many  word are missing .) "People, whom I knew, said.'He is not your son. He is not your son." Actually  everyone told me.' One must be careful these days.' (Lost words.)  O' Golden Heights, Oh, my tribe.They said. "You let a strange man lie with you."
I cried "Fuck you all." Actually I wished to say that.
 ' Listen to no one , he has your eyes, your lips, your nose... are you blind?' said my friend.. I had no one... I had no one.

Nevertheless I started learning the truth by my senses, by my heart's- fangs, by my- so long lost soul, by all my conscience's power, bringing his face back from the heart of the darkness, feeling him proudly ... reading loudly my memories on  Al-anfal
. "If the truth is true, and has to be told: He is my son, he is the truth.' I said. Thereafter,I had nothing to say except; the graveyard is not a right place for brothels.I speak this way because I have no one to talk with. " 2000.


 "Past is the poisons  of my life " ....( Missing word.)  I had been  hiding  in the heart of my carcass watching the world through the holes of  my body, and stretching out my  head like snakes, breathing  the remaining  dusts of  the God's remains . And  for having  laden  with a thousand bonds till the end of the time, murmured, in bidding my ego to set itself free.. " Creep. Creep  out."  I say.
(Many words are missing."

I was to remember the old town, I had to remember my husband , fumbling my way, and sinking further more into the hazy smokes and  horrible  smells of our perpetual  wars...running after the ghosts of  my folks, or the people whom   I had known,  through the Walk of Death. (Missing Words.) We were fools, always were digging our graves.

. "Well," I said, and bid myself. "Walk to the  end of the world." (Missing Words.)
And there I  came to a halt , where  in fear our eyes  flashed against a thousand splendid ghosts  of the  motherland -folks who.talked  with the wind, like ancient highlanders.(Local Coded- Language- I am bleeding...Loin pain hematuria syndrome)
" Hey.  There is no're part of us, " they said and in response, firmly , I  seized  my jolting heart- for having  savagely-  waited  for a miracle.
"I am  not a bitch of temples- I am not a slave," said I.
"You are crazy..."
"No I am not."
" So, you are done," they said.
"I will ran away and never come back."
"What do you call yourself. You'll forget  your closest folks."
"My closest folks  are dead."
(Missing Words.)

The  weather, I thought,  has changed early this season, (Missing Words.)  The wind erupted, and started  shaking the school  boys ,  and sweeping away the fallen leaves of  the giant  trees , which were always swinging  backward and forward on the  Pretoria Road - sending   away  winged seeds through the  old trail- exactly like my seeds.(Missing Words)  The storm then  hit  the shelters on the road sides and thundered across  the  railway and around the broken hills.( Missing Words.)  Squeaked with my  ghosts.. "Run,run, run."

Barely ceased  watching my past  through the  tearing eyes, for having our claims undone. (Missing Words)  Nevertheless.(Nevertheless is her word.) The whole world  huddled  in one row against our rights.(Our rights looked like a Petition to let us live .)" I say. 'I am a  mountain dweller. They say. "You are  at the rock's bottom." However, sometime I was keen  to restore  the  wrecked  bodies of my clan. They say nervously. "Stop making  a fool of yourself."

I  walked the wide avenue , midst lavenders fragrance, rains, and humbleness, breathing the odors of the season full of my  heart - listening to things  I lost.."Hold on, dear," say  he husband says. "Hold on." I was him indeed, wasting the  majority of my time for nothing . (Missing Words).
"That might bring you back, dear, "  says he .
"I am the real  one, not you, dear,  "  I say
(Missing Word.) I stared at the voice .
" Get out of my life."I say.
I had to run with the wind, in the silver  pouring  rain.
" Bring me back?" he demands.
(Missing Words,)
"We are strangers.."
"I know..."

Scared , but   had to wait for him, in the very autumnal evening, gazing through  the window across  the vast balcony of the old apartment to conduct my rites in behalf of everyone's grief,browsing  in particular  images were engraved on my gemstones." Gemstones are  God's favorite ACCESSOIRE ," said he.

 My husband had found  the sweetest- cruelest  female. (Missing Words.) He had  dubbed   me. "The Origin of Symmetries." The beast used to  read . (Missing Words) ...The Blake's Tiger. "What immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry.”
 (Missing Words.)
I , vaguely , whisper ." Never  let you down, man."
"Agile like Comte de Lautréamont." ...( Missing Words.)
"You are not clear, my man!" I say
" I know, I know," says he.
( Missing Words.)
( Missing Words.)
Anyway, however,  after all those years, I only  recently have known; the tiger's frame was my mine. The brutal-est  beauty - the toughest  alive  female of  the clan,  who was once fragile and weak with such  a splendid name  in the eyes of a thousand suitors.  .
" Three Symmetry rows, "  says  he.
"Did  he hunt me with  his spell?
" Stop it ...stop it ."

And then I wondered and  remembered  the truth of my beauty that had bewitched me ever since: The man was crazy and had created me out of nothing. .
"One thousand years ago," I screamed.
"Oh,  Great God, so long time he lived in me! "
"Our frames, dear,"  says he.
 "My husband," I scream." So cruel you were, how dared you to die without me.".
"You are  the cruelest, dearest, you are dead."

I heard the very stroke of my heart with his name, and in fear, looked   into the deepest  eyes.of the then time. Then , I  could dull all my elusive  senses. "Have you been  brought up for such a brutal death  ?" I say and deny my intention..


I had to sit down alone, under the quiet, cool dusk, where hazily tetrahedrons shells were discarded everywhere,and  glittering the pale burgundy light of past. I had  let an old  Greek master  engraving the names of my beloved ones on the faces of the stones. The old man said." Men forget  but stones don't."
He  used to call me . " The Lady of Stones."
 The man was a real history, ancient and tasteless without stones..
 " You are not  Greek, are you?" said he..
 "No I am not  Greek,  I am a  stone,"   said I confidently.
" It is not bad to be a stone, my lady, " said he.
" Ay," said I. " We are stones."

Everyone had his story and his humble grave on the Sad Heights. I was the only one who has not got her lot  yet..  Probably, I thought,  some reporters are anxiously waiting for my time to come, however, for certain I would  be the last one , and never shall  let those  bastards  enjoy the view of  my destructed body in the massacre's  exhibitions."
" Never ever."

It was midnight,and I was still counting the ghosts of my friends and relatives, murmuring  with the last warm tears. "Almighty, what could men of that time be doing now?"
"  Nothing, baby, nothing, nothing,"says he.

In my time, they were almost always, gathering near or around the dunghills, across the destructed creeks, or at the Mosque’s yard starring  upward unto the misty sky of the old cemetery and  the oak trees, smoking in dark or khaki coats, holding always shouldered rifles,and long beads, shuddering and smoking and eloquently talking and lying to each other .
 " How sweet those lies were, bitch,." says the ghost.
" I agree," I say.
Nevertheless, was laden with a thousand myths

Awakened,  suddenly, by a sweet sound swelled  on the wide boulevard which went on cruelly  through the dusk, and  that made her eyes swelling  with tears once more. I could  distinguish  the voices of  Blue Gum Tree Pub  frequenters from the brothels' . I was obsessed with their songs.
" I am a lonely tree gum."
"Ay," I say.
 "That is right," says he.

 I   saw ,  on the street,  glistering eyes and blushing faces of a thousand races...I thought my body was a source of sin, and   shrunk  in my skin,  feeling though the sweetness of  beauty,  and freedom. I had to cry  when  half- hearted-ly  touched  my skin, and scratched  my destructed breast, wondering if I was indeed born a true legend of  the Sad Heights- or fucked up.
The man I  saw,  was my husband's friend. "Ay,"  he  read me a poem. I thought he was genius,  in the same way we  used to be poets or bards, writing and singing like nightingales . My husband had loved him and he loved me to death. He was desperately struggling for his love,though   never dared to confess..

 He read his poem with his hoarse voice...cacophony was a proper word to describe his filthy-lyric ; the bastard had crossed Pacific  Ocean on boats only  to meet me .
"Victoria The Great,
The goddess of the magic  era,
Had earlier seized  Zeus' scepter,
And  fascinated someone, sharper than Winston;
the lord of her chivalry,
Sitting thoroughly, upon a vast history,
To fill the commodiousness of her  throne.
Almost exactly was frozen
 in  the narrow sky of the city
" It was harsh...was not close to lyrics' kind, " murmured I.

I used to sit by her   monument, and   most often asked  her the same question.
 I knew the bastard  had started the poem since he arrived in here. I screamed at him,though for a   moment I thought the Goddamn, beast,  might be my man, and  if  I had  given him my diary, he dared to trespass my privacy.
"Have I revealed my secrets," said I.
" I dare to say,  lets reserve a place for yourself  in the Genocide Museum, "said he.
" Are you insane?"  I screamed.
 " No I am  serious,"  muttered he.
" Get the hell out of here, now, bastard." I screamed.
" I'll go and never come  back," said he.
"Wait, Wait, " said I furiously ."How  dare you say that? ".
" I am crucified," he murmured.
"So what?"
"We crossed oceans, spaces and skies," said he
" Alone?" said I.
" No, with , Ely Banister Soane," said he.
(Missing Words.)
" I am tired ."
" Listen," said he.

“The storm  erupted, and trod on the city's  underbelly, beneath  the blue cloud, until brutally the  wind crushed  the city’s wings," said he.
" Crushed her chest," said I..
" Flattened the  walls of her heart," said he.
 " Stop it bastard," said I.." All were children,"
(Missing Words.)
"The wind  hit the trees, schools, windows, and our doors," said he.
"It squalled savagely and  crushed  my husband's frame," said I.
" Right," said he.
" And  he has gone," said I.
" No. He is here," said he and clasped his heart.
" Bastard."
"He was the home of a  thousand virtues, allegories, poems, and epics.- flowers of mountains, songs of mountains, our fragrant bower... yours, and  myself's  , and was  my own past,.” said he.

Bitterly, we  would remember,  how the storm raged, and  clamored  furiously with smokes, and  filthy dirt  which very soon  broke down the town  into  pieces.However suddenly I was startled...he had gone.(Missing Words.)
"Are you waiting  for the happy prince, ma'am?” a stray man, probably homeless,  mocked me kindly.(Missing Words... scratches and black symbols.)
 I was stunned, looking bitterly at his frame. It was, almost exactly,  as deformed as my  mine.

Years had to pass. Missing Words.) I  saw my husband's friend  leisurely walking alone, on George St. He was watching me.(A paragraph of a personal letter:Mother send me the binocular and a new  radio."   It was not his first time spying on me.I thought,  he was addicted to my existence, since he felt he was a man.. "Bastard, you were dead," I mumbled  furiously, however, he  was keen to cast a glimpse at my  blushing face.(Missing Words.)  The bastard  was  crying.
I waved to him cynically.

(Missing Words.)In response, he could not stay any further. Actually,  he walked all the way to the harbor, and at the end of the way ,he  sat by Darling Harbor under the Sydney's greatest bridge, weeping with me. (Missing Words.) I had been following him,  and  swearing shamelessly like whores. He  was not genuine. Missing Words." I was  not genuine.
"My dear brother,"  said he..
 "My dear brother." I replied.
We were siblings.
(Missing Words.)
" My dear brother.," said he again, and put his hand on my shoulder. Then, he  tried to hold my waist. We looked at each other and felt  we were just defeated twins (Missing Words- Calligraphic scratches-were drown around Koranic verses , and talisman symbols  against evil eyes.)
We have, in fact  got the same  wrecked frames. There we  wept  for someone... someone we  had not had at all. .

He tripped over his own feet. ( Missing Words.) Stumbled on the grass. ( Missing Words.) With a face  bleakly settled  upon my lonely eyes. His was dwindling.  I could see  the death shivering oddly in his eyes. ( Missing Words.)Then, all of  a sudden he jerked me violently.(Missing Word.) We could not describe our pains.(Missing Word.) He left me alone on the grass,and  walked  away by his own. ( Missing Words.) I dumped him...I ditched him, and struggled to keep my heart safe. I held it in my hand.

He was still striding on the unpaved  pathway, dragging his shocking frame and walking awkwardly towards  the  train station. I kept watching  him until he vanished  behind the fence, within a crowd s come down the train station's trail. His last words echoed in my head steadily . " Catch up latter, " Probably to catch my attention. But  I growled. " Never, bastard.".... (Missing Words.)
"You got no one."

We were not mature. He failed, anyway to face me confidently ,and I was a wild beast . He could not stop himself crumbling in my presence.  When he knew I was serious, he covered his face and fled,ripping  the crowd like bulls.(Missing Word.) He was shredded, however, he had a name...I ran after him and called him by his name."Bastard...bastard."
But  had already vanished.

All in all,  he did not  let my horrible voice crush his mind . He tried first to find a doorway to hide his face, escaping my cruel voice, like he used to. He was deprived of his skills for having had  always his rites  on papers, with  his ancient tools. . Actually, he was deprived of everything in jails, or at battlefield during his everlasting disputes with everyone, except me.

I screamed savagely.( Missing Words.) I Lingered outrageously to humiliate him in my way.  "THE WORD, that is  only you have got !They are prostitutes' tools . You are an extinct beast ; writer, ha!!! Hell, son of a bitch, son of a  bitch," ...(Missing Words.)I was swearing."Hey, Mother." said my daughter. "You are swearing."I had then a this feeling ; I was myself a bitch.(Missing Words)....Days passes well . He  he  thought I was a perfect woman ... "I said I am a bitch."
" Terrible woman, I am a terrible woman, mean and cruel, "I murmur some times.

When I lingered .( Missing Words.), My eyes rested on the northern bay-where the lights were falling on the mountainous  waves. Actually, was  somehow lulled by the hazy shadow of myself , which  had been  left behind  on the waste heights - standing up,  like a dumb  statue on the  storm's route,   doing nothing like  martyrs.
 "I won't be , never be," I murmured..

Conversing frequently withe the queen. (Missing Words.) I came back and  rooted  to my spot under the queen’s feet. (Missing Word.) Queen was a statue. (Missing Words) He converses rarely, most often  is silent.His  tongue is bitter.I thought he was silent because he  became a hypocrite. I read from his poem.
When I stare unto thee,
further up to thy grey face ,
 a kin to me..( Missing Words.)
My bleeding wounds
 May bother thy  conscience.” .
(Missing Words) Sydney.(Missing Words.) George St. (Missing Words.)Stunned by the magnificent architecture  of St.Mary's Cathedral---Hyde Park-- strange .(Missing Words.)  Statue of Queen Victoria ; Queen Victoria the Great.(Missing Words) I was little, but was  part of the cold material
of the statue. I had my thread back unto The Sad Heights.
Thy dark , disguised chivalry,
Had left  mysteries,
And foot prints, in my heart,
Thy Majesty.

 I read  his poem. It was written for me.I said. "For God's sake who the hell sits there?"
The poem came to the end. I enjoyed the view of the streets. My  manager used to make more   cracks in my head. Nevertheless, someday I say to him , face to face."Fuck you, Mao.".... he will say "You are fired."  doubtless, by then I will have been older than he expected. (Missing words)
“ Anyway, this tidy front mask holds no sign of my past. Even  have washed out a small pox scar on my face."...(Missing Words) Arrogantly, some times I ask myself about my failure."  Had  not it been my weakness?" Then remember, and read " The crazy map has been scratched on my skin under this pink underwear."...(Missing Words.) However anyway , when I read I feel  his fingers running   inside my body, and  scratching my deepest region.

I knew his poem was his savage impression on  my body- as always was sensing my sighs, and  my beating  heart. ( Missing Words.) while then  was  listening to the pattering crowd vanishing in the mouth of the city.  Ant like then steadily  a thousand waves were pushing forward to  disappear in the in the city;s labyrinth, and  secret chambers.. All races were fixing  eyes of  blank heads - forward on none- being , dismissing  the material of his road- mates  ,  except for the  little sense of hatred ,which might be washed  out someday by the ocean..-
(Missing Words.)

I am certain, we are on a right track. ( Missing Words.) I , behave as if ,am writing a letter to my dead parents, and many -many  of -next of kin-s   whom someday I had. (Missing Words.)  We are on the edge of the world, where cold rays of the old ocean rise up  everyday, under the Ode to Goddess of Sun,( Missing Words.) And  there with  some  dull feeling  the fresh winds  touch the most extreme- blueness of the sky , our common ancestors’ dome , beyond the stars of the continent which  is deeply living in the depth of  Pacific’s heart and mine.
"But it time to escape the past."

The End
  Autumn 2004


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