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- siyasal islamcıların aslında kötü olmaması17
- arda güler10
- icardi190511
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- fethullah gülen öldü mü sorunsalı13
- şu an ihtiyacım olan şey8
- true nickli yazar8
- bir erkeğe nasıl aşık oldunuz16
- uzun entry giren erkek12
- en objektif siyasi parti9
- sokak kedilerine örgütlü saldırı başlayacağı gün16
- türkiye akp lidir akp'li kalacaktır13
- kadir mısıroğlu'na bir söz bırak14
- amında oyalanmak istiyorum12
- anın görüntüsü10
- kizil kara17
- kadir mısırlıoğlu seven mhp'li sorunsalı15
- 1 metre 55 santim balonu ağzına alan kız12
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- magicovento cesurluğu17
- aşkım kapışmak8
- erdoğan'ın mülteci sevdası19
- enes kanter'in cemaate 110 milyon dolar vermesi27
- beli açıp kot şort giymek10
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- sözlüğün en güzel kızından aldığım iltifat11
- ağızdan çiş kokusu gelmesi15
- sağlık bakanının suriyeli rakamları12
- fenerbahçe seneye sistemi yenebilecek mi13
- galatasaray'ın en son kırmızı kart gördüğü derbi10
- kılıçdaroğlu'nun kuracağı partiye isim önerileri10
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- magicovento38
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- ben 76 yaşındayım beni tahrik ediyorsun15
- avrupalılar niye mülteci istemiyor sorunsalı10
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entry'ler (37)
isimleri yunancada bir mana ifade eden yemekler yunan kökenli, türkçede anlam ifade edenler anadolu kökenlidir derim ben.türkçede dolma ve sarma kelimeleri anlamlıdır ve yemeğin ne olduğunu size anlatır ; anlatmayanlar muhtemelen cacık gibi yunanlı dostlarımızın olsa gerektir. Bu arada dolmayı da sarmayı da nefis yaparlar. mezeler ise yeme de yanında yat.
elipsoid'den kopmuş olanın allahı dini imanı olmaz dedirtgeci olmuş genelleme sözü.
(bkz: zamanın kısa tarihi)
(bkz: kara delikler ve bebek evrenler)
(bkz: zamanın kısa tarihi)
(bkz: kara delikler ve bebek evrenler)
hayatımızı yoluna bahşettiğimiz, kamburluğumuzun ve hülyalı şaşı gözlerimizin sebebi olmuş autodesk programı.
1988 tarihli cocteau twins albümü ve aynı adlı muhteşem şarkı :
Each is not my love, moan I for what
I make up hundreds so I know how to make love
There, you can have my youth, I know I have loved
Started to see him, till when I married him
To yearn admits youre outside to me
Grow up
I have seen these all my life, perhaps a lot more
And I have been so naive
All move and try he knew not
And your spangle, how it hurts, and I have feelings
To yearn admits youre outside to me
Grow up
Each is not my love, moan I for what
I make up hundreds so I know how to make love
There, you can have my youth, I know I have loved
Started to see him, till when I married him
To yearn admits youre outside to me
Grow up
I have seen these all my life, perhaps a lot more
And I have been so naive
All move and try he knew not
And your spangle, how it hurts, and I have feelings
To yearn admits youre outside to me
Grow up
büyük sylvia plath şiiri :
i have done it again.
one year in every ten
ı manage it--
a sort of walking miracle, my skin
bright as a nazi lampshade,
my right foot
a paperweight,
my face featureless, fine
jew linen.
peel off the napkin
o my enemy.
do ı terrify?--
the nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
the sour breath
will vanish in a day.
soon, soon the flesh
the grave cave ate will be
at home on me
and ı a smiling woman.
ı am only thirty.
and like the cat ı have nine times to die.
this is number three.
what a trash
to annihilate each decade.
what a million filaments.
the peanut-crunching crowd
shoves in to see
them unwrap me hand and foot--
the big strip tease.
gentlemen, ladies
these are my hands
my knees.
ı may be skin and bone, *
nevertheless, ı am the same, identical woman.
the first time it happened ı was ten.
ıt was an accident.
the second time ı meant
to last it out and not come back at all.
ı rocked shut
as a seashell.
they had to call and call
and pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
dying
ıs an art, like everything else.
ı do it exceptionally well.
ı do it so it feels like hell.
ı do it so it feels real.
ı guess you could say ı've a call.
ıt's easy enough to do it in a cell.
ıt's easy enough to do it and stay put.
ıt's the theatrical
comeback in broad day
to the same place, the same face, the same brute
amused shout:
'a miracle!'
that knocks me out.
there is a charge
for the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
for the hearing of my heart--
ıt really goes.
and there is a charge, a very large charge
for a word or a touch
or a bit of blood
or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
so, so, herr doktor.
so, herr enemy.
ı am your opus,
ı am your valuable,
the pure gold baby
that melts to a shriek.
ı turn and burn.
do not think ı underestimate your great concern.
ash, ash--
you poke and stir.
flesh, bone, there is nothing there--
a cake of soap,
a wedding ring,
a gold filling.
herr god, herr lucifer
beware
beware.
out of the ash
ı rise with my red hair
and ı eat men like air.
i have done it again.
one year in every ten
ı manage it--
a sort of walking miracle, my skin
bright as a nazi lampshade,
my right foot
a paperweight,
my face featureless, fine
jew linen.
peel off the napkin
o my enemy.
do ı terrify?--
the nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
the sour breath
will vanish in a day.
soon, soon the flesh
the grave cave ate will be
at home on me
and ı a smiling woman.
ı am only thirty.
and like the cat ı have nine times to die.
this is number three.
what a trash
to annihilate each decade.
what a million filaments.
the peanut-crunching crowd
shoves in to see
them unwrap me hand and foot--
the big strip tease.
gentlemen, ladies
these are my hands
my knees.
ı may be skin and bone, *
nevertheless, ı am the same, identical woman.
the first time it happened ı was ten.
ıt was an accident.
the second time ı meant
to last it out and not come back at all.
ı rocked shut
as a seashell.
they had to call and call
and pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
dying
ıs an art, like everything else.
ı do it exceptionally well.
ı do it so it feels like hell.
ı do it so it feels real.
ı guess you could say ı've a call.
ıt's easy enough to do it in a cell.
ıt's easy enough to do it and stay put.
ıt's the theatrical
comeback in broad day
to the same place, the same face, the same brute
amused shout:
'a miracle!'
that knocks me out.
there is a charge
for the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
for the hearing of my heart--
ıt really goes.
and there is a charge, a very large charge
for a word or a touch
or a bit of blood
or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
so, so, herr doktor.
so, herr enemy.
ı am your opus,
ı am your valuable,
the pure gold baby
that melts to a shriek.
ı turn and burn.
do not think ı underestimate your great concern.
ash, ash--
you poke and stir.
flesh, bone, there is nothing there--
a cake of soap,
a wedding ring,
a gold filling.
herr god, herr lucifer
beware
beware.
out of the ash
ı rise with my red hair
and ı eat men like air.
Tadından yenmez Yorkshire pudding'i. Sir ünvanlıdır hazret. Poetik retoriği özellikle crow 'da deha ile buluşur.
geçen gün oturuyoruz bununla ..karşıdan fatih akın'la sibel kekilli geliyor, bu elini kaldırdı şöyle bir salladı bunlara..onlarda 'lan kesin bi tanıdık bu.. ayıp olmasın' deyip yanaştılar , öpüştük hal hatır sorduk falan. bak mutlaka bekliyoruz ha dedik..sanki stüdyo varmış giricez müzik yapıcaz gibi bir hava yaratıldı ..neyse.
dünyanın en iyi birkaç şarkısından birinin adı.new model army tabi. it matters what you are :
It seems strange to write about these things now
but the time has probably come when we should
accept whatever is past and gone and never will return.
Looking back to the beginning
I see a flood of painful memories
and the bitter hurt and wounded pride that comes with our defeat
We set out with our heads held high,
so sure our ground, our righteousness,
the new Jerusalem to be built with love and guts and truth
But in the end we surrendered easily.
It's no use pretending otherwise . . .
well most of us had a little something to lose, enough to break our nerve.
Well, some of us made an easy peace and moved into the Brave New World;
it's hard for the true believers to look back now and realise
that for many of the crowd it was just the fashion, the cause of the moment,
well we if anyone should know that you can look pretty dumb
standing in last year's clothes.
And some of us, shell-shocked still, ran for shelter and do the rituals
the same old way pretending that someone out there cares
And some of us live in the modern world.
We give unto Caesar what is due
and harbour the bitterness of defeat and daydreams of revenge.
Now nothing you see out there is real,
It matters not what you believe in.
It matters less what you say but only what you are.
It matters what you are. It matters what you are.
It seems strange to write about these things now
but the time has probably come when we should
accept whatever is past and gone and never will return.
Looking back to the beginning
I see a flood of painful memories
and the bitter hurt and wounded pride that comes with our defeat
We set out with our heads held high,
so sure our ground, our righteousness,
the new Jerusalem to be built with love and guts and truth
But in the end we surrendered easily.
It's no use pretending otherwise . . .
well most of us had a little something to lose, enough to break our nerve.
Well, some of us made an easy peace and moved into the Brave New World;
it's hard for the true believers to look back now and realise
that for many of the crowd it was just the fashion, the cause of the moment,
well we if anyone should know that you can look pretty dumb
standing in last year's clothes.
And some of us, shell-shocked still, ran for shelter and do the rituals
the same old way pretending that someone out there cares
And some of us live in the modern world.
We give unto Caesar what is due
and harbour the bitterness of defeat and daydreams of revenge.
Now nothing you see out there is real,
It matters not what you believe in.
It matters less what you say but only what you are.
It matters what you are. It matters what you are.
bütün bakınızlar boş çıkınca iyi çalışmadığından şüphe ettiğimiz nesil olmuştur bunlar.sevgiler saygılar sunuyoruz o ayrı.
(bkz: spurs)