FROM THE AEONS ...

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Albania, Albania
2021 - DITAR i ROCK dhe RREMUJE

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

IL BICCHIERE

Un bicchiere. Un mondo.
Un bicchiere nel mondo o un mondo in un bicchiere?! Un problema importante questo, che cerca senz'altro una soluzione. Ma come? La gente in questo mondo alla fine lavorano, faticano per un bicchiere, è li dentro trovano tutto il mondo. Un mondo tutto loro. Un mondo pieno, in un bicchiere vuoto.
Questa è la fatalità finale di questo mondo di bicchieri.
E io intero, continuo a scendere giù e più giù nelle viscere del mio bicchiere profondo.
La fine del bicchiere è senz'altro un estremo. Un estremo che mi attira dolcemente, forte delle tendenze che portano a una piena libertà mentale ( o forse in autodistruzione).
Per tanti altri questo è u crimine, ma per loro non esiste il pensiero. Non ce pensiero per il mondo libero dentro un bicchiere. Questo mondo e più certo, più perfetto!!!

Perkthyer nga Eduart "edrus" Rustemi

Monday, October 29, 2007

PUSHTIMI I PARAJSES

Ecnin e ecnin e ecnin pa pushim. Ecnin te mbuluar me pluhur por te palodhur. Kalonin neper qytete qe kohe me pare nuk do t’I linin pa ndaluar e plackitur. Por, atyre asgje s’u hynte me ne sy. Kishin nje mision, nje detyre dhe asnje lloj tundimi nuk do te mund ti lekundte.
Ata po shkonin, po drejtoheshin, po marshonin te…te pushtonin parajsen!
Per shume kohe kishin luftuar, fituar, vrare e prere e plackitur pas kryezotit te tyre. Kishin pushtuar aq e aq qytete e toka te huaja.kishin thyer e shperbere aq e aq ushtri. Por, per shume kohe te mepasme kishin mbetur pa luftra, pa beteja, si peshku pa uje. Asnje armik s’po dukej, asnje ushtri s’afrohej. I kishin mposhtur te tere!
Dhe ata per shume kohe gezuan ato qe kishin fituar me aq mund, gjak e djerse.
Pastaj I thuren himne fitoreve te tyre.
Pastaj I kenduan keto himne
Dhe pastaj, kur s’kishin c’te luftonin, c’te gezonin, dhe c’te kendonin, e pane ne te vertete gjendjen e tyre. Ata ishin ushtare pa lufte. Ishin luftetare te mundur.te mundur nga plogeshtia. Pa qellim ne fuqite e tyre.dhe kjo ishte disfata me e madhe e ushtrise famemadhe. Fitorja me e lavdishme dhe disfata me e madhe. Ishte nje gjendje acaruese midis gezimit dhe merzise, euforise dhe frikes. C’mund te benin tjeter vecse te flinin gjume?
Por kryezoti I tyre I madh e gjeti zgjidhjen. Gjeti dicka per te luftuar dhe mundur. Dicka te denje per fuqite e tyre titanike. Le te luftonin me gjumin! Le ta mposhtnin ate. Ja kjo ishte nje lufte per jete a vdekje. Madje madje pse te mos synonin per me larg?!
Le te marshonin drejt qytetit te Morfeut! Gjumi ishte I barabarte me qiellin e pamate,me lumturine e pafund! Me parajsen! Te pushtonin parajsen!
Ja, ky do te ishte qellimi, ideali, jeta, frymemarreja e tyre qe, ketej e tutje. Te pushtonin parajsen! Te gjunjezonin gjumin!
Dhe keshtu u nisen.
U bene dite, muaj e vite qe udhetonin pa pushim.lajmi I perpjekjeve te tyre kishte marre dhene. Njerezit kudo donin te dinin, donin te shihnin njerezit qe kishin aq kohe qe … qe luftonin me gjumin!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

JOLLY!!!

I’m freezing from the cold. The wind is blowing from everywhere into this damned train I took, stupid me. Yeah right, the missing rain! Oh come on, pour down you bloody rain, come on pour inside, wetting the seats, don’t ever ask if you can! The fucking train moves like a turtles!
Right to Vlora! Just a six hours’ trip, well I guess.
Interesting wagon this one! There are eight compartments, two seats each.
I am sharing the wagon with a couple of rough peasants accompanied by their rough daughter (although I must confess, I saw her with a different eye). Two ugly girls traveling with their grandma are laughing and tittering continuously. With their ugly teeth and their mole skin… they seem… just ageless. That’s what they are!
And then, there is another couple, far from being important ‘coz it’s their little girl that draws my attention. She must be only 2-3 years old. Lovely child! She reflects light from every single pore! Just like a few people do, Sharon Stone or Meg Ryan maybe, blonde hair, dark blue eyes (nobility sign), white-marble skin. I loved her immediately, for her sunny smile. What a lively kid, full of life, full of energy, full of warmth. It feels like she’s shaking this beloved gloom out of me. I just want to kneel in front of her, play with her, make her laugh unceasingly.
I want to play sitting down in front of her. I want to jump, to crush, to walk, to fall down, I want to get hurt.
Cry!
And I want everybody to jump immediately, to save me from the certain death caused by a scratch in the knee!
But…nobody gives a damn ‘bout me! No one! Well I guess they like to see me suffering!
Anyway I feeling real good in these victims’ shoes I’m wearing. Yeah it’s beating me down but I like it.
Even after all, what do I care about this wagon full of Van Gogh-eon faces and colors, peasants in red, green, pink and yellow clothes?
Oh but I have got a million problems inside my head, problems of all the existent range of troubles on earth.
I am terribly bored, stressed, hit, hurt, scratched, and gloomy!
I can’t get along any other second in this black and gray life of mine! Just like today, a gray day of clouds and rain.
Here I put the “STOP” sign!
I took the train, not any other vehicle because I just wanted to extend the time of the journey and so I took of to Vlora. It’s where I always go when I am loaded and I turn back stronger. Maybe it’s because of the climate. No! If I was to live in Vlora I would surely go… to Durres. No doubt! The farther, the better! And there must be sea too.
This fucking rain doesn’t seem to stop. As if the cold is not enough! I can’t stop pulling up the lapels and pushing down the jacket. I am freezing, but I kina like this cringing inside my jacket. The rain is becoming quieter, warmer and gentle. It is talking to me, inviting me in a sweet, melancholic waltz. Damned rain, look you made me more melancholic than I already was! Right now I miss watching cartoons. I want to watch Ken Shiro and I want to fight with other kids just like he does (this stupid guy here is starting to weep. He always does it, but he is a man, closed his eyes and swallowed up the tears).
Still laughers! Bah, if only I could belabor this wild animals. They just keep laughing in their ignorance, their banality!
Hmm! The engaged girl is really cute. Nice shapes. Plumb thighs! Boobies… a whole river of hair! Fleshy lips! She’ll be just fine with only some aesthetic treatment! Cutie! Not like those sallow, gangling, metropolitan girls with tons of make up on their face
Look at him, his welded face! Now he’s leering at me! Like I was going to eat way his wife! Oh but you don’t know a fuck about troubles! You’ve hardly seen a woman in your life! And now you’re going to be married! And so you’re going to drink form the holy chalice!
Another laugher! Miracle! The little girl is laughing. A childish laugher is equal to a newborn fairy, right Peter Pan? Ha ha ha!
I can imagine my own baby; it would be just like her. I’d love her threefold! Captious angel!
We’re still in the dark? Ahh the tunnel, right!
Last thing I saw, the baby’s dark blue eyes…
I didn’t quite realize what it was, what happened during those two minutes that we were inside the tunnel. What was that prolonged scream, a laugher or a cry? In the dark! Something happened out there! Everybody heard it, not only me! They’re all thunders-trucked! And they are looking at me, why?
Whoever cried-laughed, the little girl, perhaps? No, she’s still laughing. Or was it me? Wet eyed? Uhh, look there’s the sun!
Joker! No one had ever cried or laughed. It was it, himself! Jolly! Born from a glass of Rakia, a puff of flute, a strike of drum! Born form a man’s cry! The God of laugher! He has been laughing in the tunnel, being born from my welters. Just like Jesus gave up his life and blood, nailed on the cross to wash away people’s sins, he gives away his breath, his laugher to take off people’s entire problem.
Everything is solved with a laugher. Problems, if you want to escape them, if you want to face them, if you want to figure them out?
Hahahaha! What a stupidity! Do you have any time? Do you have enough time to solve your problems? You’ll be long dead by tomorrow, you ignorant of your time. Today! Today is your day! Today is the laugher day! LAUGH! What will you remember after life? Problems, tears, pain? You really think you can figure it out?
Hahahhahaha! Hahahhahaha! You’ll only remember the child’s laugher, on the hundredth of second, when the train will crush and you’ll no longer exist.
Laugh, laugh, just laugh and you won’t feel anything. This is Jolly’s song, the God of the man in need. The only God people should have. God!
Someone whispered in my ear something, as his fingertips stole away the heavy box full of ribbons of melancholy, which I held within my heart. He sang to me, a tune I don’t remember.
Hahaha! What are all these bullshits I think and do! Shame on me! What’s the matter with me anyway? I was behaving just like e crybaby, like a girl cheated for the very first time! Screw you up!
I am going to tear up everything that I’ve been writing! Here it is! I tore them up! I’m going to throw every piece of paper from the window.
My little bunny finds it really funny, the way I throw my papers away! Look, she’s laughing! Probably the pieces of paper look like butterflies to her.
Where the hell am I going? What the fuck am I to do in the south? It’s still winter, there’s no beach you stupid! I’ll get off the very next station and turn back home.
Till then… girls would you play cards?!
Hahahaha!


perktheu: M. Gjoncaj

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

JOLLY !!!

Po mpihem nga I ftohti. Era fryn nga te kater anet e ketij vagoni te mallkuar te ketij treni leshi qe me la mendja te merrja. Ahhh, po! Edhe shiu duhej tani! bjer o shi bjer! Ja dhe uji qe futet per qejfin e tij ne vagon e lag sediljet pa I marre leje njeriu fare!
Dhe ky mut treni qe ecen me nje ritem breshke!
Drejt vlores. Vetem. Gjashte ore rruge. Aq jane kam pershtypjen.
Vagon interesant ky ketu. Tete ndarje, nga dy kolltuke dysh secila.
Jane ulur ne to nje cift fshataresh te trashe me vajzene tyre po te trashe ma merr mendja, (megjithse e pashe me te tjera mendime, nuk e mohoj) dy vajza shume te shemtuara e te vrara nga jeta qe udhetonin me gjyshen e tyre dhe vetem qeshnin e kukuriseshin tere rruges. Me ata dhembe te trashe e me lekuren tere prenka e quka ato jane… vajza pa moshe! Vetem keshtu me vjen ti quaj.
Tre personat e tjere jane nje cift tjeter, aspak I rendesishem sepse tere vemendjen po ma terheq vajza e tyre e vogel! Me mendjen time I jap nja 2 – 3 vjece.
Femije fantastik! Rrezaton drite! Si te rrallet njerez qe rezatojne drite, te tipit Sharon Stone e Meg Ryan. Floke bjonde, sy blu te erret, (shenje fisnikerie kjo) lekura e bardhe si e mermerte ariane. Mbi te gjitha qeshja e saj diellore me bejne ta dashuroj menjehere! c'femije I levizshem! Tere jete, gjalleri, nxitje, energji, ngrohtesi!
Po me shkund me themel nga zymtesia ime e dashur! Me vjen te ulem ne gjunje, ti flas, ta guxhulis, ta bej te qeshe, qeshe pa pushim deri ne shkrirje!
Dua te luaj me te aty ulur ne toke! Te hidhem, perplasem, eci, rrezohem, vritem! Te qaj!
Dhe te tere te hidhen perpjete per te me shpetuar nga vdekja e sigurte e gervishtjes se lehte ne gju!
Por… askush nuk e can koken per mua! Askush! Mbase atyre u pelqen te shohin tek vuaj!
Po me lezeton shume kjo pozite gati martire qe po me ve perfund keto momente.
Ne fund te fundit, c’me duhet mua me kete vagon ngjyrash e fytyrash VanGhogeske, e fshatare me rroba te kuqe, jeshile, roze e te verdhe!
Me ziejne nje buqete hallesh ne koke, te tere spektrave hallore egzistente.
Tmerrsisht I merzitur, stresuar, goditur, plagosur, gerricur, zymtuar!
Nuk me shtyhej as nje sekonde me teper ne jeten time momentalisht gri ne te zeze. Me kete sfond gjithashtu gri ne te erret resh e shiu!
Dhe vendosa tabelen “STOP” !
Mora trenin, pikerisht trenin dhe jo ndonje mjet tjeter, per te zgjatur kohen e udhetimit, dhe u nisa per ne Vlore.
Aty kam shkuar gjithmone I ngarkuar e jam kthyer me forca. Mos eshte gje klima? Joo! Po te banoja ne Vlore me siguri do te shkoja ne…Durres! Pa dyshim! Sa me larg! Dhe me det!
Nuk pushoka as ky dreq shiu! S’mjafton I ftohti! Mbeta duke ngritur jaken e ulur fundin e xhupit. Po ngordh nga I ftohti. Me pelqeka kjo strukja ne xhupin tim! Edhe ky shiu rruges! Sa vjen e behet me I shtruar, I ngrohte, I sjellshem! Sikur te flet, te fton ne nje rrefim valtzi te embel, melankolik!
Ky shi I mallkuar! Ma shtoi melankoline qe me ka mberthyer e s’po me le tere keto jave! Me ka marre malli te shoh filma me kartona! Dua te shoh Ken Shiron, e te rrihem me kalamajte e lagjes si te isha ai. (ketij gomarit ketu po I rrembushen syte! Keshtu ben sa here eshte ne keto ujra po eshte burre ama, I mbylli syte dhe I gelltiti…)
Prape te qeshura? Me vjen ti ze me shqelma keto kafshe te egra! Qeshin ne ate injorancen e tyre! Banalitetin e tyre!
Hmm! Ajo e fejuara qenka e lezetshme! Paska forma te mira! Kofshe te plota! Gjoks…tere ai lume flokesh! Buze mishtore! Ta marre ne dore ndonje qender estetike e ben njeri! Yll! Jo si ato verdhacuket kockekryqtat kryeqytetase me dy kile boje ne fytyre!
Ja ky. Syrratsalduari! Filloi te shohe shtrember! Sikur do I ha gruan une!
Po ku merr vesh ti o idiot nga hallet! Ti s’ke pare femer me sy! Tani me ne fund u fejove! Do pish edhe ti nga kupa e shenjte!
Prape nje e qeshur. Mrekulli! Vajza e vogel po qesh. Nje e qeshur femije baraz me nje zane e re e sapolindur. Apo jo Piter Pan? Haha!
Nje femije te tille imagjinoj per vete! Do ta doja sa tre vetvete bashke! Engjell I prape!
Akoma ne erresire? Ahh! Tuneli! Po!
E fundit gje qe pashe ne drite ishin syte blu e erret e femijes...

nuk e morem vesh c’ishte, te pakten une nuk e kuptova c’ndodhi ato dy minuta tunel qe kaluam.e qare a e qeshur ishte ajo ulerime e tejzgjatur! Ne erresire! Aty ndodhi dicka! Se paskam degjuar vetem une! Te tere e paskan degjuar! Paskan mbetur si te shastisur! Dhe pse me shohin mua?
Kush qau-qeshi? Ndoshta vajza e vogel? Ajo edhe tani po buzeqesh.
Po une? Syte e lagur? …Uhh! Paska dale dielli…
Joker! Asnjeri nuk kishte qeshur apo qare. Ishte ai, dora vete! Jolly! I lindur nga nje gote rakie, nje fryme fyelli, nje goditje tamburi! Nga nje e qare burri! Perendia e te qeshures! Ai kishte qeshur ne tunel, lindur nga peshtjellimet e mia. Si zoti qe derdh gjakun e tij ne kryq per mekatet e te tjereve, ai jep frymen e tij, te qeshuren e tij per te rrembyer marazet e njerezve.
Gjithcka zgjidhet me nje te qeshur! Probleme? Do te ikesh nga to? Do ti perballosh? Do ti zgjidhesh?
Hahhaha! C’idiotsi! Ke kohe? Ke kohe te merresh me problemet e ti zgjidhesh? Neser vdes o injorant I kohes tende. Sot! Sot eshte dita per ty. Sot qesh! QESH! C’do te mbash mend pas jetes? Hallet? Lotet? Vuajtjen? Mendon se do ti zgjidhesh?
Hahahhahaha! Hahahhahaha! Vetem te qeshuren e femijes do te kujtosh ne te qinten e sekondes qe te mbetet per te menduar kur te perplaset treni dhe ti te mos egsistosh me.
Qesh qesh se asgje s’do ndjesh! Kjo eshte kenga e Jollit! Perendise se burrit ne nevoje! Perendise qe u duhet vertet njerzve! Perendise!
Me tha dikush dicka ne vesh ndersa me majat e dy gishtave tregues te shpirtit me vidhte tere pakon e rende me fjongo melankolie qe mbaja ne zemer. Me kendoi nje varg kenge qe s’e mbaj mend mire.
Hahaha! C’budallalleqe qe mendoj e bej! sa turp! C’me kishte zene? Si femije qaraman, si femer e tradhetuar per here te pare! Ik mor!
Ti shuaj tere c’shkruaja me pare ne copa letre. Ja! I grisa. Ti hedh me mire nga dritarja.
U shkri lepurushja e vogel qe hodha letrat une! Shih si qesh! I duken flutura!
Ku dreqin jam nisur keshtu? C’do bej poshte ne jug? Eshte dimer akoma. S’ka plazh o qyp! Do zbres ne stacionin e pare te ndaleses te kthehem ne shtepi.
Deri atehere… vajza, do bejme nje loje me letra?
Hahahaha!