7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 18)


Cyborgs and other forms of humanoid hybrids are currently walking among us, or are in heavily-concealed secret locations undergoing unimaginable experimentation. These include both human-animal hybrids and human-plant hybrids. Entirely without my knowledge – and obviously without ever seeking my consent – I was chosen for one of these top-secret, military-funded (by a number of the world’s leading military forces) experimental projects based on my physical characteristics and abilities, and my proven telepathic and empathic abilities. I, and my offspring, were to be experimented on and eventually ‘transformed’ into a human/machine/animal hybrids with male and female genitalia for use as weapons and sex slaves. This type of experimentation is already ongoing. There are many people who have been and are currently being victimized by this – for lack of a stronger word – particularly deranged and sadistic form of human cruelty.

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 17)


The ideas and basic strategies behind what I will describe in this section are not novel or new. They have, in fact, been in use by various people throughout human history. Trying to cause chaos and disruption – either in a personal or society-wide – to suit a particular agenda is the tried-and-true technique used by pretty much every would-be manipulator in history. What is new in our time are the techniques, which are dependent on today’s rapid advances in technology:

1. EMFs: certain frequencies are regularly used to cause disruption in a person’s mental state – such as confusion, memory-loss, a feeling of lethargy – and emotional state. A person, or persons, can be manipulated entirely through the use of invisible and inaudible frequencies, to feel any emotion the manipulator wants. This can be anger, joy, depression and euphoria. People can thereby be manipulated to act in ways that may be uncharacteristic and/or harmful to self or others. This often results in some form of punishment, censure and, more often than not, psychiatric treatment for a disorder that the person now often believes they suffer from. One particularly insidious effect of EMFs is on a person’s dreams. Through the inducement of a fugue state, the target can be made to have a ‘dream’ – often recurring – that involves either an obsessive act of violence or sex. Coupled with the ingredients in medications, foods, etc. such as excessive hormones, the target’s natural character can be seen to change over time – showing either a propensity for violence and/or a sexual preference they did not previously exhibit or feel. These uncomfortable and unfamiliar ‘feelings’ and dreams will also cause the person to either act in ways that are harmful (to self and/or others), and/or to seek psychiatric treatment.

2. Medications: many medications – for physical and psychiatric conditions – have known and deliberate side-effects that also mimic and/or amplify the effects of the EMFs regularly in use. So, a person’s mental and emotional state will be further manipulated through the use of medications coupled with EMFs.

The much-reported and ever-increasing incidences of violence in today’s society are, at least in part, to be attributed to the above techniques. The goal, as always, is control. To criminalize and eventually neuter a person’s natural self-defense mechanism: anger. Although EMFs are currently used in secret to manipulate people, the aim is to use EMFs to get to a state when they will be used legally to control and bind people – all in the name of Peace and Harmony.

Do you want to wear an electric dog collar?

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 16)


There are currently serious efforts underway to create ‘intersex’, non-gender specific, sexually-malleable and promiscuous people. In addition to the use of EMFs to manipulate peoples’ emotions and mental states, hormones are used extensively in foods, beverages, skin care products as well as household and cleaning products to create such ‘intersex’ and sexually-manipulated individuals. The focus, although not exclusively, is on youth and the youngest generations.

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 15)


Since the 1980s, when the technology was developed enough to be applied to civilian life, different frequencies of electromagnetic radiation (EMFs) have been used to manipulate, coerce, sicken, and even kill people – mostly civilians – throughout the world. Advances in technology have only made its use more efficient, widespread and, of course, deadly.

EMFs exist naturally and artificially in the world around us, but only a small band are visible and/or audible to the human senses. Other species, such as birds, are able to see a greater array of these wavelengths. Nonetheless, even someone like me who is not versed in the science behind EMFs can recognize just from everyday life that a frequency that may be invisible and inaudible can still have very real physical effects: think of the heating effect of microwaves and infrared, for instance, or the effect of ultraviolet on exposed skin. It is, therefore, not a novel idea that these and other frequencies can and do impact the mental, emotional and physical physiology of living beings. In fact, the impact and use thereof of all of the frequencies have been studied and documented by varied arms of science – not least of which is the military – for decades.

For certain people, the ability to use an invisible and inaudible frequency to manipulate, coerce, sicken and even kill others – seemingly undetected – has appeared attractive and lucrative. For this reason, EMFs are now used everywhere throughout the world. I do not refer only to the emissions from our ubiquitous electronic and electrical devices such as cell phones, TVs, household appliances, etc., but advances in technology have brought applications of EMFs into every corner of our lives: from the paints on our walls to our shoes, clothes, cleaning products, medicines, medical devices, and of course, food and beverages. Researchers and physicians have linked EMFs to a growing number of ailments and disorders that have become ever more prevalent in our lives. These include such disparate ailments as respiratory and gastrointestinal diseases, cataracts, heart disease and strokes, some cancers, autoimmune disorders, epilepsy, Alzheimer’s, insomnia, depression, and yes, even PMS! The list goes on, and there are numerous people who can and will explain it in detail.

And it all depends on the fact that these EMFs are largely invisible and inaudible to the human senses. It is the great Secret of our time.

Why am I writing this, you may ask, knowing full well that certain people will leave no stone unturned in their attempts to dismiss, denigrate, discredit, criminalize, manipulate me and what I write, and of course to cause me untold physical, mental and emotional harm? Well, the truth is that I’ve been around this block a few times in the past few years, starting with the publication of my first novel, LiGa, which inadvertently hit a few sensitive home truths. The first serious attempt on my life was not until late 2014-early 2015 when I was tortured by various EMFs for several months within my own home. I survived that attempt and countless others largely thanks to the intervention of third parties. But if there is one thing I have learned through this experience it is this: I am not the only person this has happened to, I am not the first and I will not be the last until this most insidious, deadly scourge is stopped. No one – not me, not the people I love, no one in the world – can be free until we put an end to this invisible yet very real and very deadly technology, and make sure it can never be used again.

To be continued…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 14)

NO. 14

Go, friend, go to No. 14…

It is strange on the whole

This crocodile in the back streets of Pera

Oh, just ambling, rambling

Searching for its kin

Sunning its crocodile skin

On the rooftops of Pera

Are you a-feared?

The streets are dark

The lights are dim

The streets are dark

And you may be shot at whim

But the odd croc’s a-waddling

Just plodding to find its kin

Go, friend, go to No. 14…

And in the early morning at midnight

When the blind policeman patrols

Playing sleet with the boys…

A crocodile is wandering, wondering



Recasting, sandblasting, re-constructing


Out of Pera

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 13)


The condor circles above the royal Oak, surveying the dead…

The generals are at their stations:

Taking tally, counting heads…

General L. T. Bolt

Lightning’s the name

Thunder by trade

He’s a droner…

He’ll talk your head off for the love of Jove!

General E. Coli

Is a pontificating, fungulating, defecating sort…

The rat comes out when General T. Plasmosis makes his play

Toxic, osmotic

Tick, tick, tick…

The rat ventures forward, ecstatic

Tick, tick, tick…

Flick… Flick…


The cat yawns, the rat squeals, ecstatic.

General Made-to-Measure

Nickname: the tapeworm

Insidious, insinuating, nauseating, infiltrating

Needs fumigating…

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 12)

Secrets are flies, my kin, they bring a blight of lies…

Houseflies, horseflies, mouseflies

A force of flies

Secrets are like flies, my kin:

They feed on filth

And they create filth

Secrets spawn lies

A malefaction, a defecation of flies

Secrets are like maggots, my kin:

They feed on death and putrefaction

And they are nothing but a distraction

A distraction of fruitless flies

There is never freedom

In The Land of Flies…


Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 11)

Friend or Foe? Asks the Cuckoo…

My friend Jack

Black Jack Red Jack

The Knave is back…

But is Jack my friend?

Low Jack High Jack

The Knave is in the sack…

Is Jack my foe

Or does he have my back?

The Knave of spades:

Is he a snake

Or a Peke?

Black Jack True

Is it you?

A trefoil or a gumshoe?

Red Jacks Two…

A Diamond Knave

Or a Fool for you?


Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 10)

The parrots squawked: here come the Kings and Queens, decked out in purple, blue and green…

All hail Lord Despair

The spades’ head gonzo…

He thinks he’s the King of Kings

But he’s just the King of Craps and Risotto

And his lady love

That baleful dove…

Is the strident Queen of Pain and Panto!

Here’s the Hart of Hearts

The ashen Queen

The Lady of your heart’s desire

Don’t be fooled!

All you’ll get from this old nag

Is a pile of ashes when sets your house on fire

The brassy hag is bride to the Stag

The Stag of Hope and Glory

Well that’s too bad!

Hope’s long gone, and for this pair there’s never any glory…

Meet the Master!

The Master Blaster

A.K.A. the Diamond Disaster

And his sister-dear

The pure as mud, the fad, the dud,

The dainty Queen Nirvana

The King of Clubs sits on his throne

The Throne of Lice and Dysentery

His Lady-wife sings beside him

Deaf and mute, the Queen of Cacophony


Sanem Özdural

The Founder Effect – no. 17



Tolstoy begins Anna Karenina with the line, ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’

Well, Leo, I have proven the exception to the rule.

Floors 1, 2, 4, 5, and 8 are now completely vacated of neighbors (Monarchs and milkweed going up in no. 24 tonight). And no one in this city would move into any unit here if you paid them. The whole first floor—nos. 1, 2, and 3—are knee-high in soil and lichens. I picked up beetle snails and a pair of star nosed moles to put in there when I dropped off Antonia’s lunch this morning. They seem to love it.

She offered to bring back stacks of plastic modular tank extenders (for cost and space, they’re the most efficient solution, she says). In exchange for three lobsters, Beethoven has agreed to not complain until I can install the MTEs by sometime tonight.

As well as last night went with Antonia, we’re celebrating with a little sherry. Now that I’m 17, Chimpy today is calling me Jailbait.

Jailbait, pass me the lighter.

Jailbait, you want ice?

Haven’t you already seen this Antiques Roadshow episode, Jailbait?

He’s in a much better mood than he was last night. Having the chance to cook really does soothe him, and his amuse-bouche of ceviche de pulpo is undoubtedly fine by any standard. After the stunt Beethoven pulled—Antonia was a terrific sport about it, though—and the second she left, Chimpy was ready to kill it on the spot. At one point I thought I had him talked down, but when I turned, Chimpy made a sneaky dash for the aquatank and I had no choice but to physically restrain him.

The compromise was to spare Beethoven’s life. But it did cost the price of sixteen suckers worth of a single tentacle. Just one. And not even most of it. Chimpy made a very persuasive argument that Beethoven would never learn otherwise and in the end I had little choice but to agree. After all, Chimpy is an animal, and Beethoven is an animal, but I am not. So I deferred to his judgment.

I love the ghee finish on that tangerine brine, I say.

Chimpy leers at Beethoven as he signs, Can you tell how the ginger and garlic are just rubbed on? I just rubbed them on the tentacle? Without mashing them up into the marinade?

Mmmm, I say. So that’s it. It’s really tender. And subtle.

There’s nothing in the marinade but the juice.

Amazing, I say and stab the last piece. No salt?

Just in the ghee.

It’s exquisite.

Chimpy is surely being cruel, but I cannot deny the results. Beethoven has been limited to mealtime conversations, and by permission only. And again, the lobsters bought me a day of peace and quiet about the space, which I’m already taking care of.

Things are happening outside the flat in the hallway.

Everything goes red. Just as suddenly, the red ends.

In Mrs. Boerenpummel’s apartment, it sounds like a firework explodes.

Raat! Cleanup on aisle two.

Chimpy displays agitation.

What the hell was that?!

Raat! Five-O.

A small spout of water squirts up into the air from the geoduck shelter.

There’s a hatehiss coming from the other side of the apartment wall. A slam, a snap of breaking wood, followed by a number of stomping boots. I rush to the front door.

I look through the fisheye lens of the peephole. I hear what is left of Mrs. Boerenpummel’s door collapse, then speaking in the hallway, then the jingle of chains. Eight Gurkhas, in two-by-two formation, march by. Then Mrs. Boerenpummel shuffles past, shackled neck to feet. Then a Borinqueneer wearing the bars and pineapple of a Master Gunnery Sergeant. Last, ten Legionnaires with bayonets pointing up on their backs. They all tramp away.

I turn my head around. Sorry, Chimpy.

He signs, It’s cool, really. It ain’t a thing.

The Frenchman told me there might be an orangutan in the works before long. A female.

That’s what I’m talking about, Jailbait. I love Malaysian chicks.

Well I can’t promise you anything because, remember, if she does not reciprocate your affections then the point is moot, right, Mr. McPickles?

Something brushes against the door. I look through the peephole again and see the three armed men in berets I had seen on the street before. One of them bows.

A sealed envelope falls through the mail slot, landing on my foot.

I pick it up, look at both sides. I hand it to Chimpy. He skips over to the hallway closet, cracks it open, hurriedly stuffs the envelope inside (without letting the rest of the mail avalanche out onto the floor), and pushes, presses, works the door back shut.


Chimpy sprinkles some flakes into the fish tank.

I say, The Frenchman assured me that these three are also females. I wonder if Haffenreffer will go on to be male.

What do you mean?

She’s the mature one. When a group of clownfish are all females, the mature one usually will turn into a male.

Are you serious?

Indeed I am. It’s called protogyny. A lot of fish species do it.

Chimpy lights a cigarette and passes it to me, then lights his own. And then they mate?

That’s the point, yes.

No kidding.

Hundreds of fish species are protogynous. Including wrasses.

Chimpy blows a smoke ring through another smoke ring. The wrasses are asses.

Ah, yes, well, ha, that’s good.

You think what I did to Beethoven was too harsh.

No, I don’t know.

In a couple weeks it’ll be all grown back.

Yes, I know.

And it tasted great.

It was so, so good.

Thank you. Trust me when it comes to animals. I know how to deal with them.


What is it?

I ask, Were you born in the wild?

He ashes his smoke. No I was not. Born in Brooklyn, raised in the Bronx.