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a Luta da Noite

nešto o borbi u noći

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Poezija i proza

Umukni!

Ne ide ništa na silu,
ni ova prisiljena tišina,
vrišti mi se
po ko zna koji put
a ne želim ni da se čujem više.
Šta reći?

Ne podnosim kopije,
lepe se i iskradaju poput lutalica
kivni su na sve koji čutimo
žrtvovani smo sistematski
i pre nego bilo gde da krenemo.
Gde je ta borova šuma?

Raspareni uzdasi

Siguran sam!
Zbog nje sve počinje i sve nestaje.
Zbog nje postaće ovaj svet
prepun ljubavi i mira
zbog nje ako treba, krenuće novi ratovi…
I raspariće se
za života zaljubljeni beli labudovi.
Zbog nje…

Ni Kapor nije imao odgovor
zašto je u književnosti, uvek prisutno,
baš stablo “oraha”,
iseckano čakijom
imenima i srcima.
Zašto se ne spominje neko drugo drveće?

Nemam ni sam odgovor zašto
upisujem noktima baš tvoje ime
na koru srca otupelog od straha i umora
izmučenog glasovima sumnje i laži…
I šta me to štipa
za okorelog junaka u grudima
koji nehajno još jače bije
svaki put kad pomislim
na ruke tvoje i dodir blag.
Zašto zadržavam dah
pri svakoj pomisli,
kad se mozak sam ugasi
i štedi ovo malo energije
i leta, koji mi još preostaje…
I zašto mi se umire, tako cinično,
kad uz mene nisi?
Govorim sebi diši,
budalo,
diši…
Ne pomaže!

First snow

When you look at the white foggy sky while it is snowing,
snowflakes far above look like they are in darker almost gray color.
Trillions of them falling down and the highest one that eye can see,
seems like they are just floating above at one place.
These are myriad of lost souls coming back down to earth
and every single one with its own crystal shape.
Just makes you think and wonder we all look-alike
but we are all different inside,
white and grey
even black…

 

 

Tricks of Life

Finnish as many schools as you can
and get the highest degree
you’ll need a good job to pay your bills, taxes, and fee.
Get yourself a proper partner, have kids. Plenty!
World’s array needs new obedience.
Never, I say never give yourself a fucking chance to enjoy your life.

Wake up early every day and serve the greed,
listen to the news and media, forget about the music,
care about the march that’s directing your life,
forget about the dreams, they don’t fulfill You
or either fill your bank accounts.
Oh my, Shuuush! That’s a wrong thing to say.

Hate the neighbors, hate the different,
at the end hate yourself too,
you are not here for the reason,
you are here for the cause.
Social media shows it to you every minute
and reflects trough-like spam. Excrement!

Repeat this every day, eat your shitty food,
spend your time and money to get yourself
everything you see in the commercials.
You need it all. Don’t You?
Have cancer and die. In pain!
Just leave all the hopes for the better afterlife.

Nagoveštaj

Ovih dana, uskoro,
upaliću svetlo i ostaviti ga da gori
po celi dan i noć da neprekidno svetli,
ipak mi slabi vidi i pomalo već, plaši me mrak.

Ovih dana, uskoro,
potući ću se s prvim prolaznikom,
nadam se samo nekom nejakom klincu,
ipak su mi ruke nemoćne i teške.

Ovih dana, uskoro,
objaviću rat sa komšijama.
Da, tu blizu negde, da se ne putuje daleko.
Ipak su mi noge već pomalo otekle i svrbe me vene.

Ovih dana, uskoro,
priznaću svetu i sebi, i reći ću ti
da sve manje mogu živeti
bez tvog pogleda i očiju tih, magičnih…

Ovih dana, uskoro…

(slika uz dozvolu iz lične arhive)

Ljubav iz predgrađa

Želim otići iz ovog beznačajnog predgrađa.
Ničeg ovde bitnog više nema.
Ništa više čak ni ne podseća.
Iskopaću sve zatrpane trupce,
ove mrtve ljubavi,
sa njom bol i sve njene aveti.
Spaliću ih sve, u visokoj peći,
tu pored zgrade
neka se u taman dim pretvori,
neka je veterovi s jeseni odnesu u zaborav,
neka s njim nestanu i ove ptice.
Preglasne.

Ne volim ovo predgrađe.
Nigde smokve i njenih lepljivih plodova,
dva puta u godini,
da podsete na neko vreme lepše.
U polupraznom parku, smoren,
govorim musavoj deci
da slušaju roditelje,
i da krenu svojim kućama.
Ovde se više nema šta videti.
Oseća se samo sramota,
poput smoga, koju nosim u sebi,
kao beskućnik na uglu Tolstojeve,
tu mi je obešena duša u trnju,
koju sam svukao poput zmije,
i liči na poderanu kožu sa divljači
na bodljikavoj žici,
sa kojom smo se ogradili od pogubljenja
zbog svih nestalih zabranjenih snova.
I da li se to stvarno dešava?

Poželim, kao dim cigarete,
na kratko odignuti se u vis
i bezbojno nestati.
Svirepo!
Poput kučke,
koju ipak ne želiš platiti,
čak ni ne pogledati, a kamoli zapamtiti.
Hoću!
Bez pomisli ću se samo okrenuti.
Bludno.
…i zaboraviti sve!
Da sam nekad davno ovde,
nekom, bio neko
i sve!

The Atlantic

I’ve died inside too many times,
parts of me perish and disappear.
Unknowingly.
These deaths are caused
by hope I’ve made for myself;
“the Killer dreams!”
But guess I’ll never learn
I should disengage my dark thoughts
and just smile for what I have,
beautiful memory and unbroken fact
we spent short, but loveliest time in the city of Love.

But now I’m swearing like drunken sailor
and singing loudly a song for my lost
love for a mighty Sea;
yet with an empty bottle of cheap rum in my tired hand,
cursing my sunk vessel with a torn sail
and mad at myself for being destined
to stay in this doomed harbor
with аll the prostitute thoughts
placed in deep dark corners of my crazy head.

“No cause is lost,
if there is but one fool left
to fight for it!”
Raise your glass my sailing comrade
let us make a toast
to all lost and hidden treasures of the sea!
Yarrrrrrr! You Fool!
You got lost as a treasure itself!
Irreversibly!

Jesen ne haje za mene

I

Jutro je otpočela toplo, sa malo kiše
prepuno nijansi raznih boja,
za mene, s jednim tonom sive
poput one tmurne magle svake zime.

Miriše trulo voće tek popadalo na tlo,
kažu stiže jesen, s njom sunce brže zalazi,
samo meni vreme sporo ide.
Ne ide mi, ne ide…

Pas koji gleda, kroz mene vidi,
zastao je na trenutak
zbog mirisa tuge polivene po meni.
Tu i dalje sedim, nekako još više sam.

Gledam kako se praznina prazni,
samoća osamljuje, nedostajanje povećava,
mada, ne razumem kako može biti neko
još više od samoće sam.

Nestaje još jedno letnje doba
života moga.
Osećaj taj me ledi, kao da je nešto
umrlo u meni.

II

I posle zime umesto proleća
jesen ponovo stiže u moj zagrljaj.
Na vrata kuca verna druga,
drugim imenom, zove se samoća.

Ugasila je svetlost i ovog dana
uz sve neispunjene želje
zaspala je i zadnja nada.
Laku noć! Rekoh jutru. Glasno.

I reci mi stara drugo:
“Dok se svet u suncu polako budi,
dok se sve sastavlja u ljubav i ljubi,
šta to još ponovo u meni, umreti ima?

Tišina se nastavlja, odgovora nema
šum i brujanje u glavi sve je manje podnošljivo
odelo na meni, u kome se ne osećam komotan.
Ustvari to koža postaje tesna, rašiva se ožiljcima.

Tresu mi se ruke, dok izvlačim pertle,
zadnji put da pomognem sebi
i ovom bolesnom telu oduzmem gravitaciju
jedino što još ono ima. Smrt!

“Samoćo, shvati već jednom, da više ne primam goste!”

Destined distance

I.

I am getting old and can not remember the details,
but can still feel the essence.
Yes, I am a bad, very bad dog,
took it selfishly with me, last time we touched.

When I said that I do not need it, I have lied!
What I really meant was: “I need some time.”
But now, we can not talk about anything
because the time measures with miles.

Although, the messy truth is even worse
if I ever see you again I do not know what to say.
Blinded, with lips sealed because of people’s deceiving distractions.
Hopefully, touch will not disappoint all my cliches.

Thoughts entwine with a glittering silver net
and tangle with golden transparent sunlight.
Paths carved within are lost a long time ago
turning me back at the beginning of another end.

Yet another reckless thought and I will collapse,
like a broken old pillar with Jason’s statue on top
and stay there forever wrecked,
belonging nowhere like Uluru itself.

Disgusting to the ones that do not see nor understand
the pile of used rock and stone,
It is just a graveyard of weakening thoughts for them
but it can show and reveal so much more. Intensively!

Hardened man dies as same as weak one.
Maybe just the struggle is much longer and the pain is bigger.
The unpronounceable word for distinguished ones,
although just another dead body that hanged itself.

Putrefied, still rich like a child with all the world’s imagination
I can not predict anything.
Maybe sometimes the weather
because of the killing pain in my back and knee.

Presence at present will talk for itself,
the longtime blinded will see again
and deaf will hear and speak once more.
Morbidly!

A mother relentlessly tries to explain incomprehensible things.
Her child cries and laughs at the same time,
wants to run away, however, stays on the spot.
Touching every single thing yet later puts everything in its mouth.

Maybe I should shut mine now!
Since I do not speak the beautiful language of yours
and let myself get lost in those dreamy lakes,
looking at me exquisitely and confusingly.

Or, maybe I should step off before pain makes
another squat and sadistically jumps all over me,
because I can not speak out loud enough
since we are so distanced apart.

I am getting anxious more and more,
looking for excuses and stupid reasons
for countless questions in my disillusioned head
without proper answers for my lost heart.

Closer to the end yet how big should the step be,
to conquer this destined distance
between “what if…” or “…finally”?
Just one “Fear” away.

II.

Sea with distanced shore and endless grains of sand
that flee through my fingers and disappear
like running thoughts and escaping dreams.
Sun gazes and reflects rais widely scattering them around.

I could abuse some loving words and try to seduce you with something that I am not at all.
Anyway, the way I am… it is called: “Honest!”
Resembling a long time fallen, naive martyr,
and yet probably doing wrong nowadays.

Wrong because all written should be about you
but I do not know you, maybe a few shattered scraps and glitches,
discern bolides on molded evening skies.
Oh, but there are so many answers. About me. Petrifying!

And probably I will make you just run out of my life,
like every human being curious enough
to touch killing glossy fire within these sentences
that spread like the incurable disease.

Infected with all my confused arguments and stressed thoughts
wandering through the thick forest of feelings and darkened clouds of irrational and absurd,
dispersed all over my weakened body and torn soul.
Lost in translation.

Actually, there is a road up to the sky, I know.
It stretches with kindness in miles
but must I need to grow new seed and start to enjoy that kind of life?
Maybe?

I should be more positive, people say,
but within these boundaries of the world, we live in!?
I do not know,… Smile at me now, my Dear,
show the new kind of unknown to me.

…in these melded moments we are left with.

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