Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

my first book is

I am You are Him

Kaja

Milomir

I am You are I

four books which I wrote for a year each

every ten years from spring to spring

1981-1982

1991-1992

2001-2002

2011-2012

thirty years of singing

singing of I and I of singing

my second book is Warsaw

written during one night

28-29^th December 1983

the book and the night of salvation

my third book is

No, I don’t Believe this Sentence cannot be Heard

the book about jail and thirteen years after the jail

my fourth book is

Walking for Poetry

Boy Child

Innocent Path

the book path and the book of path and four walkings

1984

1987

1988

1990

my fifth book is All Villages

walking through five hundred villages of Vojvodina

1995

my sixth book is the Rose of Wandering

the book of ten year walking

1991-2001

the book Miroslav Mandic is my seventh book

Ludwig Wittgenstein has published only one book while he was alive

a story doesn’t begin with work: work begins with a story

Julian Assange

the story about my books transformed into the poem about my book

one and only poem about all my books

one and only poem about all books

one and only book of all my books

one and only book of all books

one and only poem of all my poems

one and only poem of all poems

interweaving of all hearts into the one and only heart

curving of all brains through the curves of one and only brain of all beings

bowing to every word

pilgrimage through singing and poem

isn’t it so

isn’t it so

isn’t

it

so

that

isn’t

it

so

is

beautiful

isn’t it so that isn’t it so in the beginning is even more wonderful

like this morning’s sun

goodness of a moment in the moment of goodness

Miroslav Mandic Fucks Everybody’s Mother

beauty of a moment in all moments of beauty

Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother

forty one year of taking photos of my face once a month

One Man

drawing of leaves every day for ten years

Leaves – Tree of Life

drawing of grass every day for ten years

Grass

drawing of blue roses every day for seven years now

Blue Roses

recording of Blue Roses every day for seven years now

Blue Film

miracle of carefulness in the carefulness of walking

Four Walkings for Poetry

miracle of innocence in the innocence of walking

Rose of Wandering

obedience through rewriting

Twelve Rewrote Novels

very slow walking and resurrection of killed nations

Road to America or the New Life of Indians

one year circle through singing to great poets

Monastery of Time

three years of watching the sunsets

On the Bridge in the Dusk

system of seven arts

Poem about Eternal Art

tattoos on my skin

My Body is Body of All Bodies

house of all beings

web-site miroslavmandic.name

first time second ten year walking

Bud of Walking

beauty to goodness

goodness to beauty

days to days

through days and nights

I sympathize with all imprisoned ones

one is the book one is the work of art

word image music dance idea

starry sky

cosmic silence

beat of Your heart within mine

isn’t it so that isn’t it so is a work of art by itself

I proclaim it as a small and tender tautological work

isn’t it so

walking is a poem of motion

step by step

earth

earth

steps are singing

sky

poem of walking is in the walking of poem

poem walks in order to celebrate the walking

walking sings in order to revives the poem

walking is an airy bread

walking is heavenly vastness

we are walking

isn’t it so

golden canes are swaying

swallows are flying away

in the end of summer autumn is already here

when I think of coming days I immediately go towards them

I’m walking

even when it’s raining

even when it’s freezing

even when it’s blowing

we will be walking poem and I

love and poem and I

You and love and poem and I

walking is a poem of love

immortal walking poem of love

for a female walker everything is singing

for a male walker everything is poem

female walker is walking towards a singer – the singer sings to the female walker

the book Miroslav Mandic is Miroslav Mandic’s walking on water

walking is a light house for both Miroslav Mandic and Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic one leg

Miroslav Mandic other leg

one is Miroslav Mandic

one is the walking

one and only walking

Miroslav Mandic walking

we are walking

isn’t the change of the name Miroslav Mandic into Miroslav Mandic nonmaterial creativity

my ID

address IN YOUR HEART

nationality LIFE

state UNIVERSE

marital status HUSBAND TO ALL BEINGS

children ALL YOUNGLINGS

religion GOD

membership ALONE FOR ALL

attribute GOD’S CHILD

profession POET ARTIST WALKER

isn’t my ID as well nonmaterial creativity

sometimes nonmaterial creativity precedes material one

sometimes nonmaterial creativity is a result of material one

I love to create nonmaterial work with my body

Blue Rose in the Universe

with emotions

identifications

mentally

principals

spiritually

God

maybe everything started with brake up with male society and military

then it continued with brake up with social status and through dedication to art

through non-betrayal

through last Wittgenstein’s sentence

Tell them I’ve had a wonderful life

through decisions I made in jail

through tattoos

through enduring and withstanding

admirations

trees

through uprooting

mystical talk

through decision to transform biological births into spiritual births

through solitude

unprotectedness

failures

through awareness that in this world it’s the most beautiful to be with Miroslav Mandic

through goodness and beauty of all beings

through immortality

through 86400 moments of art in each day

through support for imprisoned ones all around the world

through support for Julian Assange and Pussy Riot

then through grass. poppies. trees. swallows

robin. horse and mare. repetition. first of June

through these words about the one to whom it’s all the same is it all or same

t

h

r

o

u

g

h

t

h

i

s

b

u

d

p

o

e

m

Miroslav Mandic is a lot more than writing

the very writing

receiving and giving

passing

the ball

of singing

until now three books have been printed

they have white covers

white books about the light of writing

they are not in bookstores

nobody wrote about them

nobody cares for them

that’s also one of their poems

none of my other books are in bookstores

that’s also another poem

the very singing

I would love to write all fourteen of planed books and for them to be printed

whitening through all colours

whitening to all colours

so that somebody would read holding them in their hands

holding my singing

singing my poem

Miroslav Mandic is holding all beings in his hands

golden fish

guts of a run over dog which I saw yesterday

sides of a ship which is sailing through the sea of immortality

sexual smell of algae and sea weeds in my bones

sex of writing is in the yearning for saving every being through sexiness

hooves of sexy horses are singing

sexiness of the path is loyal to the sexy rose

indescribable vastness of each word is spreading through vastness

childhood of writing

last swims of this year

fourteen white books

fourteen years of trance like circling in the heart of Universe

God

fourteen white books printed also like fifty six books

You

fifty six seasons of constant singing in Your heart

Bud

through the book of horses and languages hooves of language horses are galloping

language gallops through the heart of all horses

all horses neigh in all beings

all beings gallop for every being

every being in every word

every word is horse

every sentence is mare

every word in a sentence is a horse in a mare

in the galloping electronic book of Miroslav Mandic

the book that encircles You with love

love which You can spread over bread

I love more and more to read one book for a long time

there is not a lot of such books

33 blessings can be read in three minutes

one week blessings in eighteen minutes

one month blessings in eighty minutes

one season blessings in two hundred forty minutes

one year blessings in nine hundred sixty minutes

fourteen year blessings in thirteen thousand four hundred forty minutes

two hundred twenty four hours

ten days of constant twenty four hour long reading

with reading it half an hour every day it would be one year of reading

Miroslav Mandic is one year companionship with fourteen years of singing of one poem

fourteen one year books

fifty six books of fifty six seasons

one electronic book

a book for walker’s pocket

pleasure in reading while walking

on the road

walking alliance

god

to god

by god

light speeds in the slowness of each moment

an oath of love to all beings

god

through

poem

to

goddess

first fog after the summer

sometimes I imagine how blessings are flowing down the big screens

electronic image of a wonderful book

light speeds in slowness of each moment

an oath of love to all beings

god

through

poem

to

goddess

first fog after the summer

text is flowing

down the screen

through the temple of words on the road

on the first screen blessing of that day

on the second screen blessings of that week

on the third screen blessings of that month

on the fourth screen blessings of that season

on the fifth screen blessings of that year

on the sixth screen blessings of fourteen years

poem

of

light

within

the

light

of

a

screen

redemption through sameness

through

one

and

only

love

in

each

love

I would also love if Miroslav Mandic would be printed like a big book

one metre by seventeen metres for example

on big posters

four thousand three hundred forty posters on which are printed four thousand three hundred forty days of writing

fog is not retreating

I’m looking forward to going into the fog as soon as possible

today is the thirty second next to the last bowing to the book Miroslav Mandic

bowings have helped me to put myself together

to carry on with love

wondering to the wonder of writing

rejoicing the joy of writing

with all my being to all beings

with God to God

through each blessing

through beauty and goodness of 33 blessings every day

through singing wonderful poems of the immortality of poem and singing

every

word

is

beautiful

and

every

word

is

already

a poem

on its own

and

that

is

the poetics

of the book

Miroslav Mandic

which

is

on

its own

one

poem

one

and only

poem

of all

beings

one

and only

poem

of all

poems

I’m walking slowly

leisurely

softly

a brother to a snail

already sat on a bench

on the really good bench

nobody and nothing

I’m everything to everything

I’m watching trees

I’m thinking about how a big tree would feel if I could give it a massage

I’m already enjoying with it

I’m watching a bee flying over small pebbles

every being knows what it needs

I’ll lie on the bench

I took all things from my pockets and now I’m lying on the bench

I feel divine

whoever feels divine shares that feeling with everybody

my left foot is bent in my knee and the right one is placed over the back rest

through enjoying I’m setting all people free from pain

every being has indescribable amounts of goodness

how just good is this good bench

how just Your eyes are absorbing me

how the buzzing of this blue bottle fly reminds me of

all blue bottle flies that have been buzzing around my head

breeze has joined as well

one man made bread for me

that everything is unimportant unimportant knows the best

one woman made chutney for me

but also that nothing is unimportant unimportant knows the best

the nature of enjoyment is in easily bearing also unbearable amounts of enjoyment

constant love-kissing all beings actually comes from enjoyment

only through love-kissing all events in the Universe can be understood

enjoyment is gratitude for God’s miracle through which each being is created

now I lifted my left leg as well on the back rest and put my right leg on top of it

all movements are driven by pleasure

movement is created with pleasure

it’s

beautiful

nothing more beautiful than beauty

nothing more truthful than truth

nothing more free than freedom

only God

beautiful

god

is

sometimes whole life is only a struggle to be worthy of our childhood

a genius childhood is

lips of God

just before the coming-out God kisses every youngling in the womb

nobody is more a mist than the very mist

nobody is more rhythmical than rhythm

nobody is more dribbling than the very dribbling

a jiff

only God

god

good

is

simplicity of simplicity

a boy from a girl

a girl from God is

bitter millet

bitter oats

nothing is more everything than everything

nothing is more one than one

nothing is more I than the very I

only God

also when it’s raining

also when grass is growing

and language bewitches language

and volley flashes

and flesh starts singing

and singing caresses

beautiful good is

God

only

I would love if I had spent ten hours in my life

so far talking to somebody about John Coltrane

ten hours about Ives Klein…

twenty hours about Nikolai Fyodorov…

thirty hours about Meister Eckhart…

forty hours about Robert Walser…

fifty hours about Ad Reinhardt…

sixty hours about Gertrude Stein…

seventy hours about Ludwig Wittgenstein…

eighty hours about Billie Holiday…

hours and hours about beloved

whores

grass

trees

sparrows

swallows

roses

paths

nothing is more boring than wasting words

nothing is more sad than when rowdies are giving lectures

nothing is more stupid than when a teacher behaves like a rowdy

nothing is uglier than when singing turns into charming

the beauty starts hurting me when I think about somebody

Charles Mingus

Robert Johnson

Ljubomir Micic

Djordje Markovic Koder

a boy Vidan

somebody

somebody is always goodness

the very goodness

blue in purple

purple in the arrow of beauty

an archer is practicing archery through the landscapes of his or hers soul my beloved

I am a gigolo to all beings

I’m squinting and writing

to my words – God’s words

I don’t have my glasses

they will be finished by noon

new glasses with new dioptres

+4 for reading

+3,25 for computer

+2 for outside

after four years everything went up for a half dioptre

I’m going outside

it got really cold

temperature dropped for fifteen degrees Celsius

the beauty of coldness

it’s raining

I’m walking

yesterday I was swimming. today I’m in a winter coat

I took my glasses

I’m walking with new dioptre

I see clearer

world is brighter

I’m going to take my mobile phone which I drowned along

with voice recorder and camera while swimming across the Danube

repair of the voice recorder was one thousand two hundred dinars

mobile phone two thousand dinars

camera couldn’t be fixed so I bought new one

from a trouble worth three hundred euros I manage to fix it for a hundred

I’m going to visit a friend and give him the Coffees of Courage for him and his friends

I’m taking photos of street streams of rain

invisible beauty is flowing into the sewerage

I’m sitting in front of the computer with my new glasses

with them too everything is clearer and brighter

I was wet from rain. I’m tired. I’m hungry

last night I couldn’t read because I didn’t have my glasses

I’m missing the reading

yesterday I’ve been for too long in the rain

so today in the sunny and windy day I’m cold

I buttoned my shirt up to the neck

I’m warming up myself with music and nice thoughts

lakes and horses’ eyes

with boy Muja

boy Vidan

boy Edi

I’ll drink hot chocolate

I also put the warm jacket on

I’m imagining how animals are warming up their younglings with their bodies

how earth warms up beings which are living in it

how warm hands are calming

light which is warming me up through the window – you are beautiful

breast of light in this blessing are warming all beings

lizards love light and warmth a lot

few days ago they were running around so lively

straightened spine is full of warmth and light

modesty above all

I closed my eyes

I leaned over towards left shoulder

I’m gently touching myself around my lips

with my index finger over my nose

with middle finger over my chin

self-erotica

when I send blessings to Violeta and Ivana for editing and translating I will get in bed

I’ll curl up

a brother to snakes

a welcome to the autumn

a fellow traveller to the falling leaves

heart within heart

warm breasts to words

warmth is spreading

enterprises are intertwining

breasts of warm words are on Your breasts

autumn starts today

sixty second autumn of my life

I’ll drink hot instant soup

look to Your left side while I’m writing on the right one I love You

tender dribbling

shyness

I’m shy since I was a boy

little raspberry

when I wrote a moment ago shyness in the middle of the path I felt

joy

it’s such a nice word shyness

oak nut

I’m swaying with my heart

nakedness is liberating shyness from fake shyness

nakedness is bowing to the innocent shyness

one is shyness

shyness

of

a

poem

writing is love

poem

love-kisses

shyness

of

a

poem

on

the

road

I’m walking

my name is Shyness

I’m sister and brother the names of Miroslav Mandic

welcome Shyness

all the names of Miroslav Mandic are saying out aloud

Shyness is enjoying its shyness for the first time

everybody is enjoying the shyness of Shyness

everyone enjoys their own shyness

everyone enjoys the shyness of the other

the poem shyness of poem also feels nice

path also feels nice

Miroslav Mandic also feels nice with Shyness

there she is as well

Shynessess

tears

tears are tearing

tears on the road

sky on the shoulders

love poem of my friend

friendship is constant circling of a friend around a friend

plain of life

wind of innocence

priesthood in decisions

sun is bathing in a tear

road is traveling

it’s endless

it comes and goes

road is traveling and each part of the road stands still

through the paths of my childhood tears are going down my face

my beloved words you are my horses in tears

words you are the music through which the world bows to the consciousness

consciousness are my this morning’s tears

morning dream about the first love of all beings

in certain moments life is unbearably alive

the hearing of God

the very beauty and goodness

wind is drying my tears

the salt has encrusted on the wanderer’s skin

do

it

life

do

it

new tears of new life are shedding like hinds

life

is

a

poem

of

life

miracle of living in live tears

words are tearing

path is tearing

rose is tearing

crying is caressing singing

life passes in order to celebrate life

I am a tear in Your eyes my friend

tears

are

screaming

this

poem

of

yours

as

well

my

friend

here

here 

heroic time is always only the present

heroes of the past live only in the heroes of present

one is the hero

heart of freedom

I always loved to join in

through dancing

and

lead

in singing

alone

alone everybody

alone everything

a song of a fourteen year old 

with the song of a fourteen year old

going through every year of life with a song

with heroism 

with love

with the animal of life

with the basses of one and only heart

with the heart of freedom

freedom of all living creatures

freedom which throughout different times lives only in one and only being

being which was the only one to dare and sing the song of freedom

how just after one day of rain dried up grass from the drought gets green again

freedom sprouts like grass

punk grass

tears of my childhood

tears of my youth

tears in running

tears in swallows

tears are rolling through the freedom of all beings which love

tears of freedom in the tears of swallows

 dancing is joining

singing is leading

dancing is dialogue

singing is monologue

I would love to eat only raw food from today

without frying and cooking

it makes me joyful when I see people who are sun-gazing in the evening

they are standing still in the landscape

little suns

bread and tea

a man who randomly kills tithe of people is a monster

a soldier who kills thousands of people is a national hero

a man who robs a bank is a criminal and gets jailed

a banker who robs whole nations is a

dignitary and gets awarded with large sum of money

horror of civilisation

respectable citizens calmly produce and sell arms that will kill millions of people

all those killings are supported and by churches and by governments and by universities

that’s not my world

I’m joining the air

I’m singing the sun

I protect the soul

one is the soul

I caress the body

one is the body

I love words

one is the word

path

we are

dancing

butterflies are flying

little birds are flying into the hearts

indescribable beauty of paths in each leaf

life reaches each particle

come

come to me come

come to me come tenderness

come to me come pearly rain

come to me come violet greenery

come to me come my beloved Everland

come to me come I am a constant film of all-life

come to me come the same way Vuja was coming in a rain jacket

come to me come I am the one and only country

one and only nation one and only dance

come to me come to the daily bread of notions

come to me come to the tasty spreads of abstractions

come to me come to bathe in the waves of good vibrations

come to me come to Mosorin to walk across the Titel hill to Vilovo

hey fuck it to Vilovo next to the sand escarpment and swamps full of canes

then from little Vilovo to even smaller Lok

by that meadow and shadoof where I saw and

heard for the first time the whiz of a whip in the landscape

come to me come to watch how wolfs are mating

come to me come to see the boy Erstan

come to me come to walk for the freedom of Julian Assange and the Pussy Riot

come to me come to live for freedom of all imprisoned and oppressed in the world

world is again mercilessly sliding towards the great war catastrophe

people don’t want to renounce privileges and greed

people don’t want to be compassionate with those who differ

people don’t want to transform their selfish emotions

people can’t snap out of the numbness towards the beauty of the life itself

people can’t start believing in the light within themselves and surrender beloved to death

war is being overcome in ourselves

come to me come to overcome wars in ourselves

come to me come to be the backing for the harmony of all-being

come to me come so that the path wouldn’t be alone

come to me come so that nobody would be alone

come to me come so that the rose wouldn’t be alone

come to me come so that the bud of all beings grows in fragrances

as the oldest man in the world I’m saying no to the mankind

as just born God’s baby I’m saying yes to the God’s world of all beings

I’m the oldest man in the world because I’m all people that have ever lived

all people are alive in me

all yearning to resurrect in one and only love

love of just born God’s baby

no matter if they loved or hated

no matter that they were killing each other

no matter that in the end they are trying to kill the mankind itself

all of them will resurrect as just born God’s baby

hey how beautiful it is when lilac blossoms

hey how beautiful it is when linden starts smelling

hey how rotten leaves are beautiful

its sexuality confirms mine

hey how beautiful it is not to surrender to nostalgias

hey what a great wonder are big horse’s back

horse sweat on the horse back

hey how important it is to be ashamed for all my fake shyness

hey when I just think of sexual organs of all beings

hey when I recognize a beauty in the she-wolf

hey long sandy beaches

hey radiant Nietzsche’s words

hey Julian Assange

hey Pussy Riot

Julian Assange is the conscience of dying mankind

Julian Assange is the president of all people

my only president

hey ripe grapes

hey fibres of consciousness

hey thread of conscience

hey

orgasms

through

beauty

core of walnut in the whirlpool of rose

orgasms

through

beauty

hey

 fuck – Saturday again

warm

sunny

autumnally

I can’t get enough of air

I can’t wonder enough to the beauty of hips

fuck I’m the very fabric of all tendernesses

fuck I’m the very tenderness of all fabrics

fuck – Saturday again

warm

sunny

autumnally

easy poem

fuck we understand each other generally and in details

fuck I am the truth of nettles

fuck I am the smell of pepper

fuck I am the mambo of rhythms

fuck my name is Fuck

Fuck your name is beautiful Miroslav

You’re saying

fuck how beautiful is the word fuck

I’m saying

lilac-like

fuck I would never like if my joys would hurt somebody

but I also don’t accept if somebody questions the joy of all beings in me

fuck I’m only the language of tenderness

fuck tenderness of language

fuck how I would fuck you my dust

fuck this is flying

fuck – the vastness of agreeing

fuck – the dazed great-trust

fuck – the plain

tamburitzas and dulcimers

grace is very slow

may all of You be alive and healthy

fuck this Saturday as well fuck

I just thought if somebody could say hello to Radovan Hirsl and all eagles for me