Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

fog

how is now Nadezhda Tolokonnikova who was sent to the penal colony

in the Mordovia region about five hundred kilometres away from Moscow

how is now Maria Alyokhina who was sent to the penal colony

in the Perm region about eleven hundred kilometres away from Moscow

how is now Julian Assange imprisoned in the embassy of Ecuador in London

how is now anybody who is innocent and imprisoned and nobody even knows of them

when I started writing Miroslav Mandic Nadezhda was fourteen years old

today Nadezhda is the Hymn of Freedom of All Beings

I wouldn’t like to go to prison ever again

even though I don’t know how would I live if I wasn’t in prison

I discovered and experienced freedom in prison

freedom for the other and freedom for all beings

red roses were calmly and freely blossoming in the prison yard

little birds were flying into the prison over the walls

freedom with which I became vegetarian

freedom to renounce the property

workers from municipal park and landscape

maintenance are digging the wholes for new seedlings

if I wasn’t in prison I wouldn’t have discovered that I’m guilty

for everything in this world and that everything in this world depends on me

accepting the guilt and responsibility leads to the freedom which is already within me

through that freedom I started loving the other

through that freedom I love all beings

what terrifies is that almost nothing can be done from outside in this world

what terrifies is that many horrible things were removed by even more horrible violence

that a lot of good things are based on legal violence and indifference

I’m watching the grass and it lights me up

calm surface of the lake lights me up

pebbles light me up

Christ’s resurrection lights me up

it lights me up because it resurrects every being

verified through improvability

never and towards nobody revenge

always and for everybody resurrection

I’m walking peacefully and slowly for the liberation of Nadezhda Maria and Julian

I’m walking peacefully and slowly through

the woods for the liberation of innocently imprisoned ones

for the liberation of animals from people and braking off all the chains they are tied with

for liberation of love in Your heart that will set all beings free

drops of rain are glittering and sparkling in the grass

lizards go away snails come out

there is no solidarity among people

there is no solidarity of a man for other species

man commits huge crimes towards a man but crimes man

commits towards animals plants earth water air… is many times bigger

I believe that man is a species which was created

to stop killing so that with it killing itself disappears as well

human rights are nothingness if there are no rights for all beings

goodness wants to live in each being

beauty wants to live in each being

if I deny that to the goodness goodness won’t live within me

if I deny that to the beauty beauty won’t live within me

all beings live within me and within all beings

everything I do to all beings within me

at the same time I do that to all beings in the world as well

smile through which I’m smiling at the moment to

all beings within me is spreading through all beings in the world

sometimes all beings within me are helping all beings in the world

sometimes all beings in the world are helping all beings within me

if all beings within me are good all beings in the world are good as well

if all beings within me are beautiful all beings in the world are beautiful as well

isn’t it so

god

is

both

poem

and

singing

if I’m singing I’m a poem

if I’m a poem I’m singing

through walking I’m uniting poem and singing

through

poem

and

singing

i’m

god

myself

God is

I am

God love-kisses

I love-kiss

You are affirming. You are joining

isn’t it so

it’s afternoon. fog is gone. sun started to shine. the dusk will soon come

in youth one instinctively lives in now and

that’s why it’s all remembering in the old age

old age means living mentally and that’s why

now is not remembered but immediately turned into eternity

I’m somebody to somebody

I’m coming back. calm. tranquil. I’m somebody I miss to myself

every year in each Miroslav Mandic book on October 26^th in twentieth blessing

I write Robert Walser. this year in the eighth book here is Robert Walser himself

I will finish with myself when I’m done with poetry. good night

I am the loneliest man within

there’s nothing from being an actor… but if God gives I’ll be a great poet

nobody has right to treat me as if they know me

writing was for him some kind of dying, while

writing he had certain feeling of dying

yes, only the travel within oneself is important

I was in the midst of my complete

failure and I had to do it justice

I became ill in certain respect from futile efforts

I think that a poet has to plunge his head from

time to time into the darkness, into the mysterious

one day I realised that going with a pen right away makes

me nervous, so in order to calm myself down I started using the

method of a pencil, which is probably a longer way, additional effort.

since that effort looked in certain way like pleasure, it seemed to me that I

will get well that way. among other things it seemed to me that with a pencil

I could work more dreamily, more peacefully, cleverly, it seemed to me that

such way of working is turning for me into some kind of happiness

you are happy because modesty is happiness on its own

if poets like Robert Walser could be counted among

our foremost intellects, there wouldn’t be any war

Hermann Hesse

as a matter of fact my love, every ineffectiveness is almost like some sort of blessing

a beautiful and interesting book is important to me until it’s

published. each printed book is a grave for a poet, isn’t it so

at that time I undertook several stupid tries to take my

own life. but I wasn’t able even to make a good noose

as a matter of fact I should be completely on my own in this world

from my unblessed littleness

there have always been conspiracies in my surrounding to turn down scums like me

Robert Walser

being withdrawn is the only weapon I have

never even in the times of greatest poverty have I allowed the society to buy me

it’s always better to personally do good, then to receive it

without love man is lost

failure has forced many into the grave too soon

isn’t in some respect a successful writer also a killer

Zurichers didn’t notice my poems. at that time they were all enthusiastically

sighing after Hesse. they allowed me to roll down the slope of his success

all of those warm-hearted people, who believe they can control

and criticise me, are Hesse’s admirers. they don’t trust me. there is only

either-or for them. either you write like Hesse, or you’re a looser. that’s

how extremely they are judging me. they don’t have confidence

in my work. that’s the reason I ended up in a sanatorium

yes, failure is a dangerous, angry snake. it constantly

strives to supress what’s real and original in an artist

laughing and being silent, that’s the best one can do

a man should be able to endure some stench as well

a deceased, who was lying on the pile of snow, was a poet, delighted with

winter and cheerful play of snowflakes – a real poet, who was like a child

searching for the world of peace, purity and love

if these lines didn’t offend You, then it makes Robert Walser happy

soon

when it’s not better it’s worse

that’s wonderful

wonderful and true

two weeks ago on Saturday morning I fell

in the bath tub and hurt my left side ribs a lot

time heals all wounds

the pain is persisting

it’s Saturday again

going. I should get going

with poem poem

with poem truth

with poem freedom

I’m walking and it really hurts

are my ribs broken

until now it wasn’t hurting me during the day and while

walking only during the night and while lying on the side

for the first time today it hurts me while walking

pain

interferes. depresses. dejects

I’m not really a good Saturday stray dog or maybe exactly because

I’m not really a good Saturday stray dog I am a real Saturday stray dog

warm wind is blowing

I’m trying to surrender to the warm wind as much as possible

Saturday stray dog is leaving the streets in the

centre of the city and is going towards the Chukarichka Padina

one stray dog is alone and that’s why I’m joining him around the train station

when I feel that I’m too alone stray dogs within me always join me

now that I see that the stray dog is alone I’m joining him

since I’m talking about my rib pains it’s nice to mention the pains of others

pains of people

hey people in pain

pains of animals

hey animals in pain

pains of plants

hey plants in pain

pains of minerals

hey minerals in pain

pains of minorities

hey minorities in pain

I’m grateful to the blessings because it’s better with

pains and blessings than with pains without blessings

when I saw this good sixteen year old I thought to myself

how I always loved teddy boys but much more good boys

teddy boys are rare but good boys are even more so

while I was thinking about teddies and good boys I saw

a little path and I felt it’s salvific for me that I felt for a little path

little path transforms teddy boys into the good boys and good ones into God

stumbling block

a generation of Gunter Deming’s Stolperstein

bowing to the each name of Stolperstein

Stolperstein and stumbling block are one rock

every day is a stumbling block

my beloved Gypsies

if I look at the face of a Gypsy I see myself

I see the face of God

poem

is

a

gypsy

god’s

name

is

gypsy

I cannot be if I’m not a Gypsy

Gypsy is a stumbling block

a

poem

is

a

stumbling

block

conciseness block

orgasm

only

a

gypsy

only

god

a Gypsy on his motor sidecar has rubbed his hands and handed a box of

cigarettes to a Gypsy woman next to him to light him a cigarette. she did that

green light came on. she is putting the cigarette in his mouth. they are off to work

sometimes a poem is nothing else but admitting

that it’s impossible to sing what should be sung of

sometimes life is nothing else but admitting that it’s impossible to live the very life

after admitting comes singing

after admitting comes living

poem

is

singing

life lives

cold wind on my face

here is the smile through which all my troubles are transformed at this moment into joy

nothing is as dangerous and horrifying as being Gypsy and poem

nothing is as good and salvific as being Gypsy and poem

I’m a Gypsy to You my friend

I’m a Gypsy woman to You my girl friend

road

freedom

love

poem

God

Gypsy

I am a Gypsy woman to a Gypsy man

a Gypsy man does not exist without a Gypsy woman

a Gypsy woman without a Gypsy man

Gypsy man is love

Gypsy woman is love of love

like a consciousness about consciousness

the way after consciousness comes consciousness about consciousness

and after consciousness about consciousness comes consciousness the same way

also after love comes love of love and after love of love comes love

one two one

I You I

that’s what Gypsy woman knows and that’s what Gypsy woman is

living of love

living for love

black-metallic blue raven’s feathers

the way I cannot be if I’m not a Gypsy man

the same way I cannot be a Gypsy man if I’m not a Gypsy woman

pathing to pathing

tambouring to tambouring

surrendering to surrendering

unprotectedness to unprotectedness

like earth surrenders to water

water to air

air to light

light to light

God’s

all words of mine you are my Gypsy woman

all numbers of mine you are my Gypsy woman

all beings of mine you are my Gypsy woman

three Gypsy women existed in my life. an old Gypsy woman in my

childhood in Novi Sad. young Gypsy woman with a small child in her lap

across the Vladicin Dvor in Novi Sad. young Gypsy woman with a small child in

her arms on the corner of the street above Djeram market in Belgrade. all three of them

were beggars

love forever for all three of them

work for oneself and one’s family turns into begging. begging into the work for the other

I’m walking by the lake and thoughts are wandering with a Gypsy woman

Gypsy woman is bathing a Gypsy man within

her. Gypsy woman is bathed with the Gypsy name

I’m thinking of how art has saved me in my youth from human life. how it

took me with itself and like a Gypsy woman lead me into the all-life and life of all beings

a poem is my Gypsy man

art is my Gypsy woman

walking is Gypsy man and Gypsy woman together within me on the road

people without a state

sweetest people

people of the very life

people of winds

heavenly people on the earth

conscious in still unawaken conscious of other people

people of soles and hands

barefooted

people of children

children’s people

ever since I was a kid I was hearing ugliest things about them

nothing of what I’ve been hearing have I experienced

all those ugly stories about them are the stories about those who are telling them

people who have states have army and they produce weapons and death

Gypsies are unarmed

beauty

Gypsies are white flowers of water lilies

goodness

Gypsies are heavenly birds which are circling the shape of rose

Gypsies

not ideas but in things by William Carlos Williams

Gypsies – always when the music bangs

Gypsies – daily bread from being thrown

Gypsies – supernatural bread from being rejected

fuck yourselves fucked and beloved ones

those who fuck don’t kill

Gypsies are miners of life

every day in everybody’s everyday they are mining huge quantities of life for the very life

they are mining huge quantities of life and ore through the very life

Gypsies are green soil blue sky and red wheel

which is constantly moving in the heart of each free being

not a single great empire is worthy of the gypsy empire of the life itself

Gypsies are like God. if they didn’t exist they should be invented

Gypsies are strangers among people and they remind all

other people they are strangers among animals plants and minerals

having is a great passion. not having is even greater

Gypsies

not having anything and being everything

I have never listened to a song for so many

times as this one which I’m constantly playing

I cannot listen to it enough

when the bass kicks in after the whistling

constant swinging

Amy’s voice which is rearing and plunging

back vocals

tenderness which is swirling

cuddliness which is plating

Jewish-Gypsy-like

ends of the same walking stick

drum road

rhythm of yearning

voice of longing

hart on the road

heart on the palm

heart in language

drum-road my beloved

invisible cannot be seen in anything as clear as in the most wonderful nobody sees

hey splendour You’re Gypsy-like

hey simplicity You’re Gypsy-like

life is a constant concert of life

life is a constant jumping into the arms of life

life is a constant transformation of selfishness into the unselfishness of the life itself

I’m moving so that there won’t be and hurting

I’m moving so that there won’t be and self-hurting

life and death are constantly intertwining in one and only life

in one and only love

we’ll meet again we’ll meet

Gypsy-like

only loving

a fly is flying through the air in the First House of All Being

drum-road Gypsy-like drum-road

through paths of beauty

drum-road

tap tap tap

dub dub dub

drum drum drum

by soles

through drumming

through roading

gypsy-like – through a poem

language is guarded by a poem

life is enriched by a poem

spirit is cherished by a poem

through poem heart is singing that everyone is important like everything

through poem mind is whispering that everyone gives their life for everything

through poem God is rejoicing to Himself

tap tap tap

dub dub dub

drum drum drum

Gypsies shouldn’t become like those others

but those others should become like Gypsies

leaves are falling

from last spring to nowadays a tree was feeding

the leaves. from now on fallen leaves will be feeding the tree

poem is the most gypsy like with Gypsies

as I’m getting older poem is being more and more important

as the Planet is getting older poem is being more and more important

poem is the other

I’m crossing the street it’s a poem

two sparrows in the grass are a poem

a man with the mobile phone in one and folded newspaper in the other hand is a poem

drum steps rhythm rose I no longer know what poem is

I love to sing through one word

through dawning

through every word

through the dawning one

a boy has close his eyes and he’s trying to walk

I also closed my eyes. lavender and rosemary are smelling

first I’ve met Robert. a year ago. I was going through

the shopping centre in Padina. we’ve met by the shop of healthy

food. he asked me to buy him something. he picked salty snacks

when I moved to Padina half a year later I was seeing him more often

and that’s how it all begun with those gorgeous God’s chiod

tap tap tap

dub dub dub

drum drum drum

Saturday. a stray dog’s day. last day of writing about Gypsies

I’m rejoicing the Saturday and the dog and wandering and writing and Gypsies

I’m rejoicing the writing about the kids which I’m meeting almost every day on the Padina

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Muja Jasmina…

I’m meeting them in passing while they’re begging or collecting old papers

dear Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo Jasmina…

I am a poet and my encounters with you are my poems

that’s how You Robert are my poem

that’s how You Edi are my poem

that’s how You Ersan are my poem

that’s how You Sebastian are my poem

that’s how You Kemal are my poem

that’s how You Kemana are my poem

that’s how You Vidan are my poem

that’s how You Mujo are my poem

that’s how You Jasmina are my poem

whenever I see You my heart starts trembling and singing Your poem

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo

Jasmina… within You apart from Your heart Your poem is beating too

I wish You to live and sing it every day

I wish You to sing it in health beauty and goodness whole life

I wish You to fulfil everything God expects from You and what

he made You for exactly what You are – one and only unique in the world

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo Jasmina…

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana

Vidan Mujo Jasmina… rejoice every day

make one poem of Yours out of every day

I wish You to look up into the sky every day

I wish You to feel the love for earth You’re standing on every day

I wish You to feel the children delight while drinking water every day

I wish You to enjoy every bite You make

and be compassionate with those who don’t have

I wish You to feel joy in whole of Your body in each breath You take

I wish You to discover Your treasure that is hidden waiting for You

be the best healthiest and richest man in the world and show everybody

what that means to be the best healthiest and richest man in the world

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo Jasmina…

may Your body always be clean and smell of Your soul

may Your heart always be full of love for everybody

may Your brain always be calm and simple and joyful

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo Jasmina…

whole planet Earth with all the stars belongs to You and

therefore care for them the way I felt You care for me

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo Jasmina…

may this poem guards You every day and may it give You the strength

throughout whole of Your life and in the end celebrate You my dear

Robert Edi Ersan Sebastian Kemal Kemana Vidan Mujo Jasmina…

this poem I will print to each of them separately

and give it to them in an envelope with a chocolate

writing is a light of presence

singing is the very light

poem

of

light

within

the

flanks

of

swinging

I’m writing so that I can always feel I’m here

only for You

i’m

singing

so

that

you

would

experience

that

i

am

you

You are my poem

singing Universe of Love

everything is good exactly the way everything is good

everything is love

a womb of the one and only love

Monday of love

just started to walk new-born

eternal art of the bud

Miroslav Mandic bud

walking creating singing

every moment everywhere and for everything love

eternal art in the poem of all beings

si

me

my

so

sing me my soul

one and only soul of all beings in each being

what

you’re

feeling

now

is

transformation

which

makes

from

you

my

poem

of all-love

sex – God’s miracle

money – God’s sanctity

God – God’s love

I don’t imply implying

nothing is cleaner than sex

nothing more unselfish than money

nothing more simple than by God

on the model in which I’m writing Miroslav Mandic every day the following is written in colour

T O   M I N E R A L S

33 blessings for Monday

T O   P L A N T S

33 blessings for Tuesday

T O   A N I M A L S

33 blessings for Wednesday

T O   S P I R I T S   O F   N A T U R E

33 blessings for Thursday

T O   P E O P L E

33 blessings for Friday

T O   H I G H E R   I N T E L L I G E N C E

33 blessings for Saturday

incomprehensible transforms

simplicity refines

I’m walking by the lake and hunting the seagulls with the camera

yesterday I wrote fly seagull fly

today I wish to write flying seagull is flying

while hunting seagulls I see how pigeons crows sparrows butterflies are flying

heart within me cheers

fly leaves fly

fly stones fly

fly loyalty fly

fly not giving up fly

fly incomprehensible fly

fly sex fly

fly money fly

fly sky fly

fly flight fly

fly Bud of Walking fly

it’s hard to take photos of flying beings

especially since I’m using the camera with a slow focus

each photo I make is some sort of a poem

I just thought of making the series of 33 photos with numbers

there is swirling behind the word swirling

I love when all knowledge is within one and only knowledge

I love when all loves are within one and only love

all

poems

in

one

and

only

poem

when all knowledge is not within one and only

knowledge that’s not the knowledge but professions

when all loves are not within one and only love that’s not love but selfishness

when all poems are not within one and only poem those are not poems but culture

I would love if all expert terminology would be replaced with the sameness

I would love if all loves would be replaced with the resurrection of all loves

I would love if all poems would live within the poem of the life itself

i’m

off

to

love

you

I looked at the grass and I felt that I love it – that I love You

when I love the grass I love You

when I love You I love the grass

I saw a paddle and I felt that I love it – that I love You

when I love a paddle I love You

when I love You I love a paddle

I’m watching and everything I’m watching I feel that I love – that I love You

when I love You I love everything

when I love everything I love You

I love grass because it’s grass

I love paddle because it’s a paddle

I love everything because it’s everything

I love You because You are I

a young man who is coming towards me has bent down

and lifted a dinar. you’ll be rich – I told him. I recently started

doing this. until now I wasn’t picking it up – he responded

today is Nadezhda Tolokonnikova’s birthday

I love You Nadezhda

freedom like the hurricane Sandy is conceived

in one moment at one place during one event

freedom is already conceived in Nadezhda’s heart

freedom breaks all the shackles

hurricane is rushing towards in which all suppressed rushing towards is breaking free

freedom is conceived in the heart of Julian Assange

even though Julian Assange is also imprisoned

I love You Julian

freedom is joy

whenever I feel freedom I’m setting myself free and I’m liberating

within freedom I love-kiss You is love which liberates You

I’m bathing You with tears my Gypsy

beauty on personal struggle for freedom is the same beauty as in sexual surrendering

path only path

my sensitivity is greater and greater

solitude more and more loyal

solitude is a refuge to the loyal and identical ones

blessings are nakedness

even when I don’t say a thing words are saying everything

and if I’m silent about something being silent about sings me

here the face of this old woman I could have been silent about

following blessing is beautiful

…the essence of the Tractatus is ethical… my work consists of two parts: one

which is set out here and everything else that I haven’t written down. and actually

that other part is important…

Ludwig Wittgenstein

I’m slowly going down the Boulevard to heal myself from Your injuries

cold sunny day. autumn colours of plane trees are enchanting me

this craw has reminded me of the craw from few days

ago who hid a walnut in the grass and covered it with leaves

I’m releasing the injuries and surrendering myself to the street

street is a miracle. festival of body and face. festival of hope and despair

I’m smiling to the street

I’m enjoying and I already can thank You for injuries

I’m enjoying that such book as Tractatus exists

have I ever written the word veering

the glow of old cobble under the asphalt shines like a poem

sun is warming my cold nostrils

I’m half way through. I’m tired. I’ll go slowly by the river Sava

I’ll call goodness to join me

I remember how on the Rose of Wandering when

I was exhausted I used to surrender to the tiredness and it carried me

diamantes melt away in front of tiredness goodness and love

I’m tenderly thinking of millions upon millions of people who did hard physical labour

in order to be worthy of those people I myself am mining 86400 Moments each day

in order to thank all those poets of work I’m singing them every day 86400 poems

I’m thinking of all different ways through which

people have been liberating others of hard and slavery work

one of the best ways is silence

I was never doing what people were expecting me

to do but on the other hand I was doing cities. doing love

doing insouciance doing unreasonableness. doing sameness. doing smile…

after so many ways of doing everything came down to walking creating and singing

and walking creating and singing to one and only poem which sings everything

I love-kiss You Gypsy

today is the Day of All Beings

Velimir Khlebnikov’s birthday

the day I went to prison forty years ago

the day I started the Rose of Wandering twenty one years ago

I’m listening to the black mother fucker mister Andre Williams

as soon as possible outside

on the road of forty years that are gone by

forty years of making a poem from life

forty years of making a life from poem

outside for hugging through walking

walking is fucking with everything that is

surrounding me and everything is surrounding me

everything begun with some sort of death that I experienced in jail and

with rebirth which vegetarianism nonviolence and all other decisions I made

in jail brought to me. decisions that were protecting and leading me through life

it carried on with love pain which has always reminding me to be worthy of love

and then the first step on the great road of the

invisible and patience in the visible on the great road

ten years of dying of my I brought me to the spring and revelation of the I of the very I

with the decision about walking I took upon myself

everything that all people do for several thousand years

with the prayer started oncoming to God and transformation into God

the Rose of Wandering has lead me into the heart

of the Universe and universe of the heart of all beings

Your constant presence all these forty years even though You are not yet around

an earring of the one and only and one and only love in the left ear

with Miroslav Mandic book identification of everything

with everything and everyone with everyone has started

with innocence of solitude I’ve discovered solitude in offspring of all beings

I love-kiss you runaway children

a temple of love in the tattooed word love on my right temple

I’m a mother a father a sister a brother a daughter a son to all beings

Bud

God

getting old

and after forty years here I am in the beauty of this sentence

for all these years I couldn’t have been a man if I lived like people

I wouldn’t have been a man also if I carried on being a man and not God as well

now

i’m

god

now that I am God You are God as well and everything is God

God is God

one

god

one

poem

one

bud

last night I was listening to John Coltrane

what a splendour listening to John Coltrane

God

God

blues

God

jazz

God

rock

God

hip-hop

God

electro

God

God

boulevard of music

as soon as possible outside to the Boulevard into the music of walking

9.58am

I at the Cvetko’s Market. from now on I’m going down the Boulevard

Saturday stray dog is wagging his tail love-kissing all beings

I’m thinking God and I’m thinking of a worm in the ground

who is feeling fine and I feel how that makes me feel fine as well

not believing in God but being God

not believing You’re love-kissing me but being love-kissing

I love-kiss all of those who believed and hoped

and love-kissed God so that I would also be God

God worm

I’m tenderly looking at everything I’m passing by and I feel that tender look is God

look tenderly over things and You will feel that it is God looking

it’s wonderful when I’m singing to God but it’s even more so when I’m singing God

walking makes me a man

creating an angel

poem God

sun is warming my back and both a stray dog and me are warm

on this corner my Gypsy beggar Ruzica was begging

now coffee papers and pleasure – says one older woman to another

in this kiosk by the Djeram Market is the best rye bread in the city

there is a big line on the street in front of the

post office because the pension money is being distributed

a trumpet player is sitting on the street and begging through sad melodies

a man behind me is constantly talking to himself

while going down the Balkanska street I’m thinking

weather to go through the Savska or Sarajevska street

Sarajevska is tamer so I’ll go through it. I lifted up the collar

and a smile appeared on my face and that would be it for this Saturday

I’m reading again the Narrations of a God Seeker

grace

music above music

goodness of God makes God out of anybody and anything

flickering everything flickers

God flickers God in each being

I’m watching the pigeons jigging the grass and I feel flickering of God within them

I’m watching the leaves of a plane tree and I feel trembling of God within it

I’m watching the yellow leaves of a walnut tree and I feel trembling of God within it

within whatever God is it is God

the writer of the Narrations is anonymous

I adore anonymous ones

Miroslav Mandic is a glory of all anonymous ones

through the name Miroslav Mandic I’m cleansing

myself from Miroslav Mandic and I’m becoming the name of God

everyone’s name celebrates nameless ones

namelessness serves the name

name celebrates namelessness

my beloved god-love-kisser and god-seeker I love-kiss You

You are the light within things

everything is shining and everyone is shining

I’m going

You’re singing

me

hey hey hey

every

word

is

poem

of light

within

any

other

thing

11.38 am

I came with a city bus to the end of Sremcica

I’ve never been to Sremcica

it feels good to be where I’ve never been

I’m happy because I’m somewhere

a tear is falling down my face

I’m rejoicing the road in front of me

from so many impressions not a single word is coming to me

when words are not saying anything then they are pointing out everything

it’s colder and colder and that is also wonderful

wavy hills on the edge of Sremcica are

disappearing in the fog which joined with the greyness of the sky

while You are reading this I’m walking by the street called Reader’s

in Sremcica I’m thinking of You Nadezhda Julian and god-seeker

from all of these impressions in Sremcica I could write

a huge book but instead of all of these words only two it’s raining

in two-three hundred years there won’t be even a trace of all of this

everything will turn into goodness and beauty of invisible and unspeakable

how happy I am not having a house

how happy I am to socialise with this rain

how happy I am that these words are singing me

I’m walking – embrace

I’m creating – love-kiss

I’m singing – fuck You

on the left side of the road there are no houses any

more so the wind is stronger and it pours slight rain on me

I’m getting out of the Sremcica

I went through Sremcica in 7645 steps in sixty seven minutes

alone on the road

being on the road means being in sex of the very life

in the sex of all beings who are intertwining and whirling above the road

being on the road is the wedding of enthusiasm and tranquillity

being on the road is the embrace with faith hope and love

I’m in Zeleznik

fuck how good is in Zeleznik as well

from Zeleznik I’m turning into the Obbrenovac road

I am the constant God’s glory

cars are speeding. nobody wants to stop. it’s really wonderful

I never liked to draw attention to myself but on the Second Walking

for Poetry I discovered and started to love both attention and carefulness

(in Serbian attention and carefulness are similar words: “pažnja” & “pažljivost”, T.N.)

walking draws attention

through attention everything is becoming carefulness

attention is mild

carefulness dear

God is walking

walking is God

every day is a victory of every day

anything is a victory of anything

everything that is wins through the fact that it is

I don’t believe in existing model of the world

existing models of the world are closest to the world but because

of their wide expectance they are also farthest from what the world is

I am the world

word world

words of the world

holly poem of the word

(in Serbian “holly” and “world” used in this way are the same: “sveta”, T. N.)

God is art

art is God

the language which I’m speaking all beings are speaking

the language in which I’m singing all beings are singing

the language through which I am all beings are

the language with which I’m walking all beings are walking

the language through which I’m love-kissing all beings are love-kissing

the language of the first time first spoken word

the language of the first time every spoken word

the language through which myriad times

repeated word I’m using as if I’m saying it for the first time

melodising

melody of the language is in the oath to the first word

melody of the language is in the first time spoken word melody

innocence of an oath protects the innocence of the language

human languages divide

language unites

God is poem

poem is God