Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

poem
the poem of one name
the name of a man
the name of god
the name of a poem
i wrote it i sang it
from january 6th 2005 to july 24th 2017
i sang it every day except sunday
33 poems a day
i call them blessings
198 blessings per week
129600 blessings for twelve and a half years
129600 (360×360) blessings have formed a ball book
universe
universe of poem
each day is marked with day number and date of singing
first three books have been published
fourth and fifth book are in my computer
last eight books are on the website
i hope that everything will soon be together on the website

    You
    are

    298249

    bud

    I WILL READ IT AGAIN AFTER FORTY YEARS

    1965. day
    19th May 2010

    now is ancient

     

    ancient instantaneous

     

    instantaneous immortal

     

    immortal now – joyful now

     

    Universe feels good within me

     

    I’m not only going. I’m also crying. as well as rhyming

     

    I’m approaching Danube – it’s colder and colder

     

    which name is the oldest in the world

     

    flavour and experience of the name

     

    I love free verse

     

    thinking through freedom

     

    acting through one and only truth

     

    seekers of excuses live digging through more and more excuses

     

    while I was taking photos of the roses and cherries over the fence old lady came out

    from the house and asked me what are you photographing. roses and cherries – I

    answered. just do it just take your photos – she smiled and got back in the house

     

    more than art I only love art itself

     

    more than many things I only love one thing

     

    more than seeing one thing many times I only love to see one thing for the first time

     

    more than creating I only love singing

     

    more than singing I only love creating

     

    creating and singing – screw it screw it – it’s a divine existence

     

    swallows are flying over Danube. that’s where their lunch is served today

     

    after three days of getting soaked with rain today I didn’t

     

    I live for You every day

     

    You are writing me within You every day

     

    You are reading Yourself in me every day

     

    I’m nothing – through blessing – I’m everything

     

    I’m nothing – through You – I’m everything

     

    nothing

    through poem

    everything

     

    my creating is gratitude to the art that saved and created me

     

    creation is affirmation of creation

     

    art – saving creation

    singing – creating salvation

     

    admiration  is the only education

     

    I was looking at the street book sellers for a year to

    find it and here it is in my arms Andre Gide’s Strait is the Gate

    HERSTORY

    1966. day
    20th May 2010

    as a first thing instead of history herstory. instead of his – her history of history

     

    only insight that I love is an insight into yet uncreated

     

    I love works of art created only through thinking

     

    I love works of art created only through will

     

    the one created through vanity falls apart on its own

     

    vanity doesn’t love – vanity kills the vain one

     

    when I am vanity is not

     

    allowed and respected drug addictions are more criminal

    and lethal than the forbidden and punished drug addictions

     

    entertainment drug addiction enslaves millions

     

    fashion drug addiction captivates millions

     

    medical drug addiction disables millions

     

    power drug addiction crazes millions

     

    maternity drug addiction is the most covered up drug addiction

     

    patriotism drug addiction kills millions

     

    vanity drug addiction is the most lethal drug addiction

     

    You are

     

    Djodje Stanojevic

     

    just now I got a phone call from unknown to me Djordje Stanojevic. it means a lot to me

    he invited me to take part in the exhibition he prepares. I rejected the proposal as I

    always do. but I told him that I would love if he could feel that I am in his heart

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Djordje Stanojevic

     

    he will visit me in the Nest with his friends – I’m looking forward. on

    certain Cosmic shore I will tell them about Miroslav Mandic

     

    I will ask them few things

     

    come

    dedicated to participants of the colony that Djordje Stanojevic will organise in time of the exhibition

     

    let’s walk over the slopes of all-soul

     

    sanctity of the unknown

     

    through myself I celebrate the other

     

    through myself I bringing up everybody

     

    through myself I kiss everything

     

    through myself modesty

     

    through myself through God

     

    through myself through You

     

    step by step

     

    let’s identify oursleves

     

    through colourful fields we are walking

     

    BY YOUR WILL I’M FREE

    1967. day
    21st May 2010

    I saw three papers torn out of different books. I picked them up

    from the ground in order to write today’s blessings out of them

     

    what are these books. who are their authors. who torn them

     

    she waited for them to make love again

     

    nothing out of it

     

    it was as it usually is

     

    she felt used and humiliated

     

    he was razed to the ground

     

    he loved everything on her

     

    he knew that love would destroy their relationship

     

    such body nobody had

     

    he fucked her for seventeen minutes

     

    it wasn’t as it used to be

     

    cunt remains cunt

     

    shake out into somebody else

     

    his lips clenched

     

    she felt dirtier than if she lay with him hundred times

     

    I would love to hear something

     

    today is our day

     

    he was speechless

     

    he didn’t expect that

     

    she aroused him so immensely that it all finished before it begun

     

    in the other book on one page is a children’s drawing

    and in the back among other thing is written

     

    she was now sitting upright and thinking

     

    it seems to me as if the sun is always looking for me in the water

     

    it’s rude to cry

     

    two street boys

     

    looking for old nails

     

    but it gave them pleasure

     

    black clothes elongates and needle thought that it was even more elegant then before

     

    there is an egg shell floating

     

    said the darning needle

     

    pine needles are shimmering

     

    the one who surrenders to the other is saved

     

    SATURDAY MORNING PATH

    1968. day
    22nd May 2010

    I

     

    am

     

    a morning

     

    path

     

    for

     

    your

     

    soft

     

    feet

     

    through

     

    which

     

    I feel

     

    your

     

    warm

     

    goodness

     

    and

     

    beauty

     

    how

     

    they

     

    spread

     

    on

     

    all

     

    beings

     

    while

     

    birds

     

    are singing

     

    hymns

     

    of jauntiness

     

    and

     

    flowers

     

    are burgeoning

     

    through eternal

     

    harmonies

     

    of causelessness

     

    ART IS WALKING FOR IVAN IVANOVIC

    1970. day
    24th May 2010

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

     

    boy’s heart in every being

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic 

    boyhood in every lost boy

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic 

    boy-like in every lost girl 

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    man-betrayal of God and boy’s oath never to betray anybody

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    boy’s love for innocent victim and need to identify with it

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    boy’s victim is often deceived by fake victim

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    boy’s victim saves people from cowardice

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    boy’s victim saves people from selfishness

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    boy’s victim is a lamb in the heart of all beings

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    girls and boys know that the best ones are dying in first years of their lives

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    the first and the last boy is one and only boy

     

    Art is walking for Ivan Ivanovic

    Ivan Ivanovic – Juice I bought for You a book Prince of Numbers

    if somebody knows young mister Ivan Ivanovic tell him that

     

    from 24th May to 4th June I’m writing the definitions of art. in Miroslav Mandic 6

    new definitions are flowing from number 721 to 864 in that boy-like art of defining

     

    life is sometimes so insensitive that we should kill ourselves immediately

     

    don’t be afraid of dying since you already experienced it

    don’t be afraid of death You are already dead

    don’t be afraid of death – death wants to live

    don’t be afraid of death – death is dead

     

    evil is old

     

    everything that is is within me

     

    everything that is between others is already between You and me

     

    the one who is nothing for somebody is everything

     

    in Nada Pulic street I hear the voice from the radio... I’m taking

    the hat off to Haradinai and Taci. they are our enemies...

     

    enemy teaches me my weaknesses

     

    enemy shows me that I am my own enemy

     

    enemy is non-remorse

     

    enemy is non-redeeming

     

    enemy is non-transformation

     

    enemy is what I’m not and I think I am

     

    enemy loves me and revels to me that I don’t have no enemies

     

    first smell of linden this year

     

    first baby-potatoes

     

    poor man carries full bucket of collected snails for sale

     

    I’m very alone – that is so boy-like

     

    I’m very alone – You are so the same

     

    words are kissing words

     

     

    ART IS LIFE WITH THE ART OF SAYINGS-PROVERBS-PRINCIPLES

    1971. day
    25th May 2010

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    one is the master of an unspoken word and the slave of the spoken one

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    I said and I saved my soul

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    I believe in order to understand

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    knock and it will open

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    man is happy as much as he-she can make others happy

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    if you wish to be happy you must live hidden

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    to the one that can wait everything comes in time

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    not a single rule is without an exception

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    by the manner mild and in the essence unyielding

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    courage wins not multitude

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    life is the struggle for life

     

    Art is life with the art of sayings-proverbs-principles

    a thousand mile road begins with one step

     

    with the first step

     

    with blue steps

     

    with the sun on the naked feet

     

    I’m walking for the killed rebellion leaders in all rebellions

     

    rebellion is sometimes the only hope

     

    rebellion is sometimes the only life

     

    sometimes only the rebellion against life saves life

     

    I’m walking slowly and gently – I rebelled against impatience within me

     

    I’m walking even slower – I rebelled against the feeling of loneliness

    because I know I’m not alone

     

    every day I rebel against myself – every day I calm down in the rebellion

     

    every day I rise in the uprising

     

    uprising against staleness and habitualness

     

    it’s nice when I have something to say and I say it

     

    it’s nice when I have something to say and I don’t say it

     

    it’s nice when I don’t have what to say and I say it

     

    it’s nice when I don’t have what to say and I start singing it

     

    rhythms

     

    rhythms. repeated rhythms

     

    rhythms. same rhythms. different rhythms

     

    rhythms. same rhythms. different rhythms. same and different rhythms

     

    I winked. I just winked. I haven’t for a while. it was pleasant

     

    ART IS ALISSA BUCOLIN

    1972. day
    26th May 2010

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    heroes of the book Strait is the Gate that lives within me for forty years already

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    from the day when out of the love for one another

    we had a premonition of something better than love

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    I exist only with him

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    while I was still a child, I wanted, already only because of him, to

    be beautiful. it seems to me that I was always longing for perfection

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    oh! to be able to pull our two souls simultaneously with the strength of love, above love

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    the path you are leading us Lord, is narrow

    it’s narrow so as two people could go side by side

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    will I know how to show myself the way I decided to be,

    so as his love could renounce me

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    Jerome! my friend, you, who I still call

    my brother, but who I love infinitely more than a brother

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    I love very much to listen how he calls my name. I’ll put my hand

    into his. I will lean my forehead on his shoulder. I will breathe next to him

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    my God, you know very well that I cannot love you without him

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    tired as if I was very old, my soul remained strangely childish. I’m still that little girl

    who couldn’t fall asleep until everything was in order in her room and until the taken of

    suit wasn’t nicely folded by the head of the bed this is how I would love to prepare myself

    for death

     

     

    Art is Alissa Bucolin

    now I would love to die quickly, before I realise again that I am alone

     

    my Alissa I love You all these years

     

    not a moment have You been alone nor You ever will be alone God’s Alissa

     

    I wouldn’t survive this life if it wasn’t for Alissa’s words and Alissa all these years

     

    biology wouldn’t survive without love

     

    matter wouldn’t exist without virtue

     

    energy wouldn’t be eternal without the perfection of fragile beings

     

    monuments to anonymous forces of love are cleansing the hearts corrupted by love

     

    one woman is love

     

    courage of anonymous ones is keeping people on their feet

     

    one man is manhood

     

    blue steps lead me towards infinite distances of the innocent heart

     

    blue steps lead me towards timeless moments of the honest mind

     

    tininess teaches me about the important allure

    tininess teaches me about the important allure are Tin Ujevic’s words that Mate Parlov loved

    a man who Srdjan Valjarevic loves and he’s the one who sent me Tin’s poem Touching Remarks last night

     

    anonymous ones are confirming everybody’s name

     

    beggars are guarding dignity of anybody’s work

    you were the witness

     

    virtues of the other are evolving my biology

     

    I am under the oath to the presents of anonymous forces of love

     

    these are the poppies of Alissa Bucolin

     

    this is the grave of Isidora Sekulic

     

    this is a sin of sinless and innocent ones that are absorbing everybody’s sin

    and are curing every being

     

    this is the boy that I played a double pass with on the street

     

    ART IS THE SHE-WOLF AND HER MONK

    1973. day
    27th May 2010

    ART IS THE SHE-WOLF AND HER MONK

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    blue steps are leading me towards the holly incest

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    not to give him something – but to give him everything

    dedicated to the woman who said these words

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    danger is tender – tenderness is dangerous

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    You are my onlywine

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    You are my allbrandy

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    You are my life that I live

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    You are my life that is lived by all beings

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    You are my Godess that kisses by life and makes even death alive

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    You are my swear-word – most fuckable God‘s truth

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    everything is one – one of love

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    love – incest

     

    Art is the She-Wolf and Her Monk

    one – incest

     

    one blood

     

    one air

     

    one light

     

    blue steps take me to the eternal rock’n’roll of all beings

    blue steps take me to the exciting monotony of all beings

     

    Manlover-Godlover

     

    in the world of false justice and indifference sinners are God‘s love

     

    one is the mother

     

    one is the father

     

    we are all born from the holly incest from one mother and one father

     

    swear-words are defense from the mortal taste of educated rich and powerful

     

    swear-words are an addition to the taste of eternal love of all beings

     

    prohibitions are the most tasteless

     

    poem

    is

    an

    attitude

    sacredness

    of

    vulgarity

    which

    sometimes

    is

    the

    only

    one

    that

    loves

    beauty

    and

    goodness

    of

    the

    sister

    courage

     

    poem

    is

    an

    incest

    of

    the

    same

    ones

    and

    sameness

     

    while we were walking through Zvezdara forest I gave

    to Milica Bogosavljevic great work I’ll Take it Myself

     

    poem

    of

    forbidden

     

    poem

    of

    invisible

     

    poem

    of

    inexpressible

     

    for many beings – love for all beings – is the greatest swear-word

    dedicated to the many and all beings

     

    we won’t see each other any more

     

    weareone

     

    ART IS THE HOLLY INCEST OF ALL BEINGS IN ONE AND ONLY LOVE

    1974. day
    28th May 2010

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    fucking is

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    fucking is one

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    morning joy

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    boy number

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    fucking is the first number in the alphabet

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    incest of freedom and God’s truth

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    incest is the path of the beginning to the beginning

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    incest is the first touch to the touch

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    incest is the first kiss to the first kiss

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    poem is incest – poem about poem

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    incest – remedy from fears

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

    incest atones sins

     

    Art is the holly incest of all beings in one and only being

     

    Violeta Jovanovic told me that this morning she walked her second out of 33 walkings

     

    not the tears of pain but the tears of pain relief

    dedicated to girl Danka

     

    taking away the pain tears are making way to the joy in the heart

    dedicated to girls Katarina and Danka

     

    tears of love are taking away the reasons for tears of pain

    dedicated to eternally alive Katarinadanka

     

    tears – mystery of empathy

     

    tears of love – mystery of merging

     

    tears of love – tears of the holly incest

     

    tear and dew

     

    dew is tearing

     

    tear is dewing

     

    incest is the holly incest is incest

     

    everything has merged into one – one is feeding everything with love

     

    well done boys – I said to the strong boys that

    hopped over the ant path. they turned around and replied with a smile

     

    future of the science is in feelings

     

    future of the religion is in sex

     

    future of the future is in thisfuckable moment of all-love

    Your reading is a witness of all-love in Your heart

     

    if You have just seen me all these years

     

    if You have just seen me how I walked through the forest

     

    if You have just seen me how I was writing up until now

     

    if only You had on Your tongue what I have in a poem

     

    love

    is

    through

    divine

    incest

    fucked

    and

    sung

    in

    this

    only-one

    poem

    of

    yours

     

     

     

    ART IS INCEST – MY BELOVED CACTUS

    1975. day
    29th May 2010

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    fucking is

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    lips on the cactus

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    I want You more

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    I want You forever

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    I want You only

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    the history of mankind is just a yearning for You

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    all beings love-kiss each other – goodness is most fuckable

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    my love die and resurrect in my love

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    mother wants to be born again in all beings

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    mother of God

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    poet Faludy György friend

     

    Art is incest – my beloved cactus

    So God created man in his own image, in the image of

    God he created him; male and female he created them.

     

    here I am – I the incest

     

    I love-kiss You – love-kiss me – I love-kiss us – let’s love-kiss all beings

     

    I drink in Your health cure me

     

    nothing succeeds like success and nothing is as tasteless as success

     

    the success is to get to love the childhood of the other through one’s own childhood

     

    vine is singing vivo

     

    my child – beloved Sanita – lead me

     

    children bear me

     

    younglings are singing me

     

    beings are celebrating me

     

    same to the same the same

     

    love for Miroslava and Radoslav

     

    I’m guilty because I sing

     

    I’m guilty because I love-kiss all beings

     

    I’m guilty because all beings love-kiss all beings

     

    I’m guilty because

    I create love every moment everywhere and for everything – it is the eternal art

    in the poem of all beings

     

    singing is redeeming the sin of all beings

     

    here I am – I the fucking

     

    here I am – guard me within You

     

    here I am – just for You and Your beloved man

    few simple things in the everyday life that guard us from mortal horror and cure those mortally ill

    thank you Miroslav for all of this that you just told me

     

    I am an incest bud – bud of all beings


    ART IS THE BUD – MACHINE IN INCEST WITH ALL MACHINES AND ALL BEINGS

    1977. day
    31st May 2010

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    I don’t give a fuck about anything is the first letter in the primer of love – love for one

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    all machines are emitting love – I entered the world of machines with the bow down

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    all helping devices from spoons airplanes computers and pens to the teledildonics

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    huge truck full of truck music

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    machines are constantly calling why are you not here why aren’t you

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    machines are the storms in a brain

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    caressing of the heart

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    music of the voice

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    we are one in fervor

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    we are one u flowers

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    we are one in wings

     

    Art is the Bud – Machine in Incest with All Machines and All Beings

    machine of the word indivisibility

     

    I’m getting wet in the rain – with all my being to all beings – we are getting wet

     

    I love-kiss

    I love-kiss

    I love-kiss

     

    love-kiss love-kiss love-kiss – listen to me – love-kiss love-kiss love-kiss

     

    sometimes we love somebody only so that we would have the right on them

    so that we would own them

     

    sometimes we love somebody so that nobody else would have the right to love them

     

    sometimes we love only to be loved

     

    I love the body that love-kisses and accepts everything

     

    I love the feelings that are surrendering themselves to the other

     

    I love the thoughts that feelings are surrendering to the will

     

    I love the will that surrenders itself to the unknown

     

    I love the faith that is smiling

     

    I love fucked love

     

    I love creation through fucking

     

    without vulgar words there is no beauty

     

    without vulgarity there is no cognition and freedom

     

    without the vulgar ones we don’t exist in each other

     

    I

     

    You

     

    I

     

    blue

     

     

    ART IS THE VOICE OF GOD – THE VOICE OF THE ONE

    1978. day
    1st June 2010

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    I believe the one – the one guards me –I love-kiss the one

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    the one has opened me to everything

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    the one has thought me singing – the one has made me make an oath to the poem

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    through the one I experienced one truth

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    he-one charmed me through she-one – only through she-one I am also he-one

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    only I am everything through everybody

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    only I am everything and only everybody and everything is I

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    the one is the weakest – in the one everything disappears – within the one

    everything transforms – into You

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    within the body of the one all beings are

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    within the heart of the one the younglings of all beings are

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    within the brain of the one the poem of all beings is

     

    Art is the Voice of God – the Voice of the One

    within the will of the one is I You God

     

    first of June

     

    first of June again

     

    it’s raining

     

    it’s first of June

     

    it’s always the first of June – the first of June is forever

     

    it’s raining with November rain in the beginning of June

     

    it’s pouring and pouring that cold June-November rain

     

    transiency is eternal – the first of June will pass

     

    hey first of June that June-November of Yours is still pouring

     

    You allure me June – You allure me rain

     

    You are juneing me June

     

    I am juneing You she-june

    mystical unity permeates all beings

     

    hesychastic prayer illuminates all beings

     

    I

    EckhartPalamas

     

    transiency is eternal – the first of June is passing

     

    I am a warm soup

     

    bloody lip

     

    blood into the spirit into the word

     

    transiency is eternal – the first of June has passed

     

    again first of June You are eternally not passing

     

     

    ART IS GOD’S MOTHER

    1979. day
    2nd June 2010

    Art is God’s Mother

    You gave birth to me

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You have regenerated everything

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are sinless fucking birth and dying

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are the only whore of love in the world in which the honest ones

    are whored with love

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are the only whore of love in the world in which people kill each another with love

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are yes to all beings – fertilizing creation

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are all to everybody and everything

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are Your husband

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are Your daughter and Your son

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are the mother and the father of all bastards

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are my poem

     

    Art is God’s Mother

    You are God

     

    You know that I am You

     

    You know that I know that You want to love-kiss me

     

    You know that I know that I am Your desire

     

    You know that I know that You want to surrender to me

     

    You know that I know that You want to fly together with me

     

    You know that I know that You want to be all beings

     

    You know that I know that You want to be calm

     

    You know that I know that You want to be in ecstasy

     

    You know that I know that You want to be me

     

    I know

     

    fucking is classical – taste of thirst and hunger

     

    I know

     

    today as well is raining with June-November rain

     

    sour cherries are wet

     

    today I will go with Branko Popovic on fourth lunch in 6 and 400 kafana

    delayed

     

    today Djordje Stanojevic with his friends will pay me a visit

     

    love for the unknown and unknown people

     

    You are my everything

     

    I am

     

    You are my child

     

    fuck me – give birth to me

     

     

     

    ART IS THE BUD OF ALL BEINGS – 60TH TIME 33 DAYS

    1980. day
    3rd June 2010

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    art confirms art 

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings 

    art confirms singing 

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings 

    singing confirms art

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    singing confirms singing

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    confirmation of love loves confirmation

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    identification confirms identification

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    Your face confirms mine

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    Ad Reinhardt confirms Ad Reinhardt

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    swearword confirms sweared at

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    I’m a whore gigolo

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    delivering-lecture to Djordje Stanojevic – his friends and all beings

    last night from 18:30 to 22:00 – who knows Katalin Kesery tell her

    that I love her and that through Godyou the definitions of art are budding and kissing

     

    Art is the Bud of All Beings

    every word that I have spoken confirms the love that I have created

     

    with my left hand fingers I’m caressing the fingers of the right hand

     

    I’m on the sea shore

    do walk sometimes instead of me for all beings

     

    to the one who doesn’t understand what is written in this blessing

    I’m saying clearly that it’s written I kiss her – You my beloved

     

    writing is kissing

     

    reading is fucking

     

    let’s kiss and fuck

     

    it hurts me love me

     

    good writes good

     

    beautiful writes beautiful

     

    me in Your skin

     

    Miroslav Mandic in Your hands

     

    unsolvable now lives in eternally solvable

     

    God just God 

     

    anger

    how tender is this word

     

    with forehead ohm

    word anger – with bee ohm –word honey

    with body ohm

     

    sometimes millenniums are needed so that

    the conclusive importance of this irrelevant blessing is recognised

    dedicated to You through who I am

     

    somebody needs just a moment to feel that I am immortality actually within them

     

    sometimes I’m nothing else but my mother that got born within You

     

    I love-kiss You crazily my only loyal fool

     

    when in some motherfucking cunt of worry You feel that everything went to fuck

    remember then that in this cock the pussy of insouciance is budding and that everything

    has found its peace in the pussy of gratuitousness

     

    I am a stone thrown at the whore that while flying transformed itself into the love for

    the whore and immaculate as well as righteous ones that are constantly throwing stones

    at the chaste and innocent ones

    dedicated to...

     

    MIROSLAV MANDIC IS EVERYBODY’S MOTHER ART

    1981. day
    4th June 2010

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    my mother is the mother of all beings

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    my mother gives her pussy to all beings

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    one is the mother of ours. we are all fucking one mother

    we are all born by one mother. we are all breast fed by one mother

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    one mother is kissing us. one mother is leading us towards death

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    let’s liberate mothers from giving births. let’s liberate love from life. let’s liberate

    life from death. let’s liberate death from its role. let’s liberate roles from roles

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    mother and father do get married within me

    mother and father do reconcile all men and women within me

    mother and father do return to the paradise-one-God within me

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    I know that only You would love if I would fuck Your mother

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    I know that the particles are one. I know that the

    waves are one. I know that thoughts are kissing everything that is

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    I would love if You would name hermeneutics by singing and singing by caressing

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    I would love if You would shelter me – I am Your will – I am Your freedom

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    I would love if You would obey me – I am Your love – I am Your obedience

    happy 84th birthday Kaja

     

    Miroslav Mandic is Everybody’s Mother Art

    Kaja I love You

    all beings are begging You that nobody ever let down Miroslav Mandic

    happy 84th birthday Kaja God’s Mother

     

    love in the jaws

     

    loneliness is the only unexplored area

     

    everything else is within You

     

    my Youa I am Your Iam

     

    untranslatable is the most clear

     

    untranslatable the most singable

     

    tree on top of the beam

     

    love to the naked

     

    ugly woman fucks the best since she thinks it’s her last time

    one great woman told me in Ljubljana in 1989 – that is one of the most tender things I’ve ever heard in my life

     

    I am that ugly woman

     

    I kiss You most beautiful woman of all beings

     

    I kiss You abandoned

     

    I kiss You existence – just fuck every moment

     

    for twelve days I’ve been writing definitions of love

    I wanted to write definitions of art – but You wrote definitions of love

     

    for twelve days I’ve been writing while drinking wine – it drained me – let the fruit and vegetables ripen in abundance

     

    yesterday I translated blessings with Google Translator

     

    language is one

     

    I’m translating it so as there would be one language

     

    one and only word

     

    letter

     

    unspoken

    sung

     

    GOD IS FREEDOM IN MY WRITING

    1982. day
    5th June 2010

    there is no coming back – return is eternal

     

    God of obedience – obedience to God

     

    every word liberates me – girly-swearwords especially

     

    when I remember people that are dying of hunger now

    every word of mine is a swearword

     

    when I remember humane killings that are carried out now

    in pharmaceutical industry and meet industry every breath I take is a swearword

     

    high viewing figures commerciality and citation rates are leading into

    communism liberalism and fascism

     

    life is a constant horror of facing up to our own selfishness

     

    life is a constant horror of facing up to our own egoism

     

    life is a beautiful struggle for love

     

    life is a wonderful struggle for immortality

     

    I love to write so that every word that I write down fucks with the next one

     

    I

    am

    ashamed

     

    I

    am

    ashamed

    because

    of

    love

     

    I

    am

    ashamed

    because

    of

    love

    and

    everybody

    that

    are

    convicted

    because

    of

    love

     

    I yearn to tell You who I am – I am God within You

     

    I kiss Your shoulders

     

    fuck my back

     

    mother is the moment of the defined

     

    You are the naked woman on the grave of my mother

     

    father is the primeval of abstraction

     

    You are the naked breasts and arse on the grave of my father

     

    so that war which is going on now would stop forever. every war

    any war. as well as the worst war between woman and man

     

    You are the nakedness and everything somebody wishes for themselves

     

    ...finding ourselves in the time (transiency) of the world, man’s nature

    is subordinated to the insecure and changeable movements, because of the

    changing and deterioration of the world. when it comes into the unity with God, however

    human nature will be in ever-moving condition (αεικινητος στασις) and

    constant same-movement (στασιμον ταυτοκινησιαν) eternally existing

    around the One that is the Same, Single and Only One – Maxim the Confessor

     

    ever-moving condition – winking – everything different in the same

     

    radiant tranquillity in the nerves of the Universe

     

    mild pleasure in the muscle fibres of all beings

     

    I-am-ing

     

    with-one-word-all-melody-of-all-words-is-flowing

     

    I am a monument to all whores that have saved the mankind of self-devouring

     

    mines of love and scientific inventions are in the whores

     

    my words are whores that kiss all beings

     

    smell of dill

    HOLLY FUCKING

    1984. day
    7th June 2010

    I is dying in You through fucking

     

    You gives life to I

     

    I resurrects I

     

    holly is the fucking

     

    holly is the breathing

     

    holly is the writing

     

    marriage of a girl and a boy

     

    I got married the minute I got born

     

    life divorced me from You

     

    I’m coming back to love – I’m coming back to love – I’m coming back to love

     

    love resurrects

     

    kill me with cock – You used to tell me

     

    I live for every word

     

    dusk love-kisses dawn

     

    I am a diary of myself

     

    I am a diary of the word I

     

    I am a diary of the word money

     

    I am a diary of the word fucking

     

    I am an every night diary of the word night

     

    I am an everyday diary of the word day

     

    I am a diary of repentance of all beings towards all beings

     

    I am a diary of soft leather of the one and only leather

     

    I am a diary of all my defeats

     

    I am a God diary

     

    I smell Your fragrance

     

    we are again in heaven

     

    I live Your loyalty

     

    we are gardening the garden of life

     

    I am one from You and not one from two

     

    I am one from one and not one from many

     

    baby potatoes are cooling down

     

    lettuce

     

    gratitude

     

    A CHILD

    1985. day
    8th June 2010

    turtledoves

     

    heath from the morning

     

    I washed my sandals. I have to take them to the cobbler on sawing

     

    I drew 64 Buds are Singing to the Bud of All Beings

     

    I drew Blue Rose and started recording hundred and fifty third hour of Blue Film

     

    I will drink these two or three sips of the second coffee and get into the heath

     

    1736 kilometres are behind me – 38341 kilometres are in front of me

     

    dancing and singing

     

    I love-kiss You First Time Second Ten Year Walking

     

    walking should be undertaken not writing

     

    I’m meandering – looking for the shade

     

    I threw away the envelope with 50 dinars in it on which is written happiness love health

     

    I drew Good Walker underneath which I write number of kilometres I walked

     

    I threw a ball in the air but the sun blinded me and I couldn’t catch it

     

    all people live in jail. nobody dares to open the jail doors and get out through them

    one child dared and opened the doors. the rest have immediately swarmed up

    and run the child over. people in freedom are now talking how brave they were

    and how they got out through the door. they don’t mention the child. they have

    killed and buried the child in their hearts. this story came to my on

    the rise of Mother Angelina Street

     

    through entertainments and sadness’s

     

    through comfort and insensibility

     

    through indifference and violence of authorities

     

    people live in jail

     

    love is a child

     

    courage is child’s heart within a man

     

    freedom is to live for the child within oneself

     

    only 3,33 kilometres – let’s go child

     

    if I wasn’t a child I would have killed myself

     

    I’m walking for all the children that killed themselves

     

    I can’t go further down this road I need to go back

     

    I stopped and by watching without even a blink

    I’m hunting the hunt of the white cat in high grass

     

    the cat at one point jumped aloof and high and caught the lizard

     

    grandpa is cutting a hedge sitting on the chair and his grandson is holding the chair

    so that grandpa wouldn’t fall

     

    cut down sour cherry tree thrown away to junkyard still lives and ripens

     

    I’m nothing without the child within me

     

    I’m nothing without love for younglings of all beings

     

    forest paths are still wet from a lot of rain

     

    MAGNOLIA

    1986. day
    9th June 2010

    when tears start falling

     

    with Ana and San in Botanical Garden. San watched fishes and turtles

     

    I saw my magnolia

     

    I haven’t seen her for few years

     

    she grew

     

    quite a girl

     

    green girl

     

    taller than me

     

    I plucked off few dried leaves of her

     

    she’s young

     

    solid

     

    her leaves are big

     

    she’s full of juices

     

    yearning for light

     

    yearning for soil

     

    yearning for water

     

    surrounded by air

     

    grown through love

     

    cared for from other herbs

     

    her trunk is high

     

    she wants to grow more

     

    when I planted her she was up to my chest

     

    it was autumn – 31st October 2004

     

    it meant a lot to me

    it means even more now

     

    the first tree that I have planted in my life

     

    the tree for the book

     

    I love one and only sex – sex of all beings with all beings

     

    I was enjoying water lilies

     

    I live for You magnolia

     

    all mine is Yours

     

    I’m watching You on the photo and I feel that’s me

     

    light kisses light

     

    my green one

     

    IT’S A GREAT JOB WALKING BARE-CHESTED

    1987. day
    10th June 2010

    after the first word it’s already easier

     

    ship has parted from the bank

     

    airplane is accelerating on the runway and it’s taking off

     

    bank is disappearing in the water

     

    soil is disappearing in the air

     

    light is disappearing in the word light

     

    I spread my arms

     

    wind in the branches

     

    in the quiet streets

     

    everything already happened

     

    everything happens again

     

    a crow is standing on the top of the wooden post

     

    young woman is getting out of the house and she’s walking

    down the street as if she was on the catwalk

     

    I would love to swim

     

    hydrangeas are coming

     

    I wish you luck – an old woman told me

    when she saw me picking up a dinar of the ground

     

    what’s everything good for if not for me to kiss everything

     

    I stopped and I’m watching young tennis player how she skips the cord

     

    two boys are spraying each other with water from the drinking fountain

     

    on the uphill of Volga’s street I took off my t-shirt

     

    even though I’m more and more ashamed it’s very important

    that I walk bare-chested as often as possible

     

    bathing in air and light is one of the most important duties in life

     

    I’m joyful every time I see cockhorse

     

    I smell the sweat of my armpits and I remember how

    when I was young I was playing football on Danube beaches

     

    body yearns for another body – one and only body of all beings

     

    my body is Your body

     

    through body I’m writing to You through body I’m surrendering to You

     

    through body I’m singing You – through body I’m calling You

     

    bodies are getting born and dying confirming one and only body

     

    each body is beautiful and wonderful

     

    for everybody’s body bodies of all beings are yearning

     

    by surrendering through my body I’m rejoicing all beings

     

    Bud of All Beings is immortality of the body in everybody’s body

     

     

     

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