Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

confidence creates singing

yesterday’s hobnob with Elisa Sur and Arti Sombaty was God

money crisis

before walking I looked up how many people are certainly

giving me money for 64 Buds and I was a bit terrified

when I give 350 euros per month for rent and expenses

for the Nest I’m left with 50 euros for food clothing hygiene and work

that’s not enough

although it’s very good because I’ve got the money to pay the Nest

Miroslav Mandic Art and all its work are in the Nest

I work in the Nest as a shepherd of the Nest

instead of being paid as a shepherd I got a

bed and space to work on Miroslav Mandic Art

when I saw how things are with money I took a long

strip of white paper with me on walking in order to write notes for

the letter that I will be sending from next year to the unknown people asking for help

until the end of this year I will have enough money because some people owe me

I hope that the number of donors for 64 Buds are Singing to the Bud of All Beings

will increase and that I’ll be able to live and work peacefully in the Nest next year as well

in the Nest for taking off

what I’m holding in my hand at this moment is the paper on which I wrote down

few ideas and notes for the New Year’s Letter to the Unknown People

crisis (Greek) turning point or decisive moment in events; medically:

the moment from which an illness may go on to death or recovery;

figuratively: turnover, disorder, confusion; political crisis, unusual situation,

especially between the resignation and forming of a new government;

economic crisis, disturbance of wider economic circles in terms of

production or consumption of the national products.

crisis liberates and regenerates

crisis I love-kiss You calm down in my embrace

crisis You and me are massaging the feet of the brave ones

we kiss the knees of the victim

confidence gives birth to the solidarity

yesterday I saw a beautiful man and beautiful woman sitting at the table

today I saw dried torn rose thrown away on the gravel

confidence creates new money

I’m getting up from the desk to clean beautiful paprikas

and put them in the oven to bake in oil

beings are dying and resurrecting in other beings through confidence

confidence in unpredictable adds up

if

somebody

is

here

do

sing

this

gentle

song

to

aunty

Nada

mother

of

my

best

friend

You began loving me when You saw how I surrender to friends

You surrendered to me when You saw how loyal I am to a friend

I’m creating new money through every word

with each blessing I’m adding up sufficient money to You

gratitude gratitude – You are the heart of new money

gratitude I just want to tell You that thanks to You I am at the moment

on the list of all beings the Richest Being in the World of All Beings

soon

Aly is dead

soon

soon

Dear Miroslav, 

Dear Miroslav, 

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

Dear Miroslav, 

Ever since my dear husband Ally died I wasn't able

to translate your blessings. Sometime next week I'll get back to

translations and catch up with the ones I didn't do so far. Love. Ivana

I give life to life

I give life to love

I give life to the ideals

to the warmth under the armpits

to the sandy shores between thighs

to the broad back that I still yearn for

to all of those who live surrendering to others

only You – only You

only you are fucking good – only you are good when fucked

it’s said about them that out of love for each other they were eating each other’s shit

others – out of indifference-comfort-hatred – are eating everybody’s shit

to miss life – to celebrate life

to live in vain – to kiss everybody

I give life to every poem

I am music of all beings

the music of buttocks with which You are walking through centuries

the music in each part of the body through which it witnesses the eternity

hey – I am eternity

etern me – marry me

eternity is constant one and only wedding of all beings

now is wedding of all beings to the one and only being

I’m licking Your soles

I’m nursing You with courage

marry me – etern me

I’m licking Your arse

through chaste words I chaste myself

through the navel of creation I’m liberating all beings

I lick Your ember

through millions of mild words to the blessing

I lick Your fears

I lick Your death

I immortalize You through licking

through

licking

through

little

sing-song

why does food and drink enter us through one place and gets out through two

but I won’t go on about that nor about anything else

two years ago I have read five beautiful books of poems by Aleksandar Ristovic

and I noticed that he often writes about bosoms. I gave books to Petar Miloradovic and I asked

him to take out the verses about bosoms. Petar did it. I made a bit different layout of the verses and...

let the Aleksandar Risovic’s bosoms sing

I saw for a second her large and round boobs and

wee curls under the armpits and her nearly scared face

mellow and large snowflakes are falling. our cousin is laying on the bed

and underneath her nightgown it’s clearly visible that she has big massive boobs

when I once entered the pantry where she was washing her face

she suddenly turned and since she was naked waist up I saw

that she had little, tiny boobs, like a wee girl

she was surprised and told me that I can keep the cigarette and smoke it to the end

she had large boobs, large bum and small hands with nails painted in scarlet red

under the colourful cover, her snow white feet with rosy toes

were protruding and, of course, when she would lift herself up to turn the page

of the book she was reading, her breast that would fall out through the notch on the shirt

I’m often overwhelmed by the love chill: I’m thinking of

some beautiful women who have very white breasts and faces

but since the window was high, she had to lean out very much: that much

that I could see her boobs protruding from her pink bra.

two buxom women are sitting in the kitchen with my granny. one can’t say which

one has bigger boobs. they are talking to my granny about rheumatism, cookie making

and of a man whose name I hear for the first time. they are leaning towards each other,

shaking their heads and their boobs are almost falling out of their bras

here, I give you away to that woman whose lips are like your bud,

and whose big boobs are decorated, on top of her clothes, with cheap ornaments

nuns are watching their boobs in a little mirror

naked from the waist up, they are showing moles to each other

there is, as well, one woman who doesn’t know me and who pretends

she doesn’t see me, even though I see well her big boobs, which have the ability to talk

and so, trying to reach one of the cards, I lean over the table,

while your lovely boobs are moving other the cards or knocking the glass down

certain girl, with strong boobs, is cooling herself with green hanky

I’m standing beside the table; I’m watching the one with big boobs

and whose red hat hardly covers a part of her hair

certain lady is offering him little bright objects: beadworks and

pearls and finally she shows him her large naked breast. and he sighs

I’m wiping your breasts, like lather, and your feet immersed

in rose oil that are shining with divine glow of child pastime

my father was playing violin every Saturday in a little inn

around the corner and after the concert he used to go to the room on the first floor

with a woman who would show him her breast whenever she would see me

I am that boy who is learning English in the room lit with

vermilion. little woman with breasts like two eggs is helping me

one could see her breasts, red knees, ribs and spine lines

snow is winnowing on our faces while we are reading little prayers

to each other. you in light clothes, with beautiful breasts and without a bra

her white breasts are ringing the alarm by beating

one against the other. underneath fine super fine silk

gabardine skirt, smell of goat’s blood, bosoms like two stormy clouds

one moment is left another is right breast falling out of her bra

a mirror has cracked. large breast is rubbing against the other large breast

her breasts are really appropriate to your witticisms.

Jean Paul Sartre is sobbing in his dream dreaming of his nanny with mammoth breasts

she has small breasts which are trembling underneath the silk shirt

her little breasts like two beads are visible in the mirror

she is holding little pen and a notebook in her hand. she’s got huge boobs

these are for real peasant’s dreams: huge boobs, wild lips, women working in the kitchen

I dedicate this bosom-writing to all beings that are still yearning for bosoms

this

is

a poem by

miroslav

mandic

one

and only

artist

poet

of all

beings

for the

first time

last

poem

in

every

moment

of eternity

for the

first time

last

time

to god

to you

bozidar

and

all

beings

always

and

forever

dear

two nights ago after forty eight years I’ve finished

anew reading of the book How the Steel Was Tempered. I recognised 

the influence that Pavel Korchagin the novel’s protagonist had on me

when I met yesterday with Bozidar Mandic he suggested we had lunch in

Pavel Korchagin restaurant. it was crowded there so we went to the 6 and 400 inn

on the ten white carton circles from which I was addressing Bozidar it was written

first time last time

God

You. Woman. resurrection. immortality. love. ID. all beings

poem. 360^o. 84600. one and only artist. the best one. eternal art

Bud. 1^st January 2010. Universe

without progeny. without property. without health

insurance. with no internship. without membership. without police

all of those I loved I love even more but without nostalgia

we are coming from God. the communist-fascist-liberal

most of the people become worse after giving birth to children

Ada Byron. Alan Turing

till the last moment of life dancing singing

and creating. woman. founder of Miroslav Mandic Museum

I wish that my death becomes joy to all beings. I wish that my ashes

are scattered over Danube on the Officer’s Beach in Novi Sad

over Titel Hill. over Sava on Branko’s Bridge in Belgrade

we have talked nicely and excitingly for five hours

this was our First Time Last Time meeting

I wish Bozidar long healthy and successful life

I would love to live dance sing and create for a long time

may it be Your will God

when I parted with Kaja eighteen years ago and went

down the street Kaja said to Bozidar his path is important not my death

I heard that for the first time yesterday

Kaja

Kaja dandelion

Kaja Goddess

after lunch I went into the rainy evening

I wished to share the excitement I had with

somebody. I thought of You. I tossed the coin asking

should I call You. the coin said yes. I called You. all the rest is pain

it’s cold. sun is shining

I’ll soon go outside

all beings are not dying because they endlessly love-kiss

poem

is

not

dying

because

it

constantly

love-kisses

after Kaja’s words his path is important not my death we spoke

over the phone and last words she told me were walk slowly and you will go far

Kaja Goddess

Kaja

Dandelion

here is the heart

it beats through tears

one heart is beating in all beings

all generalisations except the glorious ones are horrible

all people are generalising except for the ones that are singing

glorious generalisations are horrible as well but they carry freedom

in themselves through which everybody can liberate themselves from generalisation

all people are traumatised

all people feel their traumas as the greatest

traumatised people are traumatising other people the most

only few people get out of their traumas

even fewer people realise that trauma can be the source of greatest love

only that is what it’s all about

that’s what I’m telling You all these millions and millions of years

I saw and experienced a lot of misunderstandings

and that’s why I’m telling You in front of all beings

God I love-kiss You

I love-kiss only You my beloved

I love-kiss you all beings

I love-kiss You Miroslav Mandic’s poem

I love-kiss You Miroslav Mandic’s art

come

come – correct all misunderstandings – and turn them into great love

come – set Yourself free of traumas – love-kiss me

if You don’t want I will love You even more

and you can also get to fuck

God is love – I am an answer

love is God’s – responsibility is mine

I am love – You are an answer

love is mine – Yours is responsibility

last night I saw on television a story of fifty years old

woman who lived outdoors for three years sleeping on boards

covering herself with duvets and cartons. one man showed mercy and

gave her a trailer but the police came and told her she can’t stay there

journalist asked the woman what will she do and she answered crying

I’ll go back under the sky. most important thing for me is not to bother anybody

You for whom the most important thing is not to bother anybody You are

the greatest creator of roofs above heads of many people and beings

You are in my heart because only You are not bothering anybody

I bought canned peas mayonnaise hot peppers and book The Boys of Paul’s Street

I will start reading it tonight

I saw just now that one of the pencils that I keep together with

nib pens in a glass on the table has left a tiny trace on the wall

lips are walking

steps are kissing

everything is telling to each other I love-kiss You

nouns to pronouns. pronouns to adjectives. adjectives to

numbers. numbers to verbs. verbs to adverbs. adverbs to prepositions

prepositions to copulas. copulas to exclamations. exclamations to particles. particles to

nouns...

heart ripples

mind buzzes

ladybirds are flying round me

I feel nice with ladybirds – ladybirds feel nice with me

constant word-praising

gentile-return-gift

for the second time in my life I’m writing in front of Milica Bogosavljevic

she came with questions about the group Code

about which she will write her art history graduate work

I rejected her in order to love her even more

we shudder

we take an oath through fucking

we transform through love

I love-kiss You my friend

geese are flying through the sky

I admire You and I love-kiss You – Mira Dinar – my eighty-six-year-old-woman

I wanted to write about reasons because of which I refuse to

participate in participating but I feel like love-kissing and celebrating

Milica these blessings are my response to Your questions

it’s the same as when in the beginning of love I rejected love for the sake of love

when being twenty two in the beginning-end of art I rejected art for the sake of art

sanctity of fucking

God child God

poem God poem

singing is swearing

swearing is love-kissing

love-kissing God-being

Bogosavljevic through this God-celebrator-ic

(God in Serbian Bog, Serbian surnames are usually ending with “ic” prim. prev.)

anuses of all beings love-kiss lips of all beings

lips of all beings celebrate anuses through all beings

she surrendered herself to me to You my friend

dedicated to Slobodanka and Srbislav

a boy in the forest also carried a ladybird on his finger and he was singing to her

my most loyal unbeliever

dedicated to loyalty and the loyal ones