Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

when I’m alone I feel all beings

when I’m with You I feel myself

when I’m with God I feel You

circling

when I spread the margarine over the bread

when I feel through wind the landscapes through which the wind is blowing

when a child feels it for the first time

when a girl feels it for a first time

when a boy feels it for a first time

when Vladet Jerotic being eighty seven years old

publishes the book Non-drowsy God’s Eye in the Miracles of Nature

when maths joins discovering and singing the immortality

when I see Ludwig Wittgenstein’s face I see my face in youth

when everything I have learnt from Borges I swap for what I’m now learning from now

when a pussy gets moist love for thinking transforms into thinking of love

when a cock gets hard everything that is transforms into tenderness

when something somewhere I feel that something here

when highest branches are swinging towards deepest roots

when everything turns into everything and that’s how everything is protected

when I stop writing

when I start writing as if I’m writing for the first time

when it just blazes

blazes through Your heart

well You are I

You are a Tisa of my life

(Tisa is a river in Serbia and the name consists of “Ti” – “You” and “sa” – “with”, TN)

You are my river

a river to all the rivers

a river to the steps by which I flow

a river through which You flow towards me

a river through which I flow into You

sometimes it seems to me that You are music – tell me honestly are You the music

You are rippling

You are buzzing

I don’t know when I started getting old but from today I’m starting to write about my aging

disgust over myself when I was twenty six – when I felt how by getting

into mature years I’m losing the very last leftovers of innocence – which is why I

went towards the new innocence – here I pronounce the beginning of me getting old

it continued with the fear of death from

jaundice which happened to me when I was thirty two

with first glasses when I was thirty eight

with the age spots on my hands

with not jumping into water any more

with increase in dioptre. with prostate problems

with going to bed around midnight and not any more at two-three am

with hearing loss. grey hair. declining body’s resistance

with dentures. dry eyes. slower thinking. calcaneus

with first fear that I felt while walking pass aggressive young boys in the night

with less coffee. with traces of toothpaste on my clothes

with increased loneliness

but also through greater opening to the life itself. through

surrendering to love itself. through coexistence with all beings. beings of

goodness and beauty. beings of truth and freedom. through breathing God’s grace

aging is more sexual than sexuality in puberty

I am god

sexuality

of sameness

today’s poem from the book I am You are I

following of the heart and mind

mystical oneness of all beings

every year on 26^th October in twentieth

blessing of that day I write in Miroslav Mandic

Robert Walser

name

is

a

poem

walt

whitman

fuckable

of the fuckable

fuckable

to the fuckable

charming

incorruptibility

I enjoy in You my friend

I just can’t get enough of You my beloved

beloved life

poem

my

lover

You are my You-are-I

beloved

You-a

one vision for planet Earth

one man with the vision for planet Earth

I Am One And Only Vision Of Love And Non-Violence

Of All Beings On The Planet Earth For All Beings In The Universe

I am the boogie-woogie singer from eleventh century

I am the abstract painter from second century

I am the author of computer games from ninth century BC

Billie Evans From Burnt Grass Statijatin Roy Bin

with smaller and smaller vocabulary but with

greater and greater understanding of each word

with greater and greater love for each word

with greater and greater sex with each word

with greater and greater identification with each word

words are miracles of free of charge

as well as colours

as well as numbers

as well as pictures

as well as rhythms

as well as melodies

as well as movements

free of charge is the vision of freedom

Antonio das Mortes

great grape cluster in the hand

lake in the eye

pear tea

innocence life

through innocent language

through interwoven soul

through atom of mind

you

and

me

are

atom

I love to sing with two words

path-like rose

rose-like path

with one

bud

I dwell through street and landscapes

I dwell in each blues

I dwell in each whore

I dwell in each runaway child

I dwell in a rainbow over the earth

I dwell in mystical experience that anybody ever experienced

I dwell in ideals

I dwell in sanctity of homelessness

I dwell in Your loyalty

I dwell in the mandarin You sent me

I dwell in 33 hundred dinars banknotes

which You gave me and through which You prayed for me

I dwell in the state of poem

if I only speak that’s a poem

if I make a step that’s a poem

if I take a look it’s a poem

I dwell I mind

I dwell in each sent message that with the slogan 1% has addresses,

99% has messages the rest 99% are sending addressing the 1% of the rich

I dwell in the pineal gland of the Universe

I dwell in one and only body in which all bodies are without borders

I dwell in Miroslav Mandic one and only home to all beings

Miroslav Mandic Dwelling is solidarity of each being with all beings

Miroslav Mandic Dwelling is a notion of a house which shelters all homeless ones

Miroslav Mandic Dwelling is a notion of homelessness which liberates the homely ones

Miroslav Mandic Dwelling is a chain of shelters

which spreads throughout the infinity and eternity

I dwell in this little shop in which the tall scrawny and polite woman is serving

I dwell in women flower sellers

I dwell in each girl and boy which are walking on their own

I dwell with everyone who is alone

I dwell in everyone who has buried his or her ego and lives with the joy of grass

I dwell through warm and deep voice of Johnny Cash

I dwell in a snail’s house and an eagle’s nest

I dwell in those two bags which I made when I was twenty

six or seven so that they would be the measure of poetical dwelling

I dwell in Hölderlin’s words poetically man dwells on this earth

the best definition of dwelling forever

instead of progeny I leave to progeny

Miroslav Mandic

poet of all beings

one and only artist of one and only art

walker of one and only God

lover of all beings

while I was going up Ljeska street it opened up to me

man of God is God-Man

God

God of man is Man-God

wow that’s so good

man of monkey is monkey-man

monkey of man is man-monkey

words themselves are telling who is who

man of Man is Man-man

Man of man is man-man

freedom

I am

to cucumbers

love is one

love of all beings within me

if You love me You love all beings

if You love-kiss me You have surrendered to each being within me

to dandelions

to words joy of pussy and joy of cock

which one woman wrote today between her legs

to words unreasonableness and insouciance

which another woman wrote on her breasts

to words dancing and singing which the third woman wrote on her back

rejoice Mother of God within me

rest – reborn

throw Yourself with beauty towards the goodness

every word that I write is a poem if it hits You in the heart

with each word I sing You if I tremble in Your brain

with each word I wander through Your spine rejoicing all beings within You

Goddess

with each word I make You immortal my immortal one

morning delight

it’s more and more delightful

Bud of All Beings is mystical fuckability of all of these that forgave

yesterday’s definition of the Bud of All Beings

on Sundays I’m surrendering to God

on Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday I’m writing for

Sunday in which I’m singing for Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday

writing is continuation

non-stopping

a creation of heroines and hero in Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic is heroines and hero of Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic creates Miroslav Mandic who is his hero

Miroslav Mandic sings Miroslav Mandic who is his heroines

Miroslav Mandic walks Miroslav Mandic one and only Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic is art of good-remembrance

music of youth in the hoofs of a horse

youth of music gallops through the freedom of love

in nine days it will be twenty years from the beginning of the Rose of Wandering

never again

I love-kiss You Edgar Allan Poe

let’s forgive and say goodbye

a hymn of light

You are a tiny salve to the tiny one

You are a tiny mother to all beings

whenever words are not love-kissing the words are not-understanding

words are not for understanding but for love-kissing

for oaks

for willows

for wriggling

for meandering

for Knifer’s rubbing

rub don’t rub

I am a mine of eternity

a shop full of unrealized wishes

how harsh You are my tenderness

I say to the Tender-Woman

You’re not calling me

I’m telling You

in spite with delight