Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is again first of June

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is walking over the abyss of the first of June

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is youth of the first of June

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

is walking naked in the rain of the first of June

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

is celebrating everything that exists with the first of June

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

are ecstatic definitions of art of the first of June

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom are

fuckable definitions of the one and only sex – sex of God life and art

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is the story I’m walking

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is the fairy-tale I’ creating

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is the poem I’m singing

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is hey walking in the fairy-tale of freedom

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom hey fairy-tale in the freedom of singing

again first of June

miracle

a miracle of the first of June

every June

every month

every moment

cloudy and warm day

I’m under the impression of the abyss which

I experienced in the encounter with two close persons

I’m also under the impression of this morning’s encounter with torture

I asked myself should I base today’s definitions of art

on the abyss torture or again first of June

I’ve chosen again first of June

again first of June I created in glory of the beauty of repetition

world of transiency

I’m watching this grass and I feel again first of June

everything in this world is meaningless until

there are tortures but there is also again first of June

everything in this world is meaningless until there is

an abyss among close ones but there is also again first of June

when I just think of the horror that tortured people are going through…

when I just think of the horror that people who are torturing are going through…

nothing in this world is worth until the torture is protected by the state

abyss is love because it protects love and lovers from false love

abyss means that one day a day will dawn without

a day and that’s why again first of June is joy and salvation

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is this

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

are 229,945 people who have seen this until now

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom are beauty and goodness in this

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is the rhythm of freedom in this

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is the freedom itself in this

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom are You

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom are only You

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom are my tears on Your face

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is every cell within You and within me

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is my freedom in Your freedom

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is every youngling within me

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is one is more than all people together

this continues

it will never stop

runaway child is good child

runaway child is eternal child

child of all beings

runaway child is a mother and a father to each cell in all beings

runaway child is a promised land

runaway child has ran away because it wants to save the world

grass is fragrant so are field flowers in the grass

camomile

milfoil

patient St. John’s Worth

bitter absinth

Miroslav Runaway Child Mandic

more and more so I see what I see

more and more so I love-kiss everybody I love-kiss

more and more so I am all beings that I am

let’s go once again

more and more so I see what I see

more and more so I love-kiss everybody I love-kiss

more and more so I am all beings that I am

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is identification with those I love

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is through mother’s body

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is through father’s cosmic soul

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is through the logos of a child

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

is a sparrow which flattered in front of my face

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

is a pigeon which is walking through the grass

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is everything that is

for the first time and everything is always-forever only for the first time

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is a spark

of freedom with which every struggle for freedom begins

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom

is smell of the mowed grass which is already drying

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is milk of all beings and it’s called freedom

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is freedom to freedom

freedom constantly radiates with freedom and is constantly moving towards freedom

Art is freedom – occupy-wash with freedom is

today’s washing for the occupy-wash with freedom

another 144 definitions of art are behind me

I caress You with freedom

I sing You with freedom

i am god

warm morning

eighty sixth

kaja’s birthday

today’s i am god poem

eighty sixth birthday of the girl that gave birth to me

who became a mother of all beings

who created beauty of this day

who transformed in every word of mine

I through mother’s body

I through father’s cosmic soul

I through the logos of a child

hey paths

hey roses

dance-sing

we are one I

I’m walking over the pebbles

going down towards the water

that small big thing – getting into the water and surrendering to it

bathing in the sun and water is indescribably beautiful

exactly that

You feel

we won’t be fucking around

I

adore

this

song

I found out yesterday about Hasil Adkins

I was dancing on the song she said in 2003-2004 but I didn’t know he was singing it

packaging is bullshit

carriers are nothingness

families banal

states terror

hey

hey

poem

is

I tenderly banged into the air

I’m going down the five steps

I won’t be taking photos of them any more

every step is celebration of live

every blessing is celebration of writing

every writing celebration of singing

i’m

dancing

you

my

singing

through trembling of leaves whole world is healing and dancing

trembling does much more to the world than the world to trembling

trembling trembles

caressing caresses

I’m inhaling the air full of linden fragrance

dedicated to a friend about which another friend told me this morning that I made her sad

ever since I was twenty one when I broke away with

film with studies and art being disgusted with everything or

what they were leading to and boding and yearning for something much

higher and complete only sometimes for a moment somebody was close to me

for forty one year I’ve been alone on this path

path

rose

I rarely have relationships with people

relationships are not love – love is a state

a dog is eating grass

pain in my stomach almost completely stopped

whoever You are wherever You are whenever You are

I love-kiss You with this cold wind

may You be

it

drizzles

i’m walking

rainy curtain has

lifted up over the lake

tender lullaby that’s what i am

I’m standing wet under the eaves and waiting for the rain to stop

I’m really getting very wet in the rain

it’s God’s glory

the art of getting wet in the rain

today is Milomir’s ninety first birthday

I can still see him like a boy running through wavy meadows

Milomir boy father of all fathers

child father

Milomir has faced me with death early in life through his suicide

he planted a seed of immortality in me

Milomir my friend

the moment I got out of my building the fragrance of pink roses has struck me

wind caressed me and got underneath my clothes

warm air has embraced me

wind is humming

green leaves are trembling

sun light is refracting through trembling

everybody

is

immortal

the

sky

is

singing

enough is exciting enough

hey

everything

is

poem

hey

that’s

you

singing

within

me

today I will finish the last of 66 pictures in glory of numbers

I was drawing them for four hundred sixty seven days

around thousand hours of work

goodness in glory of the beauty of numbers

we feel nice

permeated we permeate

love-kissed we love-kiss

just cluster beauty just cluster

now

is

now

now

is

forever

moment

is

everything

everything

is

moment

when You experience that everything depends

only from one and only being well that’s Miroslav Mandic

when You experience that everything depends

from all beings well that’s Miroslav Mandic Walking

when You experience that everything depends

from anybody well that’s Miroslav Mandic Art

when You experience that everything depends

only from God that’s Miroslav Mandic Is Singing

66 pictures of the Numbers are behind me

I took photo of them

some of them are beautiful some less beautiful

I believe that only altogether are magical

like in many other works of mine all 66 pictures are

making one picture. Numbers. dimensions are 1 x 11.55 metres

let’s go

miroslav

I’m doing water. I’m a plumber – says a man to an older woman

I’m doing moments. I’m a momenter

weaver of moments

I’m doing unbuttoning of my shirt. I’m an unbuttoner

shirt is on one shoulder sun on the other

I’m doing sun. I’m a suner

I’m doing entirety. I’m an entiretyer

I’m doing play. I’m a player

only sometimes I’m doing rhymes. I’m only sometimes a rhymer

I’m doing trees. I’m a treeser

I love doing everything I am and I don’t like doing what I’m not

I’m watching an old man who is sunbathing and putting t-shirt on his head

I’m doing him

I was doing cities on the Rose of Wandering

from doing cities came out director of cities

from the director of cities both director of money and director of love

I’m doing directing. I’m a director of doing

I’m watching white clouds. I’m smiling at them. I’m doing them

I’m doing Your eyes on these words

I’m doing the flow in Your body

I’m doing surrendering. I’m a surrenderer

I’m doing smile. I’m a smiler

I’m doing winking. I’m a winker

I’m doing modesty. I’m a modester

I’m doing the existence. I’m an existencer

I’m doing the beginning. I’m a beginninger

I’m doing the bud. I’m a bud

I’m doing Miroslav Mandic. I’m Miroslav Mandic

I saw her by chance

I got excited

rejoiced

suddenly approached

kissed her hand

carried on without words

I saw everything on her face

a white butterfly is flying in front of me now

in front of the pastry shop Vladimir Macura wasn’t waiting

for me as agreed but to my greatest surprise Dagmar Moser was there

we haven’t seen each other for three years

we walked in the hot sun

we drank water

we drank each other and we parted

I carried on to the lake

I ate an ice-cream with Mirjana in the tree shade

I was swimming

I stopped in the woods and listened to a blackbird singing

deeper in the woods an answer could be heard

they were singing to each other

blessings are also chirping

twenty one kilometre that I walked today

tiredness holiness

innocence of tiredness

before I accidentally saw her Nada called me

we’ll see each other on Sunday

we haven’t seen each other for five years

afterwards while walking with Dagmar I saw Lazar Stojanovic

sun was really strong

it was beautiful in the water

I easily spotted a blackbird

I saw it opening its beak while singing

I’m chirping

You’re chirping

Ever since the financial crisis began no one talks about

the ecological crisis and the energy crisis. We have exceeded the

limits of the planet long ago. The way we live and consume, is untenable

Jon Aguirre one of the initiators of the Indignados movement

We are facing a new era. Revolutions have always developed

through three phases: technological change, social change, and ultimately

political change. The political structures are the most conservative. The power is in

their hands after all. Technological change that has led to the French Revolution was

the invention of printing by Gutenberg. Centuries have passed until the awareness of

the common class that overthrew the political system was created.With the October

Revolution it was the steam engine and the Industrial Revolution that have led to a

change in the relations of production. Finally came the coup in Russia. In other

countries the Social Democrats were created.

Jon Aguirre

Technological change of our era is the internet. It is a revolutionary invention

that changed the way we are connecting to each other. At the same time we are

experiencing a social transformation. Traditional family is not there anymore. There

are single parents of either sex, homosexual couples with children, patchwork

families and so on. The old, patriarchal, hierarchical structure model is in

crisis. This social change will gradually bring about political change.

How will it look like, nobody knows.

But one thing is sure, it is inevitable.

Jon Aguirre

technological change

social change

political change

last few days I’ve been thinking about it

on my opinion changes occur in this way

first comes the spiritual change

then the artistic

and sexual

only after that are coming

technological social and political change

let leave it on this for today

by the way news is what somebody

somewhere wants to suppress; all the rest is advertising

by the way as well – failures of the one man who is more than all people

together are worth more than all successes of the most successful ones

failures of Miroslav Mandic are worth even more than

the failures of the one man who is more than all people together

I have three photos of roses on my desktop

the rose of beauty in my brain

the rose of goodness in my lungs

the rose of health in my stomach

I took the photo of them in front of the building I’m living in

they are waterfalls

freshness of blood

harmony through agreeing

what the nape does to the crown of the head

I’m drinking them

inhaling

the roses

they are taking me

transforming

they are intertwining

g

o

o

d

b  e  a  u  t  i  f  u  l

d

o

o

g

joy of writing

walking through writing

creating through writing

singing through writing

beauty of statement

goodness of principle

moving away

rippling of blessings

going outside right away

I made a little circle with Maja

I’m getting drawn into the words again

words are miracle

they are beings

every word I write You feel

that blue is blue

that soft is soft

that innocence is sexual

I’m feeling good with words

we are dancing

jumping around

Leni Riffenstal being very old is diving and touching big eagle rays

love doesn’t know of the species’ boundaries

only love between species will save the world

few days ago I saw tattooed tree on one girl’s back

Marta has tattooed tree on her chest

Mina on her hand

I love

just loving

sawing words

fertilize with words

give birth to a rose

walk through rose

word path

yesterday was Monday

today is Tuesday

tomorrow will be Wednesday

I’m a bit sad

sadness is an ebb tide of joy

I’m thinking of chamois

cold wind is blowing over mountain tops and plants

it’s time I walk my yearning

surrender to walking

from an old piece of paper with notes I’m rewriting

morning of rhythms

morning of analogies

morning of associations

morning of repetition

I threw away the piece of paper with mornings

only to draw the Blue Rose and I’m going outside

I’m walking – walking grace

I’m walking slowly – slow walking is miracle

maybe I will have a swim for Miroslav Mandic

I took off my shoes – barefooted I’m meandering through my brain

while I’m walking over the grass and soil as if I’m walking over the infinity

I swam for him

I’m walking for him over this earthen path through the grass

Miroslav Mandic helped me a lot of times and

I always feel good when I can help Miroslav Mandic

a friend to a friend

friendship is my friend

a rooster is crowing in the woods

flies and butterflies are flying

I’m caressing the skin on my back with thoughts

I’m caressing my stomach with thoughts

greenery is green on its own

if raspberries were cheaper…

I respect everybody who spend less than they have

everybody who spend more than they have are thieves

everybody who have more than they need are killers

precursors of war

a dog attacked me so when I was backing down I’ve hurt my anyway painful heel

since it already is Wednesday let it be Wednesday

the morning of a smile

today is Fernando Pessoa’s birthday

Steve Jobs has fell asleep last night

I finished reading Steve Jobs’ biography last night that finished a beautiful way

One sunny afternoon, when he wasn’t feeling well, Jobs sat in

the garden behind his house and reflected on death. He talked about

his experiences in India almost four decades earlier, his study of Buddhism,

and his views on reincarnation and spiritual transcendence. I’m about fifty-fifty on

believing in God, he said. For most of my life, I’ve felt that there must be more to our

existence than meets the eye. He admitted that, as he faced death, he might be

overestimating the odds out of a desire to believe in an afterlife. I like to think

that something survives after you die, he said. It’s strange to think that you

accumulate all this experience, and maybe a little wisdom, and it just goes away.

So I really want to believe that something survives, that maybe your consciousness

endures. He fell silent for a very long time. But on the other hand, perhaps it’s

like an on-off switch, he said. Click! And you’re gone. Then he paused again

and smiled slightly. Maybe that’s why I never liked to put

on-off switches on Apple devices.

just like an iMac which goes to sleep when you leave it

softly

seamlessly

one page before the last one he also said That’s what I always tried to do – keep

moving. Otherwise, as Dylan says, if you’re not busy being born, you’re busy dying.

I’m waiting for the washing machine repair man

abrupt transitions within oneself also contain tenderness

p

o

e

m

l

i

k

e

itself

warm wind is carrying the smell of dried up hay

dazed from the heat young children are sleeping in the shade

repair man is working in the bathroom

washing machine is sometimes taking the water in and sometimes not

yesterday I was swimming for the first time with great new swim glasses

I would like to write the blessings while the

repair man is still working and then go to walk

I would like to but the only thing I can write is that I cannot write anything

I’m waiting for the writing

while waiting for the writing I’m thinking of many things

I’m finding it harder and harder because I cannot write anything but I’m also

finding it more and more beautiful because it makes me aware that writing is miracle

equation

joy of grace

hot pebbles

warmth that reflects the light over a plain

wastelands

I am indocile

(in Serbian words wastelands and indocile have the same root pustara and pust, prim. prev.)

grown up without the father

adopted by wastelands

horizontal in constant circling

blue heavenly balls

of dried burdocks

of the quiet lighting up

miroslav

mandic

sings

miroslav

mandic

there are no contradictions

You’re recognising my writing. You’re recognising me through my writing

isn’t it so

my stomach is bothering me and I’m bothering my stomach with fears

my stomach is one of the few great squares in my body

my

body

is

yours

my

body

your

body

is

body

of

immortality

is

in

one

body

immortality

of

body

is

in

all

bodies

sing

to

us

poem

poem

is

tiny

tiny

is

raspberry

(in Serbian the difference between these two words is only in one letter “malena” – “malina”, T.N.)

raspberry

is

grace

(same as previous, only this time it’s “malina” – “milina”, T.N.)

poem

grace

is

little

poem

great

life

little

poem

soul

of

universe

i am god

creation is

above the law

singing is

without law

today’s poem i am god

everything yearns for change and almost everybody resist to the change

resisting legislates

petrifies

change is creation

creation creates change

creation is above the law

singing is without the law

poem is unpredictable and a home to all beings is

poem is unprotected and warmth to everyone is

i’m

singing

takeaway

poems

You put a poem in Yourself and You feel better

poem

is

my

love-kissing

my

poem

love-kisses

me

my

poem

love-kisses

you

miroslav

mandic

poem

sings

god

when I get outside it’s as if I’m getting into the paradise

air actually is paradise

warm sun on the skin actually is paradise

smell of just mowed grass actually is paradise

sun warmth makes me cry from grace

I’m spreading

I’m walking nowhere

I’m breathing in the air

I’m thinking it

I’m a poet of the air

we are wandering through the Universe

it’s invisible

free of charge

it gets in and gets out of body

it feeds and gives drink

it’s in the wind

in trembles

night one that comes through the window

fresh morning one

ozonous after the rain

sharp winter one

carried by the wind

swirled by the change of temperature

full of smells of plants

filled with smells of animals

hovering in the candle flame

it’s so important that nobody notices it

unnoticed it becames a lover of the unnoticed

through fucking – I’m heavenly breathing

through breathing I’m paradise

breath me

breath me my soul

breath me my only one

poem is created by the one who listens to poem

I’m coming back after swimming through the woods and I’m

thinking if I’ve so far written the word filly in the Miroslav Mandic book

fillies on the run

fillies are foaling beauty

fillies are shelters of winds and stallions

fillies doves

fillies are foaling good horses and good people

I can see that today I won’t move away from filly

she is sniffing the air

with the beauty of her nostrils

she stares with her big eyes

she swings her tail

open space opens her up

she swallows water

she is defecating while running

filly is running over the sea waves

poem

through

affirmation

changes

everything

filly smells of her stallion

filly reads beloved poet

filly transforms

filly is all in thighs and tendons

sparrows are landing on her back

her teeth are beautiful

her neck is buckled

she cocked her ears

she prays with her body – she loves with her eyes

sky is looking over her

smells of grass are dazzling her

she lies in the grass

filly

lives

through

foaling

filly

foals

life

filly

foals

foal

poem is sung by the one who love-kisses poem

every profession has its own language

with the language of profession it excludes itself from the whole

it is trying to impose itself on the whole

I don’t have a profession

I am the language

language of singing

singing of language

I sing and serve the whole itself

the whole in each detail

the whole in every being

today it will be ten thousand kilometres of walking the Bud of Walking

at one moment around eighth kilometre I will take a photo of the 14.285.714^th step

steps of singing

another thirty thousand kilometres in front of me

heats are coming

on such day I walked ten thousandth kilometre

witness Djordje Lukic

my loyal modesty

unsung gratitude

just step by step

word by word

through silence

through singing

through love-kissing

for few days now I’m listening music on the radio station Radio Moka and I’m enjoying

I’m reading Brigitte Bardot’s autobiography and I’m enjoying

I love to learn from one man and through one man

one man tells me so much more than countless number of people

every

poem

sings

all

poems

it’s touching that every poem sings all poems

cooked wheat dill sauce and tomatoes are waiting for me

I’m caressing my back

patiently waiting for today’s 33 blessings to gracefully and unnoticeably run out

and run into You even more gracefully and unnoticeably

this morning I got an e-mail that disturbed me

group Code…

when I was going for a swim and after the

swimming I was answering through blessings on that e-mail

but I don’t feel like writing about it

maybe tomorrow

I don’t feel like writing about the movement Disgusted about which I was thinking

I don’t know if such movement ever existed

water was so lovely

nettles were lovely

young Gipsy was singing on the forest path

the heath is stronger and stronger

everybody is unique and in such way confirming the sameness

everyone who doesn’t believe in their own

uniqueness but wants to be even more unique is false

that’s exactly how elite art arises

that’s how all people’s arrogance and horrors arise

that’s how kitsch and terror of big nations arise

that’s how the death of civilisation arises

hey drops of water on my body

hey waves of water to which I was surrendering

light on the nettles

little Gypsies who I adore

Gypsies on the edge of the city who I deeply respect

sweet fruit

supple cereals

wheat is ripening

soon will be harvesting

in two days summer is coming

in the evening I will go once more for a swim

with each inhale I’m bowing down to the life itself

i’m

calling

you

singing

dancing

we

are

dancing

let’s

love-kiss

love-kissing

i’m

cheering

to

you

poem

t

h

r

e

a

d

s

o

f

p

o

e

m

i’m god

my goodness

everything within you

beautiful

is

I wrote this poem last night while I was coming back through the forest in the evening

sometimes I perceive the first blessing like

a hand of one arm and the last one like a hand of the other arm

all other blessings are spreading the hands into an embrace

boys transform into old men

girls into old women

old men into boys

old women into beautiful girls

poem

is

always

young

goodness never becomes obsolete

beauty is eternal

today as well I won’t be writing blessings

concerning yesterday’s e-mail that disturbed me

I won’t be writing them tomorrow either

tomorrow is summer

agreeing is everything

everything that is not agreeing is sadness and nothingness

the nature of a cock is in the cock of goodness

the nature of a pussy is in the pussy of beauty

wind in the full sails

heat is rolling over the streets

horses within me are sleeping

essence is without compromises

one is love

I love repeating the love is one

I love repeating everything that I’m repeating

through repeating I’m becoming everything that I’m repeating

poem

embrace

poem

of

love-kissing

poem

embrace

embraces

the

poem

of

love-kissing

poem

of

love-kissing

love-kisses

the

poem

embrace

I’m embracing You with blessings

let’s embrace with blessings and embraces

we are the embrace of all beings

i’m god

my beauty

everything within you

good

is

I wrote this poem as well last night while I was coming back through the forest in the evening

my

dear

Ramo

last

night

started

summer

enjoy

it

I’m listening

and

beginning

to

write

today’s

blessings

and

to read

the text

about

dear

to us

Walser

which you sent me

through the spring

of heart

and

summer

of mind

I

love-kiss

you

my

Ramo

summer letter to a friend

I just finished drawing the Blue Rose and recorded it

at the beginning of a two hundredth tape of the Blue Film

two hundred hours of the Blue Film

God’s glory

beauty of circling

beauty of the cosmic blueness

of the God’s name

I’m God’s gory

I’m sixty three

I’m more and more alone

more and more powerless

but also with greater hope faith and love

love love love

with enlarged ideals of youth

with all beings

with Miroslav Mandic Walking

with Miroslav Mandic Creating

with Miroslav Mandic Singing

if I were young again I sing even more now Miroslav Mandic fucks everybody’s mother

now I am and that’s why every moment I’m creating

Miroslav Mandic is everybody’s mother

it may seem to You that I’m repeating too much

but without repetition there is no goodness nor beauty

the best one isn’t among the best ones

the best one sings one and only poetics

best ones are living countless number of poetics

I’m going outside

and when sometimes I see her, in my eyes, how she

approaches me in blue dotted skirt, I then immediately go

not wanting the loneliness to catch me in the place, while standing

from the book No, I Don’t Believe This Sentence Cannot Be Heard

Ivana was yesterday a witness of my struggle about

the e-mail from few days ago and the resolution that happened

with Milica’s text message and that’s why I don’t feel like writing about it

Violeta was today a witness of a resurrection that didn’t

happened even though I am the resurrection more and more

I adore plain

resurrection of a resurrection

I’m disgusted with banal

everything that isn’t resurrection is banal

everything that isn’t agreement is sadness and nothingness

essence doesn’t compromise

yes God

freedom yes

yes

God

freedom

three words of a one word

freedom-god-yes

(in Serbian “freedom” is “sloboda”, “god” is “bog”, and “yes” is “da”. inserting “g” in the word

“sloboda” makes a wordplay – “slobogda”, which is untranslatable, but has this meaning, T.N.)

freedom-god-yes sings me

freedom-god-gives I’m singing You

let’s go freedom-god-yes

freedom in God God in freedom is

it’s Saturday

beaches on the lake are full of people

yesterday I spent magnificent time with my Nada Petronijevic-Covic after five years

I enjoyed

I enjoyed in Nada

I really love to enjoy in the other

agreeing is everything

word is the same

in the spider web between two trees dry leaves have been caught

meeting with Nada has been confirmation of the word freedom

clean after swimming I’m taking off the shirt

on the forest path to carry on bathing in the air

I’m walking slowly – I’m bathing in slowness

I’m calming down – I’m bathing in tenderness

I’m thinking about You – I’m bathing in the one

there is a butterfly – it is freedom

they say that the heat will decrease a bit these days

they say there might be showers as well

I love-kiss sayers

sayers are bridlers with which one bridles the feelings of people

I remember when I was a kid how I enjoyed

farmers who were carefree and easily holding bridles in their

big calm hands while going back on carts with horses from the fields

while I was walking a minute ago through the crowd of people on the

lake I remembered how when I was young after coming out of the jail I felt that I was

invisible that feeling of invisibility has been guarding me and saved me. same as today

few days ago I shaved my head and now I have to

wear a hat so that the crown of my head doesn’t get burnt

they say that there is only five thousand sparrows left in Belgrade

I hear them across the road in the forest

my beloved sparrows

if I didn’t stop eating meat when I was twenty three I would have been

killing myself every day hating myself and in the end I would have killed myself

sparrows just carry on twittering

freedom-god-gives twitter

I’m caressing You with my goose bumped skin

I’m coming back from swimming

on my way back I picked up 33 twitters