Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

    You
    are

    416909

    bud

    LJILJI NADEZHDA JULIAN MISSISSIPPI NIKOLAI

    2923. day
    1st January 2013


    i am god

    god i recognised

    you last night on the toilet seat

    while i was thinking about the boy ljilji

    and his father who killed himself yesterday

    it was the same arch-consciousness

    which i experienced in jail

    which i also felt

    the when my

    father killed

    himself

    today’s poem i am god

     

     

    immortality is the only job

    this is the beginning

     

    dying dying for the sake of immortality

    of the book

     

    immortality is here

    Miroslav M

     

    it’s waiting

     

    I’m walking

     

    Nadezhda is locked up

     

    Julian is locked up

     

    milky sun

     

    I covered my nose

     

    I’m thinking about the letter of love which I will write to the one and only girl-friend-male

    I’m thinking about the letter of love which I will write to the one and only male-friend-girl

     

    I’m thinking about the text for the green Coffees of Courage which I should write

     

    fog is coming down

     

    everybody left me

    God

     

    God is love

     

    everybody will come back to me

    God

     

    God is serenity

     

    God is being left through birth and dying

     

    God is came back to through love and immortality

     

    God are the rejected ones

     

    God are the locked up ones

     

    God is orgasm

     

    Mississippi John Hurt

     

    blues

     

    Nikolai Fyodorov

     

    freedom

     

    hips of twisting

     

    meekness of meandering

     

    babe

     

    shake it shake it

     

    my cosmic innocence

     

    each cell is sexual worker in the mission of love

    for the particles of the One and Only Language of All Being

     

    Hymn of Freedom of All Beings to the Vow of Love and Immortality

     



     

    IT IS

    2924. day
    2nd January 2013


    wow

     

    how

     

    this

     

    is

     

    beautiful

     

    I cannot even describe it

     

    nor what it is

     

    nor who it is

     

    nor how it is

     

    but

     

    it is

     

    here’s where it’s hitting me

     

    in the nape

     

    it goes down the spine

     

    see how they’re spreading their wings

     

    and this up there

     

    opaque

     

    dark

     

    that

     

    over there

     

    some

     

    certain

     

    somebody

     

    constant flyover

     

    leaves which are absent but which will appear

     

    maybe it’s a womb

     

    one and only

     

    womb in which we are

     

    a womb in which everything is

     

    a womb without black holes in the Universe

     

    the very God

     

    nothing yet created

     

    God only

     


     

    I’M SHIVERING

    2925. day
    3rd January 2013


    blues is bestrewing me since this morning

     

    I live in music

     

    in mystics of mystic

     

    I’m bathing in music

     

    music is sisterhood and brotherhood of all beings

     

    legs are flying

     

    hips are swaying

     

    belly is butterflying

     

    chests are exciting

     

    shoulders opening up

     

    neck twisting

     

    head surrendering

     

    hands caressing

     

    eyes merging

     

    foreboding of immortality

     

     

    god’s

    heart

    beats

    through

    music

     

     

    music saves from self-misery and imposed slavery

     

    it wakes up from stuffiness and lifts up the desperate ones

     

    life on its own is magnificent

     

    people make it horrible

     

    state violence is unbearable

     

    what do I do for that to change

     

    how to live and not die of shame

     

    I’m drawing the Blue Rose – it dawned on me

     

    not opposing the evil

     

    love-kissing those who are opposing evil because they are the only innocent ones

     

    love-kissing those who are doing evil because

    they don’t know that they are killing their own children

     

    love-kiss Miroslav love-kiss

     

    with

    your

    legs

    hips

    belly

    chests

    shoulders

    neck

    head

    hands

    eyes

     

     

    with the finger in the mouth of a bystander

     

    shiver Miroslav shiver

     

    shiver over the life of each being

     

    shiver like a candle flame

     


     

    BEFORE THE EVENT

    2926. day
    4th January 2013

     

    I’m going

     

    there is no

     

    coming back

     

    that’s that

     

    crooning

     

    reduced

     

    the skin of words

     

    pulse

     

    pulse is beating

     

    burs

     

    I’m tenderly thinking about the juice of a cactus

     

    the sun is coming out

     

    from there to here

     

    from here to there

     

    nodes

     

    tree rings

     

    grapes of existence

     

    wipe your mouth

     

    tenderness melts away these words

     

    it springs

     

    ripples

     

    I’m warming up these words with the warmth of my body

     

    I’m smiling at the words of one poet which are warning me

     

    not opposing the evil is complete absence of the support for evil

     

    absence of conformism and indifference

     

    absence of existing world

     

    leaves that are carried by the wind are rushing towards me

     

    through writing I’m creating new readers

     

    yet never created being

     

     

    you

    are

    all

    in

    me

    god

     

     

    you

    are

    my

    poem

     

     

    i’m

    serving

    you

    only

    through

    you

    am

    i

    free

     

     

    i’m

    love-kissing

    you

    only

    through

    you

    am

    i

    love-kissing

     


     

    ART WHICH SAVES

    2927. day
    5th January 2013


    the art of salvation is in the salvation of art

     

    the salvation of art in the art which saves

     

    in boy’s whistling

     

    incorruptibility of an author by author’s rights

     

    I am an author and I care for authorship but not for author’s rights

     

    the best one cares for authorship and the best ones for author’s rights

     

    I care for authorship because of the admiration for all authors

     

    so that I would enable authorship to yet unborn ones

     

    so that I can walk create sing

     

    art of salvation in the salvation of art

     

    in swearwords

     

    because they are protecting the spirit

    of the time from the fashion of the time

     

    because I despise the system and it’s polite society

     

     

    because swearwords are resistance

    and distance from school and university

     

    because they are innocence and grace in Miroslav Mandic book

     

    because they are the discovery of live goodness of language

     

    because they are the revelation of language

     

    salvation of art in the art which is saving

     

    God

     

    inexhaustible source of live life

     

    each event which is more than life

     

    immortal work which is more than life

     

    only through God everything is everything

     

    only through God You are You

     

    only through God sex is love

     

    only through God money are angels

     

    only through God a word is already a very poet

     

    only through God a poet is instantly eternal word

     

    only in this wind God is God

     

     

    only

    in

    only

    alone

    is

    not

    lonely

     

     

    writing one word is more miraculous than writing a poem

    singing one word is harder than writing thousands of novels

     

     

    only

    through

    god

    am

    i

    one

    and

    only

    god

     

     

    i am god

    in you i see

    myself and you see

    in me that i am

    god

    today’s poem i am god

     


     

    198 COFFEES OF COURAGE

    2929. day
    7th January 2013


    green

     

    orgasmic

    orgasm stimulates the brain more than any other human activity

     

    immortal

     

    half of the heart which is seeking the other half

     

    elegant

     

    winding

     

    198 coffees of courage for one better and braver world of all beings

     

    198 coffees of courage is the art work which consists of

     

    coffee of courage – that glorious name

     

    198 drawings of the cup of coffee on the front page of the white envelope

     

    money for the coffee in the envelope

     

    today’s 33 blessings

     

    photo of the coffee of courage on the web-site miroslavmandic.name

     

    number of the coffee of courage on the back of the envelope

     

    Miroslav Mandic Signature

     

    coffee of courage is the coffee You go to drink and

    while drinking it You come up with certain brave decision

     

    brave decision for which You know that is

    important and which will bring You both strength and success

     

    which will set Your suppressed goodness free through which You will live healthier

     

    better and richer

     

    for Yourself and for others

     

    I will be giving the envelopes with money for

    the coffee of courage to known and unknown people

     

    coffees of courage for 2012 were blue

     

    coffees of courage for 2014 will be purple

     

    198 coffees of courage are confirming and

    protecting 198 blessings which I write every week

     

    the joy of giving celebrates the sex of receiving

     

    happiness of receiving divinifies orgasm of giving

     

     

    we are one

    one puppy

    one kitten

    one hug

    one transience

     

     

    don’t be afraid

    surrender yourself

    don’t oppose

    give and give yourself

    my

    only

    bud

    my

    snowflake

     

     

    give Yourself to Yourself and trust Yourself like You never have believed that You are

     

    198 coffees of courage are thirst for life

    while I’m writing You this rain is pattering over my jacket

     

    198 coffees of courage are hunger for life

    while I’m writing You this wind is carrying the smells of heavenly oceans

     

    198 coffees of courage are triggering the miracle of love within You

    while I’m writing You this low clouds would like to touch You

     

    198 coffees of courage are joys of life which I will be writing about tomorrow

     


     

    DANDELIONS OF A MOMENT

    2930. day
    8th January 2013

     

    joys of life

     

    everything begins with elation

     

    excitement

     

    existence

     

    with wagging of a cow’s tail

     

    with irresistible road

     

    with grass between the legs

     

    with the wind in wild flowers

     

    with children which are running to the arms of events

     

    with never-ending sex of the very life

     

    all moments within one moment are

     

    all years within every year are

     

    all children within each child are

     

    everything you see you have never seen before

    said Pessoa

     

    what you see is too much since you are seeing a lot anyway

    Walser would say

     

    innocence of hips in the brain gyri

     

    holiness of anybody’s face

     

    music in the blood of girls

     

    waiting for myself

    said Ivan yesterday

     

    warm summer day

     

    city dandy and village oglers

     

    beauty is walking through the spine of a beauty

     

    through her hand on the nape

     

    through the rail track in the dusk

     

    gracefulness will never give up

     

    with the language of pleasure

     

    with open eyes

     

    with sinewy hands

     

    with fat lips

     

    with extremities of language

     

    moments are impassable

    they are a church

     

    joys of life

    are the one and only bed

     

     

    me

    in

    you

    you

    in

    me

    all

    light

    of

    the

    world

    are

    we

     


     

    I LIVE

    2931. day
    9th January 2013

     

    the snow is white in front of me

     

    a magpie is jumping over the snow covered slope

     

    this autumn planted plane trees are going to survive

     

    traces of shoes and birds on the snow

     

    temperature is lower today than it was yesterday but since there is no

    wind and it’s clouded it’s warmer than yesterday when it was sunny and windy

     

    I’m in the woods

     

    there is no greenery

     

    white path. straight tree trunks. bare treetops. grey sky

     

    frozen soil covered with thin layer of snow so there is no mud in the woods

     

    Slow Steps Are Singing Me Is My Name

     

    I live

     

    I live life

     

    the life of all those who used to live

     

    all those who live now

     

    who are yet to live

     

    I live

     

    I sing

     

    I‘m eternal art in the poem of all beings

     

    my stomach and chests are hurting me

     

    I’m smiling so that I get over it

     

    winter festivities and magic are finished

     

    it’s a lull

     

    spring is waiting to begin

     

    I’m enjoying the silence of the woods

     

    I’m watching black bare branches

     

    they are webbing the sky

     

    thick ones thin tenuous

     

    I’m happy because I love trees

     

    all human stories are part of the one great story of all human beings which I call poem

     

    a poem by Miroslav Mandic

     

    Miroslav Mandic Poem

     

    one and only poem in the Miroslav Mandic book

     

    fog and dusk are blending into each other

     


     

    UNCONDITIONAL LOVE IMMEDIATELY

    2932. day
    10th January 2013


    few days ago a female friend of mine told me she will do one nice thing

     

    today she repeated that

     

    I asked her if I could give her an advice

     

    I accept it wholeheartedly – she replied

     

    do it immediately – I wrote to her

     

     

    everything

    that

    is

    good

    should

    be

    done

    immediately

    and

    what’s

    bad

    never

     

     

    this friend told me in the end that she did it and that it was easy and mitigating

     

    isn’t it so – I replied

     

    then I remembered that in 2004 for 222 days I did a work which I called Immediately

     

    it was bothering me that I don’t do certain things immediately and that’s why

    I immediately did Immediately and Immediately helped me do things immediately

     

    I see green plastic ball in the grass and

    I immediately write green plastic ball in the grass

     

    wet snow. moist paper. green stripes. thrown away pocket shots

    I’m laughing that drunkards are calling these little bottles pocket shots (in Serbian “little grandchildren”)

     

    love-kissing immediately

     

    it’s beautiful when immediately turns into never-ceasing

     

    everything has become immediately

     

    orgasm as well starts immediately

     

    a man has closed a zipper on the right pocket and he’s immediately

    checking with his left hand if everything is all right with the left pocket

     

    immediately liberates immediately and immediately brings relief

     

    immediately everything

     

    immediately openness forever

     

    immediately only light

     

    immediately love for all beings

     

    immediately hug to each being

     

    I immediately wink to the world and I feel

    so good that I immediately wink to the very winking

     

    every wink of the world is love for the very world

     

    when I come back from the walking into the First House of All Beings

    I will look up the notebook in which I have been writing Immediately for 222 days

     

    Thank You and Immediately

    222 days of the promotion of the Blue Rose and the Rose of Wandering

    24th May 2004

    this is written on the front page of the notebook

     

    here is the small diary of Immediately about immediately. I’m writing

    in order to celebrate immediately and so that immediately would celebrate me.

    immediately is respect for life and each moment. easiness which is created from

    the greatest hardships

    25th May 2004

     

    immediately is a being

    26th May 2004

     

    immediately (means liberation) for timelessness

    27th May 2004

     

    immediately is a shape in becoming

    28th May 2004

     

    I would love to do everything more and more

    immediately. to be empty, simple-hearted and serene

    29th May 2004

     

    only unconditional love is love

    isn’t it so

     


     

    THIS

    2933. day
    11th January 2013


    this is splendid

     

    this is one

     

    this is unique

     

    this primal

     

    this is divine

     

    by singing this I’m really singing only this

     

    this is always and only now

     

    this and now are one

     

    infinity and eternity

     

    beauty and goodness

     

    this is the only life

     

    this is the one which contains everything

     

    that is all the rest in which there is no everything but only the rest

     

    this is not lived because of all of that

     

    this is grass

     

    that is war

     

    these are the swallows

     

    those are the states

     

    this is tenderness

     

    that is the power

     

    this is the best one

     

    those are the best ones

     

    this is life

     

    that is death

     

    the same way that is overshadowing and destroying this

    that way certain someday is overshadowing and destroying now

     

    sometimes I’m writing about that and about someday as of horror and nothingness

     

    sometimes I spit on that and someday in front of somebody in order to make

    clear and understandable how all of that and someday are an illusion slavery and evil

     

    this is eternity

     

    that is transiency

     

    this is You which is me

     

    that is You which is that

     

    these are these five words

     

     

    t

    t  h i  s

    s


     

    VLADIMIR FRANZ I REJOICE YOU

    2934. day
    12th January 2013

     

    this

     

    it’s a mystery of a blues singer, like Billie Holiday, to completely destroy themselves

    Janice Joplin

     

    not fighting for anything – living for everything

     

    sing to everybody

     

    that

     

    state is an evil-doer

     

    everyone who works for a state is an evil-doer

     

    ministers MPs solders policemen teachers professors doctors actors singers…

     

    parents are educating their children not even knowing or actually knowing

    it too well that their children will become successful legal criminals and killers

     

    variations don’t mean the change

     

    variations are death for the change

     

    changing everything so that everything would stay the same

    here’s the mastery through which the powerful ones are ruling and turning human society into nothingness along the way

     

    attraction enjoyment hooking up binding tiredness boredom

     

    after some time comes braking up only to begin this tiring cycle all over again

     

    attraction enjoyment hooking up binding tiredness boredom

     

    animals create works of love about which man has no clue

     

    more magnificent than human

     

    man is not only destroying animals but also their masterpieces of love

     

    expressing the fear of the other means wanting to dominate that other

     

    it’s hard for me to socialise with people because most of them have property

    and work and I think that everyone should first get rid of their property and work

     

    system makes abysses among people

     

    through attraction enjoyment hooking up binding

    tiredness boredom people only make that abyss even deeper

     

    society is making huge effort to isolate a transformed man

     

    fairy-tale helps the transformed one

     

    this is the fairy-tale

     

    I don’t have a vision of art but I create the art of vision

     

    I am the first artist of all beings

     

    happy end is in the each beginning

     

    happy end in the part of the road

     

    resurrection is in the end

     

    hard beginning full of suffering and stuttering is often

    most wonderful and most beautiful part of the fairy-tale

     

    all people and all beings resurrect through this beginning

     

     

    p

    o

    e

    m

    j

    o

    i

    n

    s

    t

    h

    e

    t

    r

    a

    n

    s

    f

    o

    r

    m

    e

    d

     



     

    TEARS ARE POURING DOWN

    2936. day
    14th January 2013


    for one day I fill the container with cardboard

    said nine year old Vidan to me. a boy from Padina who is collecting cardboard from the streets

     

    rivers on the planet Earth are tears which

    are pouring down from the hearts of good beings

     

    only through all beings all beings are good

     

    without all beings only good beings are good

     

    tears of good beings are pouring for all beings

     

    tears are pouring down

    I’m not yet aware enough of Aaron’s love for me You all beings

     

    if You could only see how Vidan marvelously run down the Valjevska street with the cart

     

    I’m happy that I don’t have children so all the street kids are my children

     

    I’m happy that I don’t have children so all the younglings are my children

     

    shoals of fish

     

    flocks of birds

     

    bevies of evenings

     

    bevies of daybreaks

     

    I turn my head to the right and I’m watching through

    the window late afternoon sun breaking through the clouds

     

    sun rays are also rivers of tears which are

    pouring down and running towards the light in each being

     

    while tears are pouring down my face I’m the most fuckable creature in this world

     

    let’s walk by my words

     

    my words are singing through the tears which are flying like swans

     

    my words are singing to the kids which never deceive

     

    walk by my throat

     

    I’m singing these words through mild movements of my butt cheeks

     

    my words are singing to the children which

    are giving their lives so that the very life would survive

     

    history is the history not only of the winners but the history of grown ups

     

    history is a lie because it’s not speaking of children

    who are sacrificing so that the life would survive but children who

    are sacrificed are mentioned so that it would be charged even more so

     

    people are slaughtering and devouring

    chicken lamb… meat unconsciously or rather very conscious

    that by doing so they are slaughtering their own child-meat and devouring it

    for the first time in the Miroslav Mandic I’ve mentioned – child-meat

     

    child-meat is screaming in pain so that chicken meat would be freed from pain

     

    child-meat is screaming in pain so that lamb meat would be freed from pain

     

    child-meat is screaming in pain so that all younglings would be freed from pain

     

     

    my

    poem

    save

    all

    beings

     

     

    my

    poem

    sing

    by

    all

    younglings

     

     

    my

    poem

    celebrate

    each

    being

     

     

    my

    poem

    croon

    and

    sing

    yourself

    through

    god

    yourself

    and

    you

     

    two thousand one hundred seventy four

     



     

    89TH TIME 33 DAYS

    2937. day
    15th January 2013


    all street children in all streets of the world are the most magnificent beauty of this world

     

    all street children in all streets of the world are more

    marvellous beauty than all famous beauties of this world

     

    I love you all street children in all streets of the world

     

    one should be worthy of all street children in all streets of the world

     

    all street children in all streets of the world are hymns of agonies of human kind

     

    all street children in all streets of the world

    are the future of certain new more human world

     

    all street children in all streets of the world are the only citizens of this world

     

    all street children in all streets of the world are flowers of the cities of this world

     

    all street children in all streets of the world are the only hug of this devastated world

     

    sing hug

     

    transform petrified hearts in the chests of human kind

     

    do sing hoofs of free horses

     

    do sing soles of all street children in all streets of the world

     

     

    pouring

    tears

    are

    pouring

     

     

    eyes of roes are shimmering

     

    clouds are filling with tears

     

    in the bodies of all street children in all streets of the world lies the future of religions

     

    in the hearts of all street children in all streets of the world lies the future of science

     

    in the minds of all street children in all streets of the world lies the future of art

     

    there is no coming back

     

    with yesterday blessings I left

     

    through the roads of fairy-tales

     

    through the paths of poems

     

    though carouses

     

    through blessings of all street children in all streets of the world

     

    through heartbeats of all younglings

     

    through inextinguishable fire which is burning in the

    hearts of all those who have sacrificed themselves for all beings

     

    through the word dancing on my right calf

     

    through the word goodness on my right forearm

     

    through the word carefulness on my right shoulder

     

    through the word joy on my left shoulder

     

    through the word beauty on my left forearm

     

    through the word singing on my left calf

     

    HEROISM THROUGH BLESSINGS

    2938. day
    16th January 2013


    tenderness liberates from fears

     

    don’t hunt for sameness but surrender to the unexpected

     

    to the charming pigs which are rolling in the mud

     

    to the rose bud

     

    last night I started reading the book

    A People’s History of the United Sates by Howard Zinn

     

    it will be my break up with and farewell to the American culture

     

    I grew up on American culture

     

    many things adored in it

     

    adopted

     

    Indians

     

    blues

     

    jazz

     

    struggle against racism

     

    Walt Whitman

     

    Ralph Waldo Emerson

     

    David Henry Thoreau

     

    abstract painting

     

    conceptual art

     

    Billie Holiday

     

    Gertrude Stein

     

    now it’s finished with the American culture

     

    I despise the crimes and genocides that

    used to be and are still done by American culture

     

    crimes of American culture are only an icing

    on the cake of all previous crimes of leading cultures

     

    crime is nothingness and it cannot be the

    foundation of human society but it has been until now

     

    old tree trunks are the witnesses of all of that

     

    rocks are screaming about it constantly

     

    in spite of all that horror which was appearing

    to be the progress and which is still leading and enslaving

    the human society there have always been beautiful angels among people

     

    real history is a poem of one and only love of all beings

     

    the history of good will and transformation

     

    I want

    I want changes. I want is the change

     

    if a man wants to change he or she changes

    if a man doesn’t want to change he or she doesn’t change

     

    only all beings

     

    only each being likes all beings

     


     

    HEROISM THROUGH BEING MARKED AND HAVING NO WAY OUT

    2939. day
    17th January 2013


    Milomir’s suicide marked a life of nine year old Miroslav

     

    being marked continued through art when I was twenty

     

    through jail

     

    Rose of Wandering

     

    earing

     

    tattoos

     

    all beings

     

    fairy-tale

     

    singing

     

    Miroslav Mandic

     

    God

     

    people were staying away from me and they still do. I was also staying away from

    people and I still do so that I don’t jeopardise or hurt them with my views and beliefs

     

    I’m sixty three

     

    alone

     

    nobody near

     

    my loved ones don’t believe in me and my art

     

    they see me the same way I left in my youth and they wish me what I’m disgusted with

     

    they mock me because they can’t believe in what I’m doing and who I am

     

    they are embarrassed with me and silent about me

     

    they are betraying their yearning for me and through this suppression they are betraying

     

    with their secretiveness they are closing the ways of goodness and beauty between us

     

    they are silent about what I gave them and they cannot talk about me

     

    through intellectual loftiness they are betraying the depth of our common experiences

    they are identifying with their wishes thinking that they are identifying with me

    they have never introduced me to their loved ones

    they don’t share me with anybody but they keep me for themselves

    they are drawing me into their traumas and by doing so

    everything we are doing turns into tomfoolery

    they are forgetting who warmed their hearts and

    they are constantly arguing with me in their heads

     

    they are accusing me. they get miserable in front of me. they are

    madly closing up and unconsciously are fighting in order to dominate me

    they are favouring the society over the sanctity of our relationship

    they interpreting me according to the rules of their taste and of the present system

    they are lying about me and falsifying my words

    they would want to draw me into the existing lies

    they are trying to rationalise my inspirations and disturb my tranquillities

     

    they don’t make the difference between innocence and naivety. firmness

    and stiffness. obedience and passive obedience. sameness and similarity

    they are saying that they know me even though they know very little about me

    my efforts towards them they stultify with arbitrariness

    my absence from terminology and authority they are using for

    imposing their terminology and imposing their authority

     

    they are imposing their family on my family of all beings they get scared from

    being delighted with me so they run away and accuse me thinking my way is impossible

    and not accepting it they are offering theirs and they are angry when I reject them

     

    my admiration for wondrous they replacing with self-interest with realistic

    looking up to my dedication to art they are replacing it with their success in art

    my struggle with myself they are replacing with being miserable about themselves

     

    they are projecting their flaws and interpreting me

    through my flaws instead overcoming theirs they are limiting me

    with their experience instead throwing themselves into the limitlessness of relationship

     

    my beloved loved ones no-way-out is between us and that is

    now our only chance that we have together. that’s why help me to

     

    live even braver

    create even more miraculous

    sing even simpler

     

     

    i

    am

    and

    i

    am

    god

     


     

    HEROISM THROUGH UNPROTECTEDNESS

    2940. day
    18th January 2013

     

    I just left first ten Coffees of Courage for this year

    in the Street Children Shelter for the people who are taking care of them

     

    I hope that Coffees of Courage and good

    angles help me to live and work this year as well

     

    I hope that the abyss between me and my beloved ones will disappear

     

    I hope and pray that everything I live create and

    walk will every moment be dear to You all beings and God

     

    I’m getting wet in the rain and I’m happy

     

    I don’t speak to anybody – I sing to everybody

     

    large wet snowflakes are flying through the streets

     

    apropos of the wet snow

    I immediately remember the wonderful Dostoevsky’s sentence which enchanted me when I first read it

     

    my home is everywhere

     

    everyone is my shelter

     

    holly unprotectedness fills my heart while walking in step

     

    may unprotectedness with its hand on my shoulder be my wife while I’m walking

    I wrote in the book Boy Child

     

    it’s colder and more beautiful

     

    dusk is setting in

     

    as long as I dislike something on You, that

    shapes my being too and it still exists within me

    while coldness is warming up my body I’m thinking of the Gabriele Wittek’s sentence

     

    I’m thinking of the gardenings of myself which I was undertaking several times in my life

     

    it’s horrifying facing one’s own flaws

     

    it’s enchanting when I clearly see admit and start overcoming them

     

    insight and admitting are half of the work done in overcoming the flaws

     

    I would love to care less about my health

    to change the concern with Your or mine undertakings about health

     

    I would love to care less about money

    to be even more unselfish and fuckable

     

    I would love to care less about for my books material and immaterial works

    to enjoy in them and in their eternity

     

    I would love to have two-three kilos less

    and even if don’t to feel good and then the kilos will go away on their own

     

    I would love to be less angry

    and even when I do get angry to be angry even stronger freer and

    more carefree and easier and easier as well as calmer carry on my own way

     

    I would love to be less dependent from the need for a woman

    to feel Her presence and agreeing in every moment

     

    I would love that the abyss between me and my

    loved ones hurts me less and makes me less afraid

    to be both mother and father as well as wife and husband

    and daughter and son to everyone and everybody through solitude

     

    I would love to give less notice to what I despise

    to surrender myself even more so to the fragile ones and those I admire

     

    I would love to be less vain

    not to forget that I am the best and not to be afraid to be the best because that’s when the vanity disappears

     

    I would love to less glorify myself

    never to forget that I am God and not to be afraid that I am God because that’s when there is no any glorification

     

    I would love to be braver walk and walking

     

    I would love to be braver work and creating

     

    I would love to be braver poem and singing

     

    I would love to be braver God and divining

     


     

    HEROISM THROUGH HUMBLE RADIANCE

    2941. day
    19th January 2013


    little branches are sticking out of the snow

     

    simplicity invigorates

     

    I’m dragging my finger through the soft snow

     

    a boy is throwing snowballs to the German

    Shepherd dog who is catching them on the fly

     

    I got really cold

     

    I’m dozing off in the warm

     

    I’m thinking tender grannies

     

    I’m thinking fire

     

    I’m thinking the miracle of receiving

     

    humbleness permeates me

     

    small sips of strong brandy are warming me up from the inside

     

    raw spinach is waiting for me

     

    what is radiates

     

    Saturday within Saturday

     

    a pile of cut up wood

     

    a boy who is hanging on the fence of the football field

     

    red cherry which I’m thinking of in the middle of winter

     

    I’m thinking little ship in the open sea

     

    I fell asleep

     

    warmth is spreading and warms up what got cold within me

     

    I’m tenderly thinking of the humble radiance

     

    of the seven year old Ferdi who shouted this morning there’s Miroslav

     

    he was only in a thin jacket and I could see he’s cold

     

    I rubbed him to make him warm

     

    he was just smiling

     

    being radiant

     

    a boy hero

     

    hero of the life itself

     

    I lifted up the zipper of his jacket till the end and rubbed him once again

     

    he ran off filled with Ferdi within him

     

    a boy of the street

     

    red berry of a snowdrop in the snow

     

    flame

     


    GRACE

    2943. day
    21st January 2013


    warm air

     

    mild wind

     

    my back is shivering

     

    I’m closing my eyes and I surrender to the walking

     

    steps are braiding

     

    a dog is barking across the lake

     

    naked branches of the trees

     

    silent happiness because I’ve been drawing the Leaves for ten years

     

    Cesária Évora’s voice can be heard from a café – melancholy of the Cape Verdean

     

    the moment wind hummed in the branches it hummed in my heart as well

     

    a crow is cawing in the pebbles

     

    a host of sparrows is flying to another place

     

    the sparrows have abruptly flown away and

    shimmered with their shadows over the light on the asphalt

     

    a dog is running after his owner on the bike

     

    crows are bathing in the water

     

    seagulls are rocking on the lake’s waves

     

    grace

     

    gratitude

     

    I love wind

     

    the music of the wind

     

    when the wind stops sun rays are warmer

     

    I’m working the wind

     

    I’m working the sun

     

    I’m working the grace

     

    beautiful woman is watching at me from a café

     

    grace should be retained

     

    a woman who passed by me a half an hour ago

    has run around the lake and is running towards me

     

    a bug is walking through the hair of a blond woman who is bypassing me

     

    mild face of a man who is resting on a bench

     

    pebble my mate

     

    people should call wild animals free animals

     

    I am a woman who receives everything within her

     

    I’m a male who is ejaculating grace into all beings

     


     

    HE SPED PAST ME WITH A SMILE

    2944. day
    22nd January 2013


    mothers from lower social classes will always put God in front of their children

     

    mothers from higher social classes will always put their children in front of God

     

    that’s a dead end in which higher classes have always been leading the society

     

    that’s the ego which makes a devil from ourselves and from a man

     

    primitivism

    backwardness behind the mask of civility and progress

     

    today I saw Jasmin Vidan’s older brother running

    down the Marshal Tolbuhin’s street with a cart full of paper

     

    I lifted my fist up in the air to cheer him enthusiastically

     

    he sped past me with a smile

     

    a dolphin of the street

     

     

    joy

    of

    being

    sings

    these

    words

     

     

    joy

    of

    writing

    sings

    this

    poem

     

     

    i’m

    enjoying

    the

    beauty

    of

    the

    words

    which

    meandering

    are

    putting

    love

    into

    the

    heart

    of

    each

    being

     

     

    word

    heart

     

     

    look me in the eyes

    says goodness to beauty

     

    look me in the soul

    says beauty to goodness

     

    I love-kiss you women who are love-kissing all beings

     

    going one’s own way

     

    not hurting anybody

     

    not teaming up

     

    being all beings

     

    I was longing for margarine

     

    it’s waiting for me

     

     

    god

    only

    god

     

     

    wow

    how

    beautiful

    you

    are

    poem

     

     

    mothers of lower classes are feeding their children with margarine

     

    generosity enchants

     

    relinquishment makes happy

     

    symmetry unites

     

    when one undertakes something one should undertake a little but to the end

     

    when one doesn’t undertake something

    one should not-undertake immediately and calmly

     

    rhythm

    melody

    harmony

     

    they are one to the one

     

     

    o

    n

    e

     

    a

    n

    d

     

    o

    n

    l

    y

     

    p

    o

    e

    m

     


     

    I’M IN FLAMES

    2945. day
    23rd January 2013


    constantly

     

    constantly because of the never-ending life

     

    goodness of life never gets old

     

    beauty of sacrifice never dies

     

    flames of freedom never go out

     

    I’m in flames

     

    writing are the flames of freedom

     

    my writing is testimony of all the traces which have ever been made

     

    testimony of paradise which is destroyed by high-flown and impatient ones

     

    works of love of all of those who have sacrificed

    themselves are singing through freedom in my words

     

    freedom of all of those who have chosen death

    instead of slavery sings through each word of mine

     

    beauty of all vanished nations is reborn within me

     

    souls of killed ones are resurrecting through my consciousness in all beings

     

    everything that is disappeared and invisible lives within me and lights up all beings

     

    I haven’t spoken to anybody on Sunday so I haven’t said a single word

     

    I was an old rocks which radiates love

     

    first love through which everything was created

     

    I’m thinking of how all minerals plants animals

    spirits of nature people higher intelligence are making life

     

    one and only life which constantly lives and never dies

     

    life through which each being lives

     

    life through which each being lives to the very life

     

    life through which only all beings create love out of life

     

    look at anything and You will feel love in everything

     

    in the traces of wet soil on the asphalt

     

    in thrown away banana skin

     

    in green plastic bottle form which somebody was

    quenching thirst and now it’s so cold-bloodedly thrown away

     

    love is sometimes only a scream

     

    anything is the most valuable and most costly thing in the world

     

    millions of years are necessary so that anything could be loved

     

     

    poem

    of

    the

    beginning

    is

    also

    the

    beginning

    of

    a

    poem

    and

    the

    beginning

    of

    the

    very

    beginning

     

     

    everything that begins has no end

     

    only God is the same event in everything

     


     

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