Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

 

when I wrote yesterday pussy and cock are one I felt that

when pussy and cock are one then they are innocent and innocence

 

separated – they are shame

 

I cannot comprehend why have pussy and cock been declared as swearwords

 

why are they so hidden

 

how come that people don’t see buds in them

 

the very innocence

 

cock affirms pussy

 

pussy love-kisses cock

 

God affirms and love-kisses God

 

first time after the operation I am in downtown

 

I’m walking through Knez Mihajla Street

 

I feel incredibly great

 

I only am

 

I am the absence of pain

 

presence of God

 

I’m affirming You – trust me

 

through affirming You – I’m eternity

 

I am everything to everybody

 

I am happiness to everyone

 

I am everyone’s love

 

I am the daily bread to everybody

 

I am everyone’s enough daily money

 

I am flexibility in everyone’s body

 

I am a poem in everyone’s soul

 

I am conscious and consciousness in everyone’s spirit

 

I am a hangout in everybody

 

wonderful

 

I was running after a tram

 

I tripped over a high curb

 

I fell over the asphalt

 

I tore my pants on the knees

 

I ripped off the skin on my fingers

 

everything I do is God’s glory. everything I am is God

 

 

 

I didn’t get outside yet

 

the day before yesterday as well yesterday and last night I was a bit cold

 

I’m warming myself

 

I have huddled

 

I called myself towards myself

 

I embraced myself

 

in order to relax and protect myself

 

so that I feel nice

 

so that everybody feels nice

 

I feel nice feeling nice

 

it’s even nicer if the other is nice

 

I’m enjoying how nice he is

 

how he surrenders

 

to grace

 

how he disappears

 

in beauty

 

how he is dying

 

of beauty

 

and for beauty

 

and

 

here

 

is

 

today’s

 

poem

 

i am god

 

 

i am god

if I am to you

god I am

god

 

 

everything is one

 

simple

 

huddled

 

it warms up

 

nurtures

 

breath

 

to breath

 

 

 

a raspberry has fell on the heart drawing on the table

 

a trace of raspberry colour is left

 

tender

 

this second blanket which I wrapped myself in makes me feel good

 

it warms me up

 

not to mention the rockabilly which I’m listening to

 

it makes me happy

 

the taste of raspberry even more so

 

flaming

 

blessings upon blessings

 

I’m imagining You even though You are not around

 

I love You all these years

I will tell You when I see You

 

I admire You

 

without You I wouldn’t survive all these years

 

I’m dancing for You

 

don’t ever think that I think of anybody else but You

 

You are always only You

 

just You

 

You are I

 

I am You

 

music

 

one poem

 

sometimes I call You my Love-Kissing

 

sometimes my Beloved

 

sometimes Li Bai of mine

 

I love-kiss You and kiss You all over in front of everybody

 

I’m with no shame

 

the very innocence

 

You are my freedom

 

You are my consciousness

 

You are my conscience

 

You are my meaning

 

a raspberry of raspberry colour

 

 

 

a stone in the grass gentle

 

all these little insects in front of my feet are getting closer and closer to me

 

little red strawberries in the grass

 

torn dry grass blades on the asphalt

 

many things which I don’t have words for or for

which I would need many words to describe them

 

I’m speechless how all those things I don’t have words for are beautiful

 

crushed little red piece of brick

 

dust out of little pieces of brick

 

really beautiful thrown away board

 

thrown away board reminded me of the moments in which I was coming across boards

 

I remember the time when I first found out of the board

 

this is the board

 

straight. usually smooth. yellow-white. board

 

the same way a fountain was a fountain. a wardrobe a wardrobe. a board was a board

 

board and nails

 

board and other boards

 

board and carpenters

 

table board. floor board. board across the puddle. board and lumberyard

 

board and house of boards

 

only when I think of a board I feel it’s personality. I feel

that for a window as well. for doors as well. for anything in this world

 

not only that I could have been born as a board

but I am as well a board as a window and doors

 

I know that You love me because I am as well a board as a window and doors

 

while I’m enjoying thinking of a board I’m also thinking of other things

 

of the car noise

 

of street

 

a board consists of the very board. a street consists of many things

 

little street consists of few things. big street consists of many things

 

a city consists of many more things than one street

 

planet Earth consists of much more things than there are things in one metropolis

 

Cosmos is a thing with the most things

 

all things and one peace that’s what Cosmos is

(in Serbian words “Cosmos” – “Svemir” is made out of two words “Sve”, meaning “All” & “mir”, meaning “peace”, T.N.)

 

only all things are made up of peace

 

only all beings are made up of love

 

 

      

this

poem

i

call

poem

 

 

turtledove

purr

i

call

poem

 

 

the

sound

of

a

branch

broken

by

the

wind

i

call

poem

 

 

everything

about

everything

can

be

sung

through

poem

 

 

taking a step

 

embracing

 

licking

 

I’m thirsty for You

 

the joy of writing the joy of reading

 

connecting

 

through one

 

through goodness

 

my heart is warm since yesterday from the nun who I passed by on the street

 

baby corn grains are filling with water

 

I still cannot part with the nun’s smile

 

she was neatly dressed in greyish-blue habit

 

with white collar

 

she lightly stepped on the stairs which I left to her

 

she was full of love

 

I always give way to people in the street especially to women

 

rarely someone thanks

 

they usually coldly pass by

 

the nun was pure warmth

 

she was moving easily with her strong body

 

I turned after her to bow to her and to remember her

 

innocence is connecting our hearts

 

not reality but kindness

 

nun’s love

 

a young bakery girl was also kind when she recommended a barley bread

 

loving only loving

 

loving gusts of wind

 

loving that slope

 

 

loving

everything

and

everyone

through

poem

and

singing

it

with

love