Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

    You
    are

    411570

    bud

    O NEČEMU I NI O ČEMU

    2105. day
    6th October 2010

    soon

     

    26. PUT LAO CE

    2106. day
    7th October 2010

    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

     

    TAČ

    2107. day
    8th October 2010

    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

     

    NEŽNOSTIMA SVEMIRA SVEMIR NEŽNOSTI

    2108. day
    9th October 2010

    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

    JE JE JE

    2110. day
    11th October 2010

    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

     

    VAJPE VAJPE BAVILJU JAMO

    2111. day
    12th October 2010

    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

     

     

    64. PUT PO 33 DANA

    2112. day
    13th October 2010

    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

     

     

    ŠIPLE ŠIPLE BAVILJU JAMO

    2113. day
    14th October 2010

    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

     

     

    TRIDESET GODINA OD ODLUKE DA SE PONOVO BAVIM UMETNOŠĆU

    2114. day
    15th October 2010

    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

     

    LIGR I BILJU BAVILJU JAMO

    2115. day
    16th October 2010

    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

     

     

    ONLY YOU ARE FUCKING GOOD – ONLY YOU ARE GOOD WHEN FUCKED

    2117. day
    18th October 2010

    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 Youonly 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

     

    BOSOM-WRITING

    2118. day
    19th October 2010

    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

     

    BOZIDAR MANDIC INVITED ME TODAY FOR LUNCH

    2119. day
    20th October 2010


    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

     

    HIS PATH IS IMPORTANT NOT MY DEATH — WALK SLOWLY AND YOU WILL GO FAR

    2120. day
    21st October 2010

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

     

    Bud. 1st 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

     

     

    MOST IMPORTANT THING FOR ME IS NOT TO BOTHER ANYBODY

    2121. day
    22nd October 2010

    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

     

    THE DAY OF LADYBIRDS IN ART HISTORY

    2122. day
    23rd October 2010

    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

     

    I AM JELENA KARLEUSA

    2124. day
    25th October 2010

    Jelena Karleusa

    I’m enjoying the one and only rhythm of writing and breathing

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I justify the life of every being by the life itself

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I give meaning to every being through being

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I love-kiss every being through creation

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I celebrate every being through singing

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    a woman and a man are one and only pussy of the one and only man

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    a woman and a man are one and only cock of the one and only being

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    a woman and a man are the heart of one and only man

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    a woman and a man are the mind of one and only being

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    one man does more than all people together

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    one being makes new populism that is the only one to overcome the old populism

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    truth is coming out of the heart which kisses

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    truth is singing every moment out of the heart of the other

    which at that moment is singing the song of all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I calm myself through singing

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I’m changing my mind through humbleness

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    great singing is humming through calmness

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    goodness of all beings lives in the pussy of goodness

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    beauty of all beings lives in goodness of the pussy

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    pussy of every cell love-kisses the cock of every cell

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    pussy is the first letter of alphabet sais in the primer of all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    cock is the last letter of alphabet sais in the

    reader of the final year of primary school for all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I Adore You Jelena Karleusa first book of the readings for all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    eternity yearns for the moment

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    in one moment all beings are Jelena Karleusa

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    Miroslav Mandic doesn’t exist if he’s not Jelena Karleusa

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I’m not looking after myself I’m looking after all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I love giving my life to all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I put humour on bread of all beings

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I sing lullabies to all beings through swearwords

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    I’m mining through the indifferent ones through sex

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    saint woman love-kisses the rejected ones because lie is hiding behind the sanctuaries

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    You are Jelena Karleusa whoever You are

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    like Patti Smith’s song I wrote thirty one years ago

     

    Jelena Karleusa

    the smell of cabbage that I’m frying for the first time in my life

    greatest concert – concert of all beings – is constantly proceeding – obviously – in the heart of one and only being

     

    IT’S A DAY LIKE THAT

    2125. day
    26th October 2010


    what’s this drizzling. it would be better if it was pouring – I heard 

    one young man behind my back

     

     

    it’s moisturising

     

    I went later on walking. I spent a lot of time on porn sites

     

    I went out just to write blessings

     

    I’m walking in Crocks shoes so my socks are wet and my feet are cold

     

    I hope I’ll get to today’s thirteen kilometres from two or three walkings

     

    there is still no heating in one of the Nest’s rooms

     

    one friend told me yesterday that he won’t be able of giving me money any more

     

    that is three or four of them now

     

    I already ate the muffin

     

    everything is gray and gloomy and that’s exactly why it’s nice

     

    I bought one more muffin

     

    I’m hungry even though I put on kilo and a half over the weekend

    so now I should lose three

     

    it will be all right after all if I write 33 blessings and if I make myself a bit warmer

     

    time I spend on porn sites is time of innocence

     

    I feel only goodness on porn sites

     

    naked bodies love-kiss one another

     

    they are not afraid and they permeate each other

     

    naked body which is surrendering to the other body is God’s poem and glory

     

    Robert Walser

     

    I hope that I will disclose the way in which I can celebrate

    goodness and beauty of women and men on porn sites

     

    I hope that I will find the way to get a bit more

    money per month so that I can carry on living and working

     

    I hope I will be God dear to God more and more

     

    I hope somebody will appear

     

    goodness of goodness

     

    beauty of beauty

     

    poem of poem

     

    even though You are not around Miroslav Mandic Art is heroism in couple

     

    I am nobody and that’s why I know how somebody is needed

     

    my feet got warmer so I will walk a bit more

     

    when I come back into the Nest I’ll grate the leftovers of yesterday’s

    cabbage and with mayonnaise and two hot peppers it will be lunch

     

    I hope tonight I will be dressed better and have will to walk the rest six kilometres

     

    I

    lo   ve

     

    k

    i

    s

    s

     

     

     

     

    UNEXPECTED ROADING

    2126. day
    27th October 2010

    for the first time on this road

     

    I thought I’ll come back over the other side of the lake

    but I carried on down the old Obrenovac road

     

    the change refreshed me encouraged and gave strength

     

    walking is saving me

     

    I feel good on this road

     

    I enjoy the word road

     

    road road road

     

    I’m roading

     

    I got used to You being here even though You are not

     

    sometimes there is no even the fact that You are not here

     

    I sidetracked from the old Obrenovac road towards Zeleznik

     

    the sky feels nice

     

    I enjoy the dry canes that are being bent by the wind

     

    if I wasn’t a jester I wouldn’t have survived

     

    I am a poet in order to survive singing

     

    I’m walking between the cargo wagons

     

    everything smells like trains and journeys

     

    two-three more kilometres. it will be around nineteen

     

    it would be good if I wrote the rest of the blessings on these stairs

    because I’ll be tired and sleepy when I get back to the Nest

     

    young pregnant woman with a baby in her arms and

    a boy that just started to walk is coming down the stairs

     

    I’m climbing slowly

     

    I have never been on these stairs

     

    there is humour even in a great despair

     

    humour saviour

     

    who saves the humour

     

    sometimes it’s saved only by the despair

     

    like today when I stretched over the fence to reach the grapes and fell over it

     

    like fingers that I made bleeding by crashing very hard walnuts

     

    grapes are gone

     

    apples are coming

     

    I’m getting into the street of the Nest. last hundred meters

     

    it’s hard to live with ideals but without them I would have been long dead

     

    physical pain is really lofty

    18.8 km

     

    TO A GIRL

    2127. day
    28th October 2010

    last night died Nemecsek

     

    Ernő Nemecsek

     

    lovely boy in the book The Paul Street Boys

     

    I was crying. my throat has tightened

     

    in the evening I felt high temperature

     

    for the first time I watched Jacob Reynolds

    in glorious film Gummo by Harmony Korine

     

    a moment ago I saw their names on the Internet

     

    I remembered beautiful film Kids that I watched few years ago

     

    I found out about Larry Clark the director of Kids

    story for the film was written by Harmony Korine

     

    film is becoming more and more poetry

     

    film poem

    Poem about Film is the title of the text because of which I was sentenced thirty years ago

     

    I hope I won’t fall sick

     

    if I fall sick I should be brave like Nemecsek

     

    like Alissa Bucolin and Pavel Korchagin

    Ernő Nemecsek as well lived within me throughout these years

     

    a

    poem

    a

    hero

    of

    being

     

    temperature

     

    only

    that

    what

    is

    is

    a

    poem

     

    when

    only

    something

    is

    then

    just

    something

    is

    a

    poem

     

    worry

     

    tremendous

    loneliness

     

    from being worried and out of great loneliness I lose my immunity

     

    listen – she said with a strange, full of wondering and

    trembling voice to her husband – he is not breathing...

     

    she put her head down

     

    listen – she shouted loudly, not caring for anything – not breathing

     

    Nemecsek

     

    face

     

    everything can be seen on the face

     

    everything can be heard in the voice

     

    everything is in the words

     

    last night a big clock stopped working around 4 am

     

    heating is still not reaching the other room

     

    I’m getting up from the table

     

    poem

    film

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