Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

Lao Tzu in fifty fifth chapter

One who knows does not speak. 

One who speaks does not know. 

Lao Tzu in fifty sixth chapter 

I’m off to give Vesna the rent for the Nest

ouch

my soles Achilles’ tendons and loins are sore

ouch

last night I saw on the internet that Tom Gotovac couldn’t walk before he died

ouch

all I’m left with is gratitude and joy

one of the saddest thing in my life I’ve heard couple of years ago from Tom Gotovac

harmony guards harmony

tree is tree

God love-kisses God 

poems of innocence are singing through God 

poems of experience are singing of God 

one more serve-response. when I’m reading MM in the evening I hope hard

that your day was good. it’s somehow more probable that mine is going to be as well 

I got text message from Vera

and here’s the miracle You’ll read Your own words this evening in MM 

I answered to Vera

I skipped this blessing but I marked it

with red so that I don’t forget to write it

however the day goes every day is good

dead or alive it’s all one and the same – what is important is that all is one

what is

eternity to time

infinity to space

energy to love

it is all beings to life

every being is infinite and eternal love to all beings

all beings are Vera’s hope that my day was good

all beings live in every being that is giving its life to the other life

p

o

e

p  o  e  m  e  o  p 

e

o

p

all beings live in anything and that’s why anything is beautiful

beauty

of

poem

loves

to

be

within

the

poem

of

goodness

t

o

m

g

o

t

a n t o n i o l a u  e  r

v

a

c

beauty

of

picture

loves

to

be

within

the

picture

of

goodness

a

n

t

n

i

t  o  m g o t o v a c

l

a

u

e

r

I love to love

Miroslav Milomir Mandic

love-kisses

Vera Velizar Varady

18:18 (6:18pm)

eighteen and eighteen I love-kiss You

alive is one

w

e

a

r

e

o

n

e

o

u

o  u  c  h

c

h

I’m waving

to You

I’m not explaining

I’m not answering

I’m winking

I’m crackling with my fingers

I’m mingling

with my hips

my lips

my mind

heart-like

god-like

with humour

our

hum

ohm-ohm

b

o

g

o

b  o  g  o  m  o  g  o  b

o

g

o

b

(with God, prim. prev.)

j

e

d

n

j   e  d   n   i  m  s  m  o

m

s

m

o

(we are one, prim. prev.)

I changed sweaty t-shirt

I put the shirt inside out

fuck-it-humour

takeaway humour

Tija Tijana

hundred grams with no authority

I hug You Bela

three hundred grams without terminology

I love-kiss Hamvas

magnolias will start soon

swallows will come soon

loyalty is the most sexual

g

i

v

r e c e i v i n g

n

g

I adore You – You divinise me

You adore me – I divinise You

this morning I took out around thirty dates of birth of those I

adored – the ones that divinised me because I adores them

p

b o m b i  n  g  o h a s b e g u n

e

m

today I bought two bananas and I said to the polite sales woman that I’ve

heard yesterday and that I put last night banana skins on my painful soles and heels

and she told me I know of that with cabbage. well that’s even better since it’s cheaper –

I answered her

all of us that are bombing we are killed in the bombing same as

those that we have bombed from the day they were born through bombing

and that’s how it all will be until the bombing stops procreating

by bananas

miroslavmandic

to the fire-fighters who are sacrificing their life to extinguish the fire of knowledge and save the fire of love for all beings

I got up before the alarm clock went off. toilet. put the water for tee to boil. dressed

up. turned the computer on. put the soaked beans on the hot ring. set at the desk

I’m waiting for the spring

04.27am

spring has came. I smiled at it

I got up earlier in order to greet the spring

and write first poem in the book I am You are I

I wrote it

I am God

first words

all other 365 poems will begin the same – I am God

God

last three words in the book I am You are Him are I am bud

after thirty years I am bud has transformed into I am God

poem

I typed in the poem onto the Bud’s screen

I rewrote it in the Red Notebook

I am Penelope

I wrote it down in the first rectangle in the Desk Picture

that will be small poems

buds

God

to You

God

to me

God

to all beings

God

to God

then happy like Tom Sawyer I went again to bed again

I got up at quarter to eight. and same again. toilet. water for tea. dressing up

beans again on the hot ring. turning on the Bud. but also eye exercises...

I was emptied and I lacked sleep

I went for a short and slow walking

today tomorrow and day after tomorrow I’ll walk just six kilometres a day

if somebody wants to walk the rest seven kilometres tomorrow or day after tomorrow

let me know that you have walked and how much so that I can walk on Wednesday or

Thursday 5000 kilometres of the Bud of Walking. if not it will be on Saturday

and

12pm

midday bells are ringing – I love-kiss You midday love

I’m drinking wonderful cheep weak white Riesling

alone – joy to the joy – itself

in Saturday Biljana Roncevic came for a visit to give me

the support for the beginning of writing of I am You are I. when

thirty years ago I wrote I am You are Him Biljana wasn’t even born

Petar Miloradovi’s father died yesterday. old elk has fallen – wrote Petar

beans

birth of a poem

God

love

like a first grader I’m learning how to write poems I am You are I

today as well I was enjoying in slow and nonbinding walking

emptied

thirty year old poem has drained me

sometimes I’ll write in Miroslav Mandic about I am You are I

I would love in couple of years to bind all four books

I am You are Him

Kaja

Milomir

I am You are I

into the one book – because all of them are just

one poem – with comments and refinements

until then I’m not turning back

during last thirty years sometimes I would think how wonderful it will be that –

once in 2011-2012 – I will be writing fourth part of the book I am You are Him

here is that wonderful

wonderful but ordinary

same

new green grass

little white flowers in the grass

February’s March and March of April

streaming of love

alone

alone child

a

l

o

n

a   l   o   n   e   n   o   l   a

n

o

l

a

moment by moment

day by day

years by year

centuries by centuries

stream is streaming

love-kissing love-kisses

č

u

d

e

s

n

o   b   i   č   n   o  n  s  e  d  u  č

n

č

i

b

o

(čudesno = wonderful; obično = ordinary, prim. prev.)

sun

shines

I-am-You-are-I has leaned on the chair rest and watches what he wrote

peaceful

he is

he writes with his eyes over the emptiness

indescribable happiness is rolling within him

even

though

nobody

is

around

he

feels

somebody

is

here

when yesterday in the end of the book twelve year old Tom Sawyer

suggested to twelve year old Huckleberry Finn to form a gang

It’s to swear to stand by one another, and never tell

the gang’s secrets, even if you’re chopped all to flinders,

and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang

Huckleberry Finn answered

That’s gay — that’s mighty gay, Tom, I tell you.

Jelena and Violeta have walked for me the day before yesterday so today

on the 10714^th step will be 5000 kilometres of the Bud of Walking. well that is a poem

my soles heels and Achilles’ tendons are sore. well that is a poem

poems that is a poem

poem those are the poems

86400

seconds

of

a

day

are

86400

poems

within

a

day

turn-about

doo bee doo bee doo

whoa whoa who

dray

searchers

mud around the wheels

horizon is surrounding me

picturesque words are shaping my blessing

through the middle

a

n

d

o

n

l

y

t

h

r

o

u

g

h

t

h

e

m

i

d

d

l

e

the bells of midday love are ringing

I will go on the walking around half three in order to meet up around half five with Ana

Zgonjanin who is bringing me blue crayons for the Blue Roses from Branka Zgonjanin

gratitude to Mina Novcic who is buying me the blue crayons

blue crayons

blue crayons well that is a poem

blue poem

it’s wonderful sitting at the desk in front of the Bud and waiting for the blessings

waiting for them to fly away like a flock of sparrows

to rocket like a robin

to flash like swallows

dazzle

tranquillity

a personality becomes through the amenity

words are counting me

numbers are writing me

pictures are walking me

well

that

is

a

poem

roe-deer is singing

I am a roe-deer

I is singing

I am

butterfly

another butterfly

a bee on the blue flower

little bugs have came out. flies started to fly

patience I love-kiss You

patience please help me

I close my eyes

I’m snoozing

wind carries me to the side

warm soil smells

good child is giving me strength

poem conceives a being

a poem being

singing being

master Srki is locking up his cobbler store Srki

poor man is looking at the bill for what he’s carrying in to plastic bags

goodness attracts all beings

a granny with placid smile is carrying asleep grandson on her shoulder

two hairdressers are sitting embraced in the sunny shop window

and waiting for a new customer

poor girl is walking in sneakers that are few numbers bugger than hers

poverty

exemplar

self-sacrificing

the dawn of the exemplar

one and only is the answer

it’s name is so beautiful

answer

is

responsibility

while kissing in the morning houseleeks and cactus for few days now I hear turtledoves

ten year old boy wanted to run across the street on the red light but the car started

moving and luckily he stopped on time. he got scared but even more so ashamed

only idiots are being cocky when drunk – a fourteen year old boy says to a girl

you’re drawing well – I said to the seven year old girl who was drawing

with chalk on the asphalt. she smiled. she rejoiced me a lot

if somebody offered me in my youth several basic roads

which I could take I would like the most this one that I took. but I would

have given it up because it would seem impossible even if it’s the most just

the wind is waving my unbuttoned red velvet shirt – that’s that road

with all difficulties that I’ve lived through and that I live I’m repeating

Nikola Tesla’s sentence whole my long life I’ve spent in

verve. that was the source of my happiness

you shouldn’t be tolerating that foolery – says older gypsy to the younger one

I’m walking slowly

I don’t have time for not having time

clearness

publicness

clear words of publicness

walking thirteen kilometres every day is not hard but it sure isn’t easy

writing every day 33 blessings is not hard at all but it’s sure almost impossible

I’m thinking of monks in deserts – I feel ashamed

I’m thinking of kids in mines – I feel ashamed

I’m thinking of horses – I feel ashamed

a man is sitting on the bench and writing. he hooked the paper to the carton

with blue clothes peg. before he writes something he waves his hands

in the passage I see small handwriting written in even rows

I already wrote how I’m more and more ashamed but since then I’m even more ashamed

why water isn’t for drinking – a young girl started whining when she saw

the sign on the faucet saying water isn’t for drinking

I saw one pebble on the road and I felt that I feel good because of it

stones – flowers on the road

everything that is actually is just a sort of stones

while walking over this soil with traces of caterpillar tracks of a

small trencher I feel I’m here as if I’m anywhere in the world

whole world is where I am and over there are borders money and passports

without borders money and passports I would have been everywhere

in this way everywhere is here

my heels are tensed from fatigue

painful

heels

holly

whole-heels

fifth

heels

tensed

while I’m kissing remains with the remaining strength

I hear turtledoves again in the late afternoon

next summer will be seven hungry years that have passed

and

until then

and

after that

nineteen years since Kaja is gone

Kaja

Mother

of God

sixth day since the buds of the book I am You are I started to bloom

when the midday bells of love begin to ring I’m writing the bud-poem

midday love – midday poems

poems of love giving

sore loins

sore Achilles’ tendons

sore heels

I’m thinking of a girl with radiant face that was staring at people on the lake

radiance of the contrite ones

enchanting beauty of the abandoned ones

lips on the loins

I’m writing for the spine

meandering

spine-like

through spinal health to all beings

        s        

p

i

n

s   p   i   n   e   n   i   p   s

n

i

p

s

self-encouragement

self-healing

self-like–to–all-like

mysterious stranger is entering the city

wanted

poem

is

actually

me

I

is

the

most

beautiful

poem

I

is

the

most

poetic

poem

16:16 (4:16pm)

one to the other is everything

wise sayings are said by themselves

sings

love-kisses poem love-kisses

sings

Kaja my mother is not the most beautiful mom

Kaja my mother is not my mom

Kaja my mother is mother to all beings

Your Kaja

dandelion

girl Madonna

Kajadonna

this 64246^th blessing is 555^th blessing till the middle of the book

wedding of small and big

harmony of obvious and incomprehensible

agreement between privileged and rejected ones

revolution of innocence

terrible need to call somebody but I don’t have anybody who I can call

nobody are mountains

nobody are clear creeks

nobody is cosmic dust

nobody is all is nobody

nobody of words

nobody of light

nobody the source of everything

nobody the one of disunited

nobody everything to somebody

somebody

I

somebody

nobody    I   somebody

nobody

nobody of beauty

somebody of goodness

roe deer

robin

all villages

all villages of all cities

all villages of all minds

village of oceans and winds

village of light and Universe

village of one and only heart

city of one and only mind

see come to have a swim together

autonomy

autobiography

auto-loyalty can somebody be loyal to You even for one second

while I was taking a photo of magnolia one

turtledove flew in to the wire to see what was it all about

be everything to me – I am Your love

misery – no. poverty – yes yes yes

inferiority – ne. calmness – yes yes yes

superiority – no. verve – yes yes yes

I’m waiting

I’ve leaned the fingers of both hands against the desk

I’m watching the screen

I was thinking of things that I’ve heard on television

of a girl that was licking ice cream being leaned on the exit door of the supermarket

of the shop for poor people

of the rarest courage – courage in peace

of the rarest compassion – compassion in happiness

of solidarity in catastrophes

of blue beggar

of the smell of rye bread

I’ll add béchamel to the cooked vegetables even though I don’t know what béchamel is

this morning I was tenderly thinking of holly nescience

I have never felt before more beautiful knowledge than the holly nescience

I remembered how I resented my age when I was twenty six

and how I came to the decision to go towards the new innocence

wow how sanative that was

I’ll go now to make that béchamel

while I was making béchamel – if it is béchamel at all – I remembered my

thoughts from this morning about beautiful human experience

owing nothing guarantees long lasting love

you want long lasting love – then don’t owe anything

people are much more cheating with love than with money

when love is gone then only money remains

that’s why money is so brutally precise

one third of money is love

blue beggar begs blue money

blue money is bowing of love-money

name of the blue beggar is I-am-You-are-I

I’m more and more excited by old people because I see girls and boys in their weakness

just awakened sexuality

greatness and beauty of old trees

already eternity of all beings

I’m happy because today I will write about my envy

I’m thinking about that from last night

these words moved me

people are slandering each other either out of envy or because they

are themselves like the ones they are slandering. in first case, those who

we are slandering are simply more claver, beautiful, rich or all together better

that the slanderer; in second case, of typical projection, we slander people because

of those individual characteristics which we ourselves posses in our hidden being,

and which are bothering us, which we are even ashamed of, being either

not at all or not sufficiently aware of them

Vladeta Jerotic in his book Teachings of St. Isaac the Syrian and Our Times

slandering gives birth to slandering. blessing gives birth to blessing

Isaac the Syrian

I’m going to the lake and I’m thinking of my envy

I’m happy to write about it so that envy would get out of me but not enter anybody else

I empathise with You and Your envy

before I went outside I wrote on a piece paper the words of

Vladeta Jerotic that I will leave to a random passerby on the lake

I didn’t do it because of what happened

I’m envious whenever I am not

when I am then I just am

I Am God

I Am isn’t envious of anybody

envy is shit

shit is not bad. that is its nature. but if I leave it

where I shouldn’t or if I process it then it feeds the life itself

problem is when I start eating my own shit

even bigger problem is if I start feeding somebody else with my shit

envy of mine transform into I-Am

I-Am feed yourself and drink from I am every being

when I am not only that I easily accept the fact that somebody else

is more claver, beautiful, rich or all together better but I rejoice it as well

I envy when I’m too passive

I envy when I’m lazy and when I’m loosing the faith in my work

I envy when I forget who and what I have given my life to

I envy when I get scared of death

I envy when I don’t sympathise with the more claver, beautiful, rich

or all together better ones and with sacrifice they are bearing in order to be that

I envy when I get scared of my verves

I envy when I forget that I’m the best

I envy when I forget that only God is the best and that I am God

I’m dedicating today’s blessings to the political

prisoners and all those who are innocently convicted

I’m dedicating today’s blessings to the more claver, beautiful, rich or all together better

ones because they bear other people’s envy and also because

I’m compassionate with their envy

I still can’t calm down... when I was finishing with taking the photo of my face at the end

of the lake one young woman approached me and took a photo of me. I thought it was

somebody who knows me. when she came to me she said in fury you took a photo of

us now I will take a photo of you. that’s for police. I was completely caught by her

and frightened. I told her to look what is in my camera. she looked at it but there

was not a single photo with her. I told her that I can imagine that she was

upset by my photo taking but that she also upset me and that it would

be nice to apologise when she saw I didn’t take a photo of her

to apologise. that’s horrible what you are doing – she said

God

I went through all the photos at the desk and she really wasn’t there

she and older woman who she was pushing the prom with had

an impression that I was taking a photo of them while I was

taking a photo of the paper with Vladeta Jerotic’s words

innocence of the Bud of Art

m

mu

muk

muza

muka

muzika

muka

muza

muk

mu

m

(m

moo

silence

muse

agony

music

agony

muse

silence

moo

m)

budded fruit trees are really breath taking

people are really annoying me – says famous Joe the dredger to the man

who stopped him. last summer I drove out three dredges to Slavija Square

and not even this much people was there. people love to suffer. silly people

I thought of telling You please God don’t ever leave

me. but then I felt that You neither want nor You can leave any

being. beings are leaving You and they think that You have left them

people are afraid of God because if they feel him they presage that God will be God

God within themselves

the smell of wild plums in the beginning of Visoka Street opens up my brain

... and in youth – asks young woman one very old toothless

skinny man. in youth we were defying each other...

a drawing of the Good Walker became damp from the sweat

so the drawing paper curled up

I am very tired

hungry

Achilles’ tendons and heels are over flown with strain

I’m stretching my loins

I’m clenching my jaws

I’m thirsty

I’ll open a water bottle

water was so pleasant

one cooked beetroot one potato one onion

one carrot and a bit of cabbage are waiting for me

Lightnin Hopkins is helping me. I’m enjoying his voice a lot

I’m circling with shoulders

I’m stretching the spine

vertebras are cracking

I’m tenderly thinking of nerves

I will massage my heels and Achilles’ tendons after the lunch

I will lie down and read Jack London’s White Fang

after my eyes start closing I will close the book

I will fall asleep like a child in armful of tiredness

I will get up after an hour. I’ll make myself a tea for prostate

I’ll massage my heels again and I’ll get out for a short walk

I will turn the Bud on. I will listen to some music. I’ll download

my blessings edited by Violeta and Ivana’s translation to English

I will put the blessings and photos on the web site

I will turn the Bud off. I will turn the TV on and I’ll draw the Numbers

I will go to bed around eleven-twelve and I’ll read again

I will turn the lights off

I’ll go

babies people. younglings of animals. buds of plants. grains of sand stones

ideas of spiritual world

sex of the sensual and metaphysical

love of the sensual and metaphysical gives birth to the immortal beings

I adore oversensitive people

my phone is ringing – Petar Miloradovic is calling

here are the first nudists on the lake

buzz of the ladybirds around my head reminds me of summer

and you will have the rye one

a baker woman that was cold until now told me kindly yesterday

I’m walking for the baker woman

today begins census of the population

I didn’t take part in the previous census or in the one before it

ever since – in 1991 – I went on the

Rose of Wandering my being and my status have changed

address In Your heart

nationality Life

state Universe

religion God

membership Alone for all

attribute God’s Child

I am a poet not a citizen

I am an artist not a member of an association

I am a walker – constant creating and singing to all beings

I am God not counting of the alive and the dead people

a job of an enumerator is to enumerate and mine is to create yet nonexistent

these blessings are my census

everything I think feel speak do create sing is my census

I hope that the enumerator will be understandable

and that they won’t make problems for me

I live and work for joy and in benefit of all beings

and that is not done under the human laws

humans are tiny portion of all beings

check in freedom

check in solidarity

check in immortality

check me into Your heart

Miroslav

asked me an unknown woman near the Synodal Church. she reached out

with her hand and said Isak’s wife. she rejoiced me very much

you are more beautiful Svetlana. that’s why I couldn’t recognize you

beauty is goodness

while I was drawing Good Walker and thinking how many people lived on

planet Earth until my birth so that I could know which number in that row

am I exactly I could have plunged down the staircases on the Sava jetty

I is God’s glory for myriad of times in a row

I ask freely only when I’m happy because

that’s when I transmit freedom and happiness on you

I sexually love-kiss everybody’s sexuality

bricks bricks

thorn thorn

baby baby

God God

obeying liberates

liberation creates

creation sings

singing

god

god

of

singing

I went after this old man on the crossroads

out of respect even though red lights were on

at this moment

I have changed

poems

I am God

in the book

I am You are I

into

i am god

I

sing

everything

in

small

letters

in

glory

of

one

and

only

great

letter

letter

god

the name all walkers who are walking into hundred thousand years is Miroslav Mandic

the name of all artists who are creating in now is Miroslav Mandic

the name of all poets who are singing in eternity is Miroslav Mandic

every word is beauty and goodness

there you are I can’t remember Greek word for goodness and beauty

that is the way in which there you go is constantly present

there you go

I love-kiss

you

there you go

eternal

summer

bathing of a soul

sunbathing of a mind

never say never

always say now

God I call you by my name

you celebrate me through your name

God

god

bud

ruth

compassion

synergy

harmony

I am a donkey of beauty

donkey of beauty love-kisses a mare

mare

of

god

is

god

there is no conversation without love

there is no thinking without God

I love-kiss

conversation is dragging relativisation and hiding of guilt

whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent

Wittgenstein

whereof one cannot speak, thereof I sing

God

every

word

is

god’s

name

and

poem

i am god confirms God

I was passing by the bus for blood donation

I’m sorry I cannot donate blood because of jaundice that I had

if I carried on donating blood after twenty fifth time until today I would

have donate blood for hundred and forty times and around forty litres of blood

instead of three of them there would be eight of them

poem

of

life

you

are

my

life

poem

while I was writing the word bud I was passing by the cars from which

one woman gave me a worried look. I approached the opened window and told her

I’m writing something for myself and people get scared. just you do your job – she said

when my seeing takes place of me watching I can see everything is love-kissing

Clear

scared woman is running after her dog and calling it

only when I’m not myself – I am I

only when I’m not a man – I am God

God is love

love transforms

God becomes God

it really makes me feel good when somebody is kind to me

dedicated to a kind woman who I bought lettuce from

...I hurt you once long time ago...

I got this text message from one child-woman

a lot of people hurt me. mainly for no reason

all those traumas shocked me and insulted me

I love-kiss You my innocence

I tried to transform all the traumas into poem art and love

I love-kiss everyone who hurt me

I never wanted to hurt anybody on purpose even though I’m aware that this hurts somebody as well

and

this

goodness

even

more

so

and

this

beauty

as

well

God is love

love transforms

God becomes God

I wrote yesterday and day before yesterday but this is today

while weeding being bent down a worker of Parks and Gardens

is talking over the mobile phone

misusing is a tool of profit and interest

good-using is shyness of singing and fragility

everything is yellow with dandelion

it will be red with poppies

blue with swallows

I haven’t seen a single poppy

nor a first swallow

a man screened his face from sun with the hat

he took off and he’s watching the airplane above his head

when I do something with permission of a dice

I’m calmer even if I experience some unpleasantness

I enjoy lettuce more and more

it will be like that until the first tomatoes come

really sometimes I write very well the word really

I’m smiling to my failures

they are liberating me from illusions

leading me over the limits of success

fool helps me a lot

I would go crazy without fool

fool easily takes what I can’t

I should help fool as well

fool

let’s

dance

you dance so good

I’m guarding You I love-kiss You my fool

the angles of loneliness are guarding people from loneliness

y

o

u

a

r

e

f

o

o

l

s

I am fool

fool’s children

younglings of all beings

God’s children

words

my fools

God is love

love transforms

God becomes God

I wrote yesterday the day before yesterday and three days ago but this is today

Miroslav Mandic who writes the name of Miroslav Mandic

I enjoy Miroslav Mandic who writes the name of Miroslav Mandic

while writing the letters that are making the name Miroslav Mandic

feels as if he’s writing over the rocky mountain wreaths

everything trembles within that Miroslav Mandic writing

dust that flies in the air sparkles with Miroslav Mandic

flowery meadows are full of rhythmical jerks

Miroslav Mandic is constant contractions and releases

surrendering

spine’s nerves

Miroslav Mandic adjustment of all Miroslav Mandics

Miroslav Mandic horse’s neck

Miroslav Mandic thighs of love

Miroslav Mandic cimcum

M spermia

M is Miroslav Mandic Miroslav Mandic is M

one and only spermia of all beings

Miroslav Mandic is what you wish for yourself

Miroslav Mandic is what you are to others

Miroslav Mandic wheat of an animal

Miroslav Mandic supernatural bread

Miroslav Mandic daily rose

M runs towards M

Miroslav Mandic modesty that protects every being from loneliness

Miroslav Mandic boys which are running through water

Miroslav Mandic before I create Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic while I’m singing Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic after the walking of Miroslav Mandic

Miroslav Mandic helps me being Miroslav Mandic

indivisible sameness

God is love

love transforms

God becomes God

I wrote yesterday the day before yesterday three four and five days ago but this is today

forty years ago in summer 1971 I wrote a text

Poem about Film because of which I was convicted. yesterday

I thought that it would be nice to write the Poem about Poem this summer

wow

it could be the famous summer 2011

richness destroys could be the first sentence of the Poem about Poem

at this moment I’ve decided that I will be writing the Poem about Poem

I will open a file Poem about Poem

I opened it and I wrote down

Richness destroys. Poem about Poem is immortal poem about immortality.

I am a happy man

I share the happiness with all beings

fucking delivers beings

singing creates all beings

fucking love-kisses singing

singing bows to fucking

I hug the loyal ones

I love-kiss the brave ones

s

p

i

n

e

o

f

m

i

n

e

I

l

o

v

e

-

k

i

s

s

y

o

u

my heels and Achilles’ tendons are sore from 10^th January. I saw this

editing this years’ blessings. my spine is bothering me for more than a month

everything is connected in the heart of an abused dog

will

into

the

heart

mind

into

the

heart

heart

into

the

pussy

and

cock

pussy

and

cock

into

the

poem

poem

into

the

resurrection

wow what a joy while I’m writing this blessing in which end resurrects the same wow

your

heart

pulsates

within

my

chest

s

p

s   p   i   n   e

n

e

I love to love

female artists love-kiss male singers of creativity

male singers of creativity are fucking with inconsolable ones

God is love

love transforms

God becomes God

I wrote yesterday the day before yesterday three four and five days ago but this is today

yesterday was Cioran’s birthday. in one text about him I’ve read

for a bad news he will be awarded with Rivarol prize, the only prize that

Cioran has ever accepted. And when Albert Camus told him: “Now you have to

get involved with the flux of ideas”, he thought: “Fuck off!” “You will understand, he will

give me lectures with his culture of a teacher”, he was confiding with Liiceanu; “he has

read some writers, but he doesn’t have a bit of philosophical culture and he is telling me:

now... as if he was addressing the pupil. I left. It was a great humiliation for me”.

the culture of teachers is poisoning everything in front of it

teacher is death for poetry

teacher is lethal for art

sadness

world of bodies

light

holiness

sanctum

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

heart

god

perfection

everything turned into a dot

everything comes out of a dot

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

poem

God

truth

beauty

goodness

beautiful

within

a

poem

of

good

and

beautiful

for

one

t

o

g

e

t

h

e

r