Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

a

miracle

of

a

miraculous

poem

poem begins in a poet and it ends up in singing

poet and poem serve singing

singing celebrates poem and poet

every

poem

is

a

revelation

particle through which God’s poem is becoming

I’m walking through the Boulevard and singing

it’s summer time and the city got empty

poem

creates

life

a beggar woman is giving me back the joy

I would love to live million years and every day the same

same million years in each moment

same moment is the truth

moment of creating and becoming

creating and becoming are the one

one

love-kisses

everything

today I had an x-ray of both of my heels

and a heel spur could be seen on the left one

on the right one can be barely seen

I’m getting out of Umka

old Obrenovac road and river Sava are in front of me

enjoy with me on the road

go on vacation with me

the old road is empty

soft steps and silence on the road

it’s good to be the first. it’s good to be the second

it’s not good when You’re not the first. it’s not good when You’re not the second

happiness

on

the

road

man

rose

on

the

road

the

road

is

experience

of

rose

rose

is

a priory

road

I walked sixteen kilometres. there is another ten or so to

Belgrade. I wasn’t hitchhiking for a long time. I hope somebody will stop

a hitchhiker is a beggar on the road

I’m walking and begging

walkers are beggars of beauty

beggars are walkers of goodness

it’s drizzling

sandbar of relief

it wasn’t raining for days

draught had turned into a natural disaster

air smells good

grass is almost completely seared

pants are in agony

they are thirsty

for everything that is thirsty I repeat

it wasn’t raining for days

draught had turned into a natural disaster

air smells good

grass is almost completely seared

pants are in agony

they are thirsty

I’m calling out for rain

it wasn’t raining for days

draught had turned into a natural disaster

air smells good

grass is almost completely seared

pants are in agony

they are thirsty

calling out

come rain come

people say that the price of food will go up because of the drought

how will the poor ones do

how will those who are dying of hunger do

rain just rain

I’m in the wind

dreamy

yesterday’s walking has worn me out

I enjoyed immensely on the road

I love to be in the open

surrounded by a landscape

with earth underneath my feet and sky above me

I’m just going

the music of being

rain just rain

when pain stops grace is spreading

last night my stomach was hurting me

a moment ago as well. passed several days as well

anyhow

I’m going

my name is I-Am-Going

me I-Am-Going I’m going

I’m going and enjoying in street dogs

I’m going through the name

I’m going and I’m thinking

I’m going and I’m writing

I’m going just going

I’m writing just writing

I’m going and I go away

whenever I go away I meet I-Go-Away

the two of us are one

one

on

the

road

walking

rose

we are going and salute a pigeon which is watching us bending his neck

I-Am-Going is going – celebrating I-Go-Away

I-Go-Away goes away – I-Am-Going waits for him

I’m going through the Savska Street towards

the city and I’m enjoying in I-Am-Going and I-Go-Away

I find their names beautiful

I deeply respect what they are doing

I-Am-Going is simply going

I-Go-Away simply goes away

hey if everybody would be like I-Am-Going and I-Go-Away

I-Am-Going I-Go-Away and me are accompanied by the slight rain

last and the night before it was raining

soothed the thirst just a little bit

today is stuffy

it’s wonderful when I-Am-Going takes care of I-Go-Away and I-Go-Away of I-Am-Going

I’m going I’m going I’m going and in the end I go away

I go away and in the end again I’m going I’m going I’m going

let’s go You and me like I-Am-Going and I-Go-Away

I’m walking through the woods

rain is rustling in the leaves

it’s thundering

after a thunder air gets colder

wind is starting to blow

water of the lake is rippling

it’s beginning to pour with rain

it’s pouring

I hid under the eaves and I’m watching

freshness in my nostrils

it’s pouring heavier and heavier

it’s beautiful

I’m a bit cold

I’m watching one tree and I can’t stop wondering how beautiful it is

rain is indescribably beautiful

it’s pattering over my eaves

I’m enjoying the music of the rain

I’m slumbering

rain makes You drowsy

I curled up in order to warm myself up

from time to time a drop or two fall onto my bare skin and make me even colder

through the pattering of rain I could daydream for days

constantly calling all deceased

I moved under a better eaves of a restaurant and lolled into cushions

I’m slumbering like a big animal

I’m enjoying like in a purple womb of eternity

I’m thinking about enjoyment

particles are harmonising and enjoying in each other

rain is stopping

sun is appearing

sun is glowing over the sill wet asphalt

sun is shining more and more

stuffiness is even greater

powerless

last night my stomach was hurting a lot

I don’t know how to help myself

I’ll shave myself

I’m going on the road

I’m on the road

I’ll be walking and hitchhiking

there is Sava down there

I’m crying from beauty to be on the road

the

road

is

traveling

towards

the

rose

the essence of the road is in the rose

the essence of the rose is in the road

a woman and two men are traveling on their bikes

I’m on the road to Banjani right now

somewhere on that road Mirjana will come with her car to meet me

I’m on the levee of and old Obrenovac road

I love levees a lot

they are soft for walking

this levee is guarding Serbia from floods

I love Vojvodina levees next to which wooden posts are traveling

I’m sitting at the computer

bathed

rosemary is smelling good on the desk

I was on the Obrenovac market

I bought Branko’s bread

I drank hot chocolate in the city pub in Obrenovac

I swam across the Sava two kilometres away from Ostruznica Bridge

Sava is tame

slow

warm

on the Vojvodina side I walked a bit upstream and swam back

it’s wonderful being in the middle of the river

connecting two banks with swimming

with body

with the tiny one

I’m going to Smederevo

I’m walking

Sathurday in Smederevo

being in a day is gratitude and bowing to a day

it’s exciting to be on several places in one day like on one place

I picked up two warm and big plums in Grocka

I’ve never been to Grocka

I love to be somewhere where I’ve never been before

being anywhere means always being

in the centre which is everywhere and periphery which is nowhere

somewhere where I’ve never been reminds me of childhood

yards are full of fruit

wherever I am I’m here

whenever I am here I’m everywhere

I’m happy for the fruit

I’m walking through Grocka and think through rose

I love when thinking opens up with all its rose-like petals

through

myself

everyone

everything

there is the Danube as well on the left side of the road

I find it beautiful when the whole world is under my hand

I am a descendant of wild horses

one and only tame horse the horse that wanders through the universes of hearts of all beings

I love the beauty of the road and freedom of

being on the road even though I don’t like to travel

I was never in Smederevo but soon I will walk into it

I’m entering Smederevo

Danube and shipyard are waiting for me

it reminds me of how I used to walk into big European cities

there was no shade on the Smederevo

road so I was walking all the time in the hot sun

how do my walking shoes feel

little yellow bird has flew on the fence and it made my heart flicker

I’m in Smederevo

I’m walking down the Smederevo jetty

several boys and girls are jumping from one raft and having their eternal bathing

after Smederevo I was bathing as well in the cold Danube in Jugovo

one guy in Sathurday

very tired I’m walking through the Boulevard

happy

I

love-kiss

you

with

your

happiness

a waitress in the café Kica in Belegis said yesterday that the water in Danube

was twenty seven degrees up until few days ago and that it is twenty one right now

bread is like sun

said one guy from Belegis for bread in Belegis

summer swallows were circling above the church tower in Belegis

a huge young man appeared as well – a village fool obviously

two three young men who looked like stars

of a local football team have passed by as well

big black dog was gentlemanly crossing the centre of Belegis

we went through the dust to the Belegis beach

we went pass the landslide

birds were flying in and out of the nests they made in the hard land escarpment

swallows were tremulously flying over the Danube water

families were crossing over with boats to the Belegis sand river island for bathing

the two of us went into the water as well

hung on a tree the bread like sun mayonnaise tomatoes and cardinal grapes were waiting for us

we were walking upstream over the land and in the shallow water

the more we go upstream the longer we will be in the water

Danube has a strong current and it’s the best to swim downstream

she was walking behind me with her flip-flops hung on the swimming suit

I was enjoying walking through the shallow water

it was like in my youth on the Danube

at one moment I slipped over the wet slippery clay

we were passing by the willow trees and tied boats

Danube was flowing from infinity towards infinity

world was indescribably beautiful

that’s how it is always and forever

then she screamed

I turned around and saw that her hand wad dangling

she slipped and fell down

the elbow joint of her right arm popped out

pain was unbearable

nine hour struggle with pain has begun

only just before midnight the joint was back in its place

elbow was put in the cast

heart was calming down without pain

now it’s Monday

Monday should be celebrated

surrendered to the humble joy

I’m going to the lake but slowly

I was eating before the walking

from today I will try to eat five times a day

struggle with my misery is constant

slowness I love-kiss You

white-yellow seared grass only after the rain is beginning to get a bit of green colour

I’m snoozing while walking

everything is dear

it caresses dearly

I am a tender touch which caresses all beings in each being

I’m inhaling the water and sky to wash me from within

I’m still tired from her Sunday pain I was the witness of

I’m lying on the warm pebbles

wind is in flames

leaves are murmuring

planes are flying over

I really am I-Am

I’m spreading my nostrils

I’m puffing up my belly

exhaling for a long time

I nearly fell asleep

I’m enjoying like mountains and crocodiles

through waves of wind I’m getting in and out of sleep

have a rest and refresh through my enjoyment

though enjoyment I’m affirming everything that is

enjoyment through everything that is it’s a great task

being through everything that is it’s a great mission

being is experience of heavens

life is serving the life

poem

is

singing

of

poem

while I was slowly immersing myself in the water I carried on snoozing

I’m snoozing even now while walking

I’m closing my eyes and enjoying

I’m levitating

surrendered I’m identifying myself with the wind

i am god

i am i

i am alone

i am the best

i am a poet

i am an artist

i am a walker

I read this to Vladimir Macura at the Albanian guy’s confectionary

i am god

it’s dearest

to god

i am god

it’s dearest

to me

i am god

it’s dearest

to you

i am god

it’s dearest

to all beings

i am i

sings each i

i am i

love-kisses each i

i am i

i of one

and only i

i am i

i god

i am alone

alone for everybody

i am alone

mother and father

to everyone

i am alone

husband and wife

to everyone

i am alone

son and daughter

to everyone

i am the best

unimaginable

but

existing

i am the best

created

but

unborn

i am the best

scent of phyllo dough and noodles

from the Vardar workshop

in Sarajevska street

i am the best

the bud of all beings

i am a poet

just to say

i am a poet

i’m singing your face

i am a poet

three short sleeve

plaid shirts

which i don’t have

i am a poet

i make

a poem

from any

word

i am an artist

i make a temple of love

from any poem

i am an artist

creating

of uncreated

i am an artist

fragility of eternity

i am an artist

joy of resurrection

i am a walker

the music of slow

walking

i am a walker

unknown milka

with whom i walked today

from gazela bridge to lake ada

i am a walker

of undiscovered

closeness

i am a walker

of incomprehensible

distances

swallow

grass

road

rose

I laid down in the shade in warm pebbles

warmly flaring wind is making me fall asleep

there is only a little bit of shade left

wind is shuddering the hair on my thighs

I fall asleep in a moment

I put right leg on top of my left knee and I feel pleasure

there is a lot of political prisoners in many countries

democracy is crumbling

world is sliding towards dictatorships

there is a lot of hungry ones

a lot of unemployed

a lot of selfishness

a lot of spectacles and fun

greed

fear

lies

there is the most of ingratitude

some people are delightful

all beings are wonderful

the voice recorder is being alone on my belly waiting on this blessing

my hair is wet from the sweat

bread and butter

what a rare delicacy was it when I was young

I used to love drinking cold milk from the bottle with bread and jam

soon I will go for a swim

I will be coming back in the greatest heat

in the evening I will walk once more and once more I will bathe

I moved to the other shade

I still feel like lying

I’m surrendering to the goodness

I finished reading trilogy about Tolstoy

now I’m reading the Memories by Milutin Milankovic

I feel sleepy again

I’m more fragile than the eternity

I’m turning onto the belly

same is life

different is death

love is life

being in love is death

love identifies with the other

being in love satisfies itself

life is death

art is life

poem is eternity

art is the same

poem

through

the

same

is

the

same

last night on the beach my mobile phone and keys of the House of All Beings

have slipped down the belt. I realised that after two kilometres. right away I returned

with Ivana through the dark woods. on the place where we were bathing Ivana called me

from her mobile. at first nothing could be heard. but then Johnny Cash who rings when

somebody calls me started to sing somewhere from the ground. I laid on the pebbles

from happiness. what a relief. what a joy

heat is great again. it’s already passed noon. I’m off to have a swim

I was on porno sites

I’m always repeating and I will be repeating that I deeply respect people on porno sites

man’s revolution and evolution are in sexual relationships

in closeness and holiness of vicinity

closeness regenerates not enslaves

friendship of all beings

not Eros and Thanatos but Eros and Eternity

intimacy is the one and only public of all beings

new is salvation

only in new survives old

new is now

always now

only now

all of these people on the beach who I love-kiss

even though they don’t know I love-kiss them

all beings that I love-kiss but they don’t know I love-kiss them

my joy is prayer for all beings

my joy is an embrace of each being

I’m lying. it’s glowing. murmuring. whistling. quieting. resting

enjoying is service to God

care about all beings

light and shadows are flashing over my face

water is waiting for me to bathe it

consciousness of beauty

Pussy Riot

how just good and beautiful is that name for a female punk band

Mozart-like

Pussy Riot (Pobuna pičke) sounds the best in Serbian

Pussy Riot is in English

Pussy Riot sounds the best in each language people are using

Nadezhda Tolokonnikova

beauty will save the world

Pussy Riot are the Olympiad of the Spirit

Olympiad of Freedom which is taking place every day around the world

everyone who lives for freedom is a member of the Pussy Riot band

I am a member of the Pussy Riot band

Olympiads of Sport Games which is taking place every four years is

a mask with which crime over the Olympiad of the Freedom and Spirit is committed

women are brave

while I was watching Nadezhda I remembered that

I was also in jail when I was her age for the same reason

her because of Putin me because of Tito

both for freedom

Nadezhda has a four year old daughter

Nadezhda is a mother of freedom

freedom of every child

mother of beauty

pussy

dick

freedom

love

pussy and dick unite

I’m off

enjoyment is duty

my swimming trunks have busted

today instead of three plaid shirts I got two beautiful blue ones

today is exactly eight years since I’ve stopped drinking

Srdjan Valjarevic wrote to me this morning

Pussy Riot is really good name for freedom

love of consciousness

a

miracle

of

writing

and

singing

is

a

miracle

of

god

god

in

every

word

god

every

word

not

more

not

less

singing

caressing

through a whisper

a cosmic one

grassy

sparrow-like

spirit

of

a

poem

sings

the

body

of

singing

joy

of

refinement

refines

the

joy

I love-kiss You love-kissing

I love-kiss You walking

I love-kiss You singing

whatever

i

write

it’s

god

whatever

i

write

it’s

god’s

glory

sing

of

a

poem

path

of

a

road

bud

of

a

rose

foot

in

the

dust

foot

in

the

grass

face

of

a

foot

whirling

through

serving

rejoicing

through

modesty

enthusiasm

through

goodness

calmness

through

beauty

agreement

through

courage

in

step

in

poem

in

step

in

road

in

step

in

rose

in

step

god

they say that there won’t be any more of such hot days

today already is less hot than yesterday

breeze is cooling me through my new unbuttoned blue shirt

a little girl who is coming my way is watching me

suspiciously because she sees that I’m talking into the voice recorder

I’ve cut my finger nails before I went for walking

I do that every seven-eight days

toenails I cut every two-three months

shaving every other day

hair cutting every five-six months

showering twice a day

hair washing every other day

hair in my nose and ears once a week

eye exercises every morning

ear rubbing every morning

stretching and five minutes exercises every day except Saturday and Sunday

one and a half meal every day

washing dishes every day

passing urine every day

passing stool every day

massaging the heels and Achilles’ tendons from time to time

prayer several times a day

porno sites every two-three days

laundry once a week

sewing and darning clothes when needed

wiping the dust of my sports shoes from time to time

cleaning the flat every ten or so days

cleaning the keyboard with alcohol every month or two

buying food just for that day every day

lacing up and unlacing shoes two-three-four times a day

reading two-three times a day

reading before sleeping a must

tossing and turning during the night twenty or so times

deepest sleep after six in the morning. getting up before eight

last night I’ve read it

a moment ago I thought to myself I should transcribe it

so that it should walk down the roads of blessings

since being somebody means being everybody

and being everybody means roading and singing

and a moment ago I transcribed it for You my beloved

all my beloved beings

to my beloved Fernando Pessoa

mister Alberto Caeiro for You and all of you

My glance is clear like a sunflower.

I usually take to the roads,

Looking to my right and to my left,

And now and then looking behind me...

And what I see each moment

Is something I'd never seen before

And I'm good at noticing such things...

I know how to feel the same essential wonder

That an infant feels if, on being born

He could note he'd really been born...

I feel that I am being born each moment

Into the eternal newness of the World...

I believe in the World as in a Daisy

Because I see it. But I don't think about it

Because thinking is not understanding...

The World was not made for us to think about

(To think is to be eye-sick)

But for us to look at and be in tune with...

I have no philosophy: I have senses...

If I speak of Nature, it's not because I know what

Nature is

But because I love it, and that's why I love it

For a lover never knows what he loves

Why he loves or what love is...

Loving is eternal innocence

And the only innocence is not think...

thirty nine years ago on this day I came out of the prison in

Sremska Mitrovica and watching the sky I decided to go towards the sky

sky by sky

sky road

blueness through cosmic blueness

First 33 Day Bowing from 9^th August to

15^th September 2010 was dedicated to nonviolence

Second 33 Day Bowing from 9^th August to

15^th September 2011 was dedicated to poem

with the Third 33 Day Bowing which is

beginning today I’m bowing to the book Miroslav Mandic 

all three bowings are dedicated to freedom

to the writing of freedom

f

r

e

e

d

o

m

o

f

w

r

i

t

i

n

g

to the joy of firstly created and creating of every moment

I’m bowing to myself and I’m writing about myself in order

to thank that young man who took me on this wonderful journey

I’m bowing to myself so that I would even more joyfully bow to God You and all beings

I’m writing about myself so that I wouldn’t

hurt anybody or leave out anybody and nothing

I’m writing about myself because that’s the

best way to write about You and everyone and all beings

I’m writing about myself because that’s how I am God

God’s glory and glory is God and it belongs only to God

god

poem

god

to

poem

god

of

poem

through writing about myself I’m gardening myself and through myself

the best way to break away from myself

I’m writing through myself about myself

I’m writing about myself so that I am

I am so that I would write about myself

I’m writing about myself because I believe You love reading about Yourself

I’m writing about myself because I’m singing creation and the very beginning of creation

I’m writing about myself so that the creation of the beginning would sing about itself

I’m writing about myself so that I would write about one and only one

I’m writing about myself so that road would be road

rose rose. but rose road. and road rose

I’m writing about myself because I’m slowly pronouncing

these words of existence while lying I’m bowing to the warm pebbles

I’m writing about myself so that the writing would write about itself

I’m writing about myself so that I would serve and surrender to modesty

I’m writing about myself because I’m nothing more than poem

I’m writing about myself because only through poem I’m everything

on the spine of the first book Miroslav Mandic a letter M is imprinted

on the second book a letter i. on the third a letter r. on the fourth still

not printed will be a letter o. on the fifth s. on the sixth l. on the

seventh a. on the eighth which I’m actually writing a letter v

Miroslav is the name of eight books

the name of future six books will be Mandic

fourteen books of the book Miroslav Mandic

fourteen books of the one book

one book of one poem

poem Miroslav Mandic

dick of the poet and pussy of the poem

every moment yearning for each other

every little part of a moment loyal to each other

wedded by singing

that is the book Miroslav

the name of one name

I’m thinking of who I was writing about in

the Miroslav and every hair on my body shudders

constant fucking

lullaby fucking

sanctity of permeation

yes baby yes

shake baby shake

go

little-god

god

God only God

my tattoos

Oljenkas of my life

loneliness

Goddess of my singing

from a source to a confluence

from one to the other shore

through a rose-like circling of water

with swallows over the water

with winds over the skin in the heart and brain

with every little being

through the courage of cooing

through the clitoris of innocence

through the head of freedom

hey Miroslav hey

straight and oblique lines

thick and fine lines

straight thick lines

oblique fine lines

diagonal and curved lines

breathless

practice of penmanship in notebooks which were called practicing notebooks

first grade of primary school

reading

writing

counting

discovering the hand

miracle of transformation

combining lines into lettert

connecting letters into words and sentences

wind is blowing and I can write wind is blowing

I was amazed how my father could write so nice

just how beautiful his signature was

he was doing it with a pen

the base of my writing is within the magic of learning penmanship

back then I was learning to write the very letters and very writing

mathematical hymn

today I’m learning how to write beauty and goodness in every word

beautiful writing to the good writing

(“penmanship” in Serbian is “beautiful writing”, T.N.)

I’m writing the miracle of the world which lives in writing through majestic peacefulness

today I’m learning to write that love is everything

that love love-kisses freedom

freedom loyalty

loyalty primeval-sex

primeval-sex pan-sex

sexy

very sexy is that writing

sexy child writes to the runaway child

runaway child reads sexy child

write me beautifully

says the runaway child

read me with goodness

says the sexy child

in the garden of writing there is a lot of different and diverse writings

writing on wood clay rocks

writing over our own skin

I say I and I write I

consciousness and self-consciousness

I’m writing and writing and I write everything about myself

everything about the world

everything

about

god

I scream

sing

witness

I start loving everything I’m writing over

walls stones wood grass skin cartons paper glass screen…

I start loving everything I’m writing with

wood nails chalks pencils pens typewriters computers…

I start loving to write

I start loving to read

I start loving everyone who is writing and everyone who is reading

writing was also done through walking

one of the most beautiful writings is the splice of roads on the globe

writing was done through plains and mountains

writing was done over houses and temples

jails and madhouses

at the table and while walking

sober and intoxicated

rapturously and calmly

whatever was written it was always written about oneself You and God

the best one was writing the best

a poet

every word of his is trembling throughout the Universe

through each word love vibrates in every being

hey pieces of paper with the last message

hey book which exist for thousands of years

and was read by thousands and thousands of people

hey

writing

hey

rose-like

godly

I’m beginning to write a book which is already writing itself on its own

so tiny is that what I’m starting with. elusive. invisible. silent

nothing – which gives birth to – everything

that’s how it was two thousand seven hundred eighty two days ago

on 6^th January 2005

everything started with truth

I began with I’m beginning

with that word everything began and it lasts

light of the beginning

nothing which transforms into everything

birth

rebirth

creation

a thought of a heart

a heart of a thought

I’m beginning to write – hey how beautiful is that

I’m starting to write that I’m starting to write

fuck

a book which is already writing itself on its own

a book which walks on its own

which flows

flies

glows

circles

trembles

intertwines

with the first word

first blessing

with the tiny one

with tinier than tiniest

w

i

t

h

g

o

d

elusive

invisible

silent

first blessing is within each blessing

first word is in every word

the very beginning is in each beginning

everything