Everybody knows how terribly painful exile is.
Exile is maybe more painful than the road to exile.
Memories from the past help you not to fall apart.
You end up living in the past.
Because the past becomes your only asylum.
The present is misery.
The future? Who knows…..
Many things are unforgivable.
Death? No death is not unforgivable, you can even die in style.
What’s truly unforgivable is a bad movie, a bad book, bad music, that’s unforgivable.
Whenever somebody commits a terrorist attack, or a delict, he is first and foremost aiming at the intelligence of the victim. It’s a way of brainwashing. Having survived these sort of things is already a victory.
The same applies to the logic of the dictators. They hate alliances, because they consider the world their home, and they HATE losing in their own home……
We all read the newspapers, but is there anyone there you actually know? NO. So why do you read it? At this stage of globalisation we are all walking radios…… What’s the difference between a journalist and a politician? None. So, before you are brainwashed by another newspaper, think about this. We are all strangers. Spitting hate on each other. Under capitalism and under communism. So, remember, when you get out of your house, and leave your dearest family, don’t forget to put your mask on and get ready for the jungle.
I am silent when I look at you
My life is a poem
I can not go back
I cannot reread my life
Therefore, the future is my destiny
What am I looking for?
I still don’t know
But poets never know what they are going to write next
As sentences burst out of my mouth like a gulf bursts out of the sea
I never know what I am going to write
But I certainly don’t look back,
Which doesn’t mean I have lost my memory
But many people I have met where terrible books
I am silent when I look at you
And think: Could I dance with this person?
I always asked myself what people kept secret.
The story changes with life.
We think about life,
We think about pain,
We think about the Jesus and Mary Chain.
What’s freedom? Freedom is first and foremost: Language.
Secondly, it’s reflection.
Thirdly, it’s elegance.
The future is a promise,
The past is always lonely
The present is a scapegoat
That’s why butterflies fly.
To escape from the present
Where they are the scapegoat
Of past miseries.
The writer has to be alone, to write
Please give me a poem! There is too much noise in this town.
We separate the scars and walk inside them
We think about the marvelous times in Serbia
We trust our grandparents
We realize that love is something cultural
We reach for something new
We long for nature
We don’t think that space and time are distant
We reach out for love /
There is always a way
We think about our ancestors
And maybe we walk backwards
Cry, like eagles cry
Dream, like eagles dream
Hell, is not knowing the truth
The night rests upon our sleep
The storm of our dreams
Never lets us sleep
We wake up
Faithfulness is an empty word
An abyss of time reminds us
That we are here to complete
The mission of our ancestors
That we are here to endure
That life is worthless
We took the blows
And like a boxer
We still stand
That’s weathering the storm
It’s time to stop
We are not here anymore
We are the precious beings that God once thought of
I see in your eyes that your lips are blossoming
You left me behind
Like a dog
And this dog is suffering
Because in the earth, and in the sky, and beyond that
There is no space for us two
There is no time for us two
There is no story of us two
And this untold story
Releases in me
The immediate pain
That untold stories so often produce