Nov 27, 2014

Let me tell you the truth

In this greedy world, where everyone is good deep inside, but too lazy or too stupid to do anything really good, all depends on luck.
Yes, most of us are thought to be honest and diligent, to be good student and to be diligent at work. We're thought to be social and patient and that results will come over time. But it's just 10% of reality. 90% is the dark matter that we rarely talk about. It's the luck.
I don't know what kind of the game God is playing, or does it have some higher meaning. All that I know is that the luck rules our lives. You can't influence it ; you can only be superstitious idiot.
So you think this is all some quasi-philosophical ranting and it has nothing to do with your life ? Thinking , because you have nice job and well-hearted friends and family, that you made it all by your inteligence or work is foolish. It can all go into abys within few weeks.
Just look back at how did you gat your job. Well ? What if you didn't ?
Now look at the sites where people share their thoughts and tricks about living in a car. One day you have it all, you are calm and clever , but the other day your job closes down. That you search for a new job, but can't find one. That all your friends and family let you down, because nobody likes to live your failure.
Than you decide that you don't want to beg anyone and keep trying. And your luck fails again.
The banks will not have symphaty and you will end up on a street. And homeless people are mostly doomed.If you can't find a job when you're at your best, how will you find one when you're hungry, depressed and didn't have a shower for days ?
I am not preaching fear, neither I try to find excuses for my failure. I'm done and I just want to write down all I can before I lose all my dignity. That will happen very soon.I don't know will I die or just continue with some pathetic dog-like exsistance, but I'd like to know what is this luck made of ?
When I was playing the cards, I simply felt those burst of luck coming, I was patient for them and I knew how to win. But I also always felt that there is some container with my luck and that it fills up and gets empty over time.
The arrow that shows ammount of luck that I have left hit 0 last year and stopped moving. Do I really have to go in this way ? I just have to admit one thing : dear God, your sense of irony is ultimate.

Nov 18, 2014

Big white fear


The train rumbles in the distance. Fast like a bullet he swallows kilometers  and is getting closer.
  Over the black rails which pass through deserted forests and abandoned villages train comes.
Faster and faster, as if dozens of tons of hot iron will explode.
Everywhere he went, time stopped . Only people  who rarely speak about it remain.
Train screams of rage. His power breaks mountains and burns rivers.
I wander in the tunnel in the dark.
I hear it louder and louder.

I do not know where to go.

Nov 14, 2014

Evil Country


So I smoke in the country where compassion disappears, as the moisture from the thin paper, through which smoke goes through.
In the country where all the good and bad burns away without the flame, quickly swallowed.
And where the best people are shaken off like the ashes.
The country where the streets are dirty and nasty, like an ashtray after a sleepless night.
Hopes are rising, swirling like a bluish smoke, which, through an open window
jumps out and disappears.

A cemeteries are like  cigarette butts, thrown at the tram station and kicked  in a corner.

Nov 12, 2014

Apollo 41


All  of your wishes, feelings and hopes, are contained in a box ,that muddy water  is carrying right into the claws of hungry rats.
It is futile to hit walls with fists, scratch with teary nails for some air.
Broken arms  do not pick strawberries.

We are all too selfish, so am I. We live in an era of selfishness. That's why we build churches where we wash hands and pretend to be praying for a long time.


XI 2014

My hands are falling down
like a reed in the stagnant water.
My head stumbles
likes a bike that crosses the railroad tracks.
I'm all root that
chains himself in the floor.
Only heart screams inside me
Shaking the bars of its cage;
How far is it to the big apple?
How far is it to the bread and taxes?

Large lunatic, a metal rod
Cracks me,  with a howl of protruding audience
In the middle of the road,
The truck comes around the bend
Children, it’s called

A panic attack.

Nov 11, 2014

Oath of the pioneer

Today when I become a pioneer of democracy
I give my hungry-of-all  word,
Yes I will diligently learn and work
To buy any diploma
Through connections or affiliations,
I will not teach like an idiot for years
To be forever stuck on the bureau of employment.
That I will be faithful and honest companion
To anyone who has more money than me
Or until they can do me a favour,
Yes I will love our young country
Until I get a visa
To go anywhere else -
And, when I come back again
Visiting relatives
That I will say that nowhere is such people like here
That nowhere the air and the sun is beautiful like here.
I promise I'll be fighting for the ideas of President
That makes everyone slaves of foreign banks
Except himself and his children.
That I will appreciate and love all people
Who want freedom and peace

Unless they’re coloured or queers

Instead of farewell


I never dreamed
How pathetic it is
At the end of the road.
That all that's left
Behind this false honor
In fact it is not enough
To pay for my funeral.

Just to be no more -
My time disappears like a leaf in the fire;
No one has the power to give me a hand,
Do not judge me
Forget fool.

I've been through the trenches and  the powder roses,
I passed betrayals, my blood and funerals;
My guardian angel raised the anchor,
So fast passed
This little deception ...

It’s hard for me and I’m very sorry

But it was too much.

Nov 7, 2014


9.6.1992.ut AP 329

My name is the darks -
frosty hands to us-
mean almost nothing.
Our hearts are in need of-
words that precede touches-
to make us feel like a little kitten =
black lumps under fire of howitzers.

My name is the dark -
and she is there on fire,
and her fingers are burning,
her whole body glows while she’s undressing =

-and for every word applies:

"throw away and cry"

legend of the ashes

23.11.1992. ap 552

I’m still lying down, the ceiling does not move,
inside me  moans grained and chained -
it’s warm , it’s soft and hunger is diminished,
-if there are no memories it would be comfortable.

I snooze on an empty dream, noon drews near,
clock is still clattering, grinds in empty;
empty are lies, empty are all people
that used to be my so called friends.

I cover my ears but sleep does not come,
voices of silence are ringing from inside;
in my head "today" does not come easy -
because I am yesterday- perhaps tomorrow.

still lying down, the ceiling does not move,
and huskies of pain a bit on the past;
-copper horse, VW and my Muzzly
all of mine, all of mine

Is stamped into my brain



thursday morning, December tenth,
magic  of lies encourages mindset;
tap drops ~with the  same rhythm  they go down -
each of them groan and scream, as they fall

here I am lying down, the ceiling does not move,
six thousand volts no longer flies;
silver horses are not even close to me -
the waterly  drill bores and bores

in the ocean
are all deserts,
sandy streams gurgling dry;
heavy mallet smacks your head,
drop after drop falls
                        -everything else is just a sea

thursday morning, birds can’t be heard,
crude dreams are full of blurred water;
Volkswagens are traveling  in my head-
drop after drop falls

                           -misgivings are flowing in

Nov 6, 2014

Perpetual showdown

Sept 2014
   The doors you’re opening up now are not only the passage from one room to another; they are passing from one to the other you - they are your going through yourself.
The time that is missing is not the time spent in going through the door, in fact, everything else is lost time, and that moment of passage is your shining moment.

And these people walking down the street, apparently do not know where or why they go. Streets are filled with people who are going somewhere to do something for someone .  Armies of people are walking like that to kill the time from death to death. And if so many people aimlessly wander, then somewhere a lot of the people are missing . Somewhere, where they are most needed, people are missing..

Untitled XXIII


Disgusting patients spit in green tissues.
Rotten IMV vans sleep.
Nervous doctors.
The old linoleum squares.
Dirty red and olive green booklets.
Dumb-same conversations.
A mother holding my hand.

Yeah, makes me sick,
Mother and scratched radiators,
My father with logic
Of frogs from the sewers.

And all this abominable thing.

bang, bang

24.10.92.sab AP0456

with fire in mind,
with a hole in the wall,,
with the power of breath-at the grave of my dust.
with a blast in the ears,
with heart inside ribs -
with the desire to stay alive through the rest of the day
I look at the branches and all around,,
with the hope that the day will come for willow weding guest -

Never Back Down +

Nov 5, 2014

Gray is also a color


We are all alone .
Beneath all these labels and likes,
behind the new phones and parked cars ,
-There are lost people

And if you ever tried to help ;
Did something to change the things ,
broke your hands and was a fool ,
-You can’t complain to yourself

The morning is clear, and the south wind
cleans my eyes, awakens my soul.
I drink coffee and pretend to be smart ;
I am calm-

It's good to be alive today.

If I die

18.04.92.lun AP 0205

If I die, when I die,
Let the aspen leaves flash,
Let the rain  not wash -
     the face of the one who killed me.

Do not let these dogs , Gentle one -
home, my eyes and dream with them.

I’m like a stranger in a strange land
losing  my own pictures,
grimly waiting for the breakfast in hell -
Cordoba falls without blood and shouting.

Tomorrow they will kill you
Tell me

did you say goodbye +

Agony of restrained one

          16,03,92 mon AP 0173

Located in the  nearby dump,
I sit slumped in the container;
I read in the newspapers about prison time for sadness, -
-Tonight I will have myself for dinner.

Planet summarizes my inheritance,
There is a photo in the newspapers- watching silent docks: -
Crumpled boats, I can’t help but  see

Nerve of mutilated invasion  of the obedient,
I’m tossing with a swing to hell  of despised,
Without moving my finger I kill the universe,

-in the garbage bin, away from the happy ones +

Nov 4, 2014



Hordes of dirty clouds travel through someone’s  sky
While chimneys pour the malice,
They raise the white pillars;
And down there on crumpled down street
Beggars pull your sleeves,
Old men rummaging through the trash
The children feed  pigeons.

And then when the sun crawls out
From den of the thawed night
Warming withered leaves,
Invasion of passers by starts to move
To receive their news for  the facebook.
And the rain goes somewhere else

And dogs drink from muddy puddles.


It's hard to teach an old dog  about new tricks,
Save monolith on water, from sinking;
And it's easy to talk when you believe in something,
And it's easy to believe in your own deception.

It is hard to manage when everything is getting around,
To walk the edge of a frozen creek;
And it's easy to look through other people's eyes
If there is some man in you.

It's easy to spend other people's misfortune,
Download what was left from the pile;
It’s difficult  for sky to gather  all the clouds
On days when the sun is not enough.


just sleep


and all the things you have to do to wake up,
and all the things you have to do to get to work,
and all the things you must do in order to work to eat,
and all the things you have to do to pay the bills,
and all that you have done not to make someone sad,
and all the things you must do in order to have something to wear,
and all that you have done not to make someone  angry;
and all that you have done to make it hurt less,
and all that you have done not to be called a freak,
and all the things you have to do to look better in the eyes of others,
and all that you have done that would  not show weakness,
and all that you have done not to become insane,
and all the things you have to do just to keep yourself warm,

and then they ask you why don’t you quit smoking ...

Just a few less dreams

01/22/2014. SA

All night they were spitting at tame,
Mashed their toes with rubber hammers.
To think they are happier than you,
Maybe smarter,
Not afraid,

Then they woke them up with cold water,
In the dank basement, chained.
To think that they are not alone,
That there’s no pain on their faces,
That they are not lost,


Nov 3, 2014


Drinking each other blood with the straws
Into large and very painful interwined cramp
Cold and curdled blood fills many corridors,
On the bench of the choked city
Smoking on the bench
I found me.

it’s a day for someone and night to someone,
Someone is going to happiness, someone to a tomb;
Someone is watching his children singing,

And wolves rip apart someone’s womb.

stump of the brain

stump of the brain
now and late
uncertainty alive, certainly pierced
with the sun without sun,
taken from myself
- when I'm not for people, then I guess I'm a monster.
when I fall sleep without shame
while walking, while  talking,
when my glass bells ring
what am I watching
when trains pass by?
- and just  crows follow me while I wander.
and what you really think of me
when rage, fire and hatred take over?
this is not someone that I need to be

I'm not worth more than my rags?



dead teeth biting dead flesh
dead moon heating dead soul;
rotten god overarched me
with blunt spokes now  he beats me
fuck the sun because it comes out,
all I have is just an illusion;
I spit on my dead parents,
my blood turns to shit
rotten soil jumps in my mouth
and from mouth - nothing comes out;
I’m all pagan, an idiot and a hog,
everyone can walk  over me with ease
let them step on,  let him kill me,
leave me crucified, I'm not going to run away;
I spent my whole life running away,

- I’m just seeking death, beloved rotten god

Buying time

                                                                   December 2013

winter is coming,
with cold smoke and dirty drains,
through the voices of people,  like birds pecking
and the cruel  boredom of death

buying time,
lowering the cushion between the horns
and reason why my beautiful son
lives in the house of the dead gods

how to believe
when I think about  throwing  myself under approaching car,
how to approach them when everyone is silent

and how to make you laugh my beautiful son

when I catch my thoughts

I only wish that it is not cold
in the wet ground, underneath all that grass,
that it is not narrow under those couple of boards;
and that in the dark, beside her head
she knows that my heart is beating for her
that she’s not afraid when she opens her eyes,
that she doesn’t  grieve because of my stupid tears,
that her smile of angel passes my face
wish she’s  in the sun, and the sun warms her;
because as long as I live she is  never alone,
-wish that she knows well

I will come to her

Faceless Void


In this sea of ​​my own selfishness
Disarmed of all that in what I believe;
I can’t speak loudly anylonger
About what is missing

In this dark glare of  nonsense
Stranded on one completely rotten beam;
I just watch the sun that raises boiling

And  keep quiet for all mine that is dead



it befalls sometimes,
like an angel I flutter through the sky
I open the door even before knocking -
cover my teeth before  the kick -
                                  .... just a little less often

in the country where they live on the hills,
and always carry, steal and spill around;
so tell them my dear ato
let them shut me down
                            if they have to

and where are you going, my dear ato,
head from one to another wall;
wish that I have some of your skull
and a little less

                   shame before you



People are a little better animals
Love is fabrication for those who do not know much;
Family are people who do not let you rest,
Friends are the ones who betray you at the end.

Cold is what constantly follows me,
The past is a pain that I do not want to remember;
Goodness is what I was born with
To prevent me to  defended from the evil.

Cigars are all that keeps me together.
Coffee is all about  I’m  looking forward;
And who could really know
That a guy like this, will starve and fail?

I do not want to go on the street because there is nothing
but continual parade of lies and vanity;
I just want to disappear into the fog,

my own part of peace and quiet.


                             05.03.06.sun ap

I could be better
or more soggy,
greater or milder
and perhaps even lower,
but not you-and what hurts you-
we're easy to forget

relentlessly pounding
like a train in the distance
-there I put too little coal;
because my hands do not keep anything.
I didn’t just deceive myself
-because you're not me.

when I know that you look in the mirror
and see me, hungry and ragged,
abandoned on the way between home and work;

probably that’s why it failed,
just some bits are left pure, -

you had enough of the gray face.

doors that should not be opened

16:01:06. Mon ap

there are doors
              that never
                          should not be opened,
because behind  is the mouthfull,
which cannot be swallowed,
it is much better to be silent

there are doors
               In every house
                            in almost every man,
which should not be touched
because behind there is no return

there are doors
which is the best to take to the grave
and let it disappear
                 together with bones

and it is not easy for anyone,
because there are doors
which you bypass daily

but if you open them
and return in one piece

      you were never a man

Thatched feast


The bone on bone
And nail through the flesh
On one ear rain
On the second heat
We break until somebody recognize us

Thatched feast

Never enough  of death
Oil  is under the soles
Dust is universe in itself
Mud is in the eyes
One arm is broken, the other nervous

Thatched feast

Only two bridges to Katowice
There, no one knows me

And mornings again

sons of the light


   let it be dark,
that fog and rain
    let never stop

let them raise pillars
    which  none can pass
let the beasts of cold
    forever fail

 let light to detect
    everyone's face;
so that I don’t fold tail
like a fatherless dog

    let it be dark,
that fog and rain
    never stop

let  the poles grow
    and drown the land
let thirsty to drink
    and raise his voice

let everyone have
    joyful awakening;
so that I don’t fold my tail

like a fatherless dog

When I wasn’t there

Admit , are you're dreaming  of the mighty horsemen,
Slaves who kiss their chains;
Do you know that I am a knife
that butchers me,
and rides on the neck
 on each of your illusions;

And if you sometimes I look sad to you ,
I’m only coming back
where one shouldn’t go.

Sorry, but I cannot give freedom to anyone.

-Electrical eyelashes-

trumpeters at the funeral
certainty in the cloud number 4
rhinos on the beach tiled with stars
heads  I yesterday rolled under the spoon
tadpoles in a brandy cauldron
electrical lashes under armpit
bronze hours in Japan - volcano
whom is this holiday for -flood?
grazing beside many centuries old tanks
and then they ate us
romantic reptile along the lines of destiny
operation in the four pears
undoing the muzzle
we do not talk
a lot

on a sidewalk goes, half undressed
Titoar - the king of reptiles
we cannot help, but worship him
because the lakes are full of our vertebrae
and our spines are lost holiday
 to us
for someone who is walking and someone who is talking
tales about olive tail
while ears distribute gifts
to someone who eats

then they dress us
in someone who sleeps

and they sleep in us -  in a coat

waiting / atesa

November 1997

there are always some bus that does not come,       (you before a mirror ,mount on your lipstick)
In every crowd
                  There’s a man that stands
                            blankly staring at me.     (just now you hop on the train).
                                            (There is no dust on your lips. )
                    I know that the discomfort is too strong to hold
                                                                           Night to remain night
                                                                           and my house  remain sunrise
                    There on her breast
                                                         There is some warm pepper
                    How to take the night

                                     With her and  without her

Acrobatic delirium

5 crematoriums of  soul
day is a box in which I am placed               ( Angels have left me long ago )

grubby city crushes on the thershold
 thirsty and tired  city                                (And I'm in the pockets of dead fish )
                                                                                        ( I stink of tar and dust )
I’m in this .                                    (walls of my room die)
Awakening ,that is when
With a block of granite you sink into the water,
a day is when you are slaughtered-
and released to die in a groan

For days I do not hear anything  except locomotives
below the ears I carry walls
-sluggish as clogged chimney .
And boring dogs
Roam without approaching me            ( Awakening that is when )
                                                                                        (  Without a crumb of strength you stand in the dark,)
                                                                                          ( and day is when silver nails )
                                                                                         ( crowdedly rush towards your throat. )
This is us
three fingers of cotton in the universal filth
The rain turns into snowflakes
And, like before
We slush through the same rails
undetained .
That’s how end comes
-persistently we sink in the mud
Because the mud is all that binds us +

November 1997

Nov 1, 2014


(change from dark gray to yellow)
V1996 0808

Caped with melancholy-modestly gloomy-I’m sitting, leaning on a hat.The watch runs late.Birds on branches drink bourbon.There is only one movement-.That’s me, below the icons, going into the abyss.
No wine in the basket.Tonight mosquitoes don’t bite.It’s time  to say goodbye to fire in the ash-we travel beneath the earth- with distance of passengers.
That’s me sitting alone- modestly gloomy -on a mountain of strenght.Screams of collapsed day fall beside me -
How many light bulbs tonight are extinguished in the universe?

I'm coming down to the Lisbon streets, streets embraced with light.Hot wind strikes the face.People climb up to see.I laugh with them.-Tonight we're all waiting for dandelion.Poor hope is resilient like bulrush-lights are changing-
I remember the Colossus of Rhodes and the coastal area; Dame that used to bring sliced watermelons and containers with icy strawberries.Only now I can paint the sun.
New Morning will smell on honey.I will leave two oranges in front of your doors -then together,we will break the arms

-of the world that is around us and soil that is within us.



four without injury,
I tremble.-
There comes an hour in which I do not know
below which stone there is snake
nor whome is the stone for.
than I dug in,
I do not know whether I sleep or hate:
I just know it hurts
and sinks

and fear.

pocket thinking

(cannot format it properly.Real format can be seen in "džepna razmišljanja" on Jutro njihove pobjede page)
27.02.1996 KSB 0787

uncelebrated hands                                                                                       INDIVIDUAL
-pocket thinking                                                                                           who stepped on passenger
-walker without ballerina                                                                              counting from 5-7
                                                                                                                   golden engravings on the wheels
weight of water                                                                                            soul coalesced with the Atlantic
-we are powerful fish
before the freshwater eclipse

I change my clothes in the abyss
Taking this this day for a walk =
he happily wagging its tail

this morning I gave my name to a dog



We are shepherding  our heads
I’m clopping my days, tied to water:
Our bright moments are in dust-
we became evyl.

all miseries are females,
concert for the apostles and the grave;
sex with shampoo
on rabbit paws,
and whisper from the bottom:
we became evyl.

toothpaste for breakfast-
I’m clopping  through hallways of dead soil

while sordid train shakes in the stomack.