pakao

uvek otvorenog srca
pa je pocrnelo od mržnje

uvek otvorene ruke
više ne verujem u suze

uvek spremna da volim
al u ljubav vere nemam

uvek hodam za Boga
strepim da je stvaran

u svakoj pobedi
slutim pad

u svakom porazu
vidim slobodu

verujem neverici
no u svetu biram da vidim dobro

ne želim da živim
ne želim da se ubijem

ne mogu da oprostim
ne mogu da se svetim

ne mogu da nastavim
ne mogu da postojim ovako

ne mogu da promenim išta
ne mogu da tolerišem

jebena neuroza je tu svakog trenutka
jebena pokretna neizlečiva histerija
koja kida sve što histerično nije na delove
koja se bori sa svakim daškom smisla i harmonije
u jebenom otporu prema razumu
u grču da dokaže svoje ludilo kao razum
jebena kretenka bolesna u negaciji sebe
u negaciji realnosti
u negaciji negacije

kolektivna psihoza u kojoj se ljuljaju
podržavaju medjusobno svoja ludila
i truju pošten svet
lako bi bilo da je pakao tek kad umreš
i verovati da će se tamo doveka nastaviti agonija njihova
no agonija je najviše moja
a nema očiju kao mojih i ušiju da to čuju

sama sam sa paklom

Ostavi kletvu prokletima

ostavi kletvu prokletima
neka te ne preobrati u sebe zlo

neka njima ostane njihovo
a mi uvek imaćemo to

neka se i slade ako pomisle

da pobeda je njihova sva
jer pobeda nikad ne traje
a borba je sve što znam

neka im njihova ljiga i gadost
suzama je svojim spiram
jer znam da ću biti hiljadu puta gora
ako mačem počnem da to diram

neka im konfete i velika slavlja
jebe mi se pravo za ta sranja
ja nosim ovaj bol
mokri barut u duši
koji ima sve da zapali
samo da se osuši

seks i glad

Postoji izvesno licemerje koje kao da nije u skladu sa vremenom i trenutkom u kome živimo a to je da je seks sramota.
Iako vrišti sa naslovnica i instagram naloga, nije okej da žena kaže da nije svršila il da gleda pornjavu i ako ta tema promakne to je „ha, ha, imam vaginu“ humor koji odiše vinjačinom.
Koliko shvatam, zdravlje prostate zavisi od ejakulacije i saveti da se seksualno funkcionalan muškarac u tom smislu sputava su onda štetni.
Ima dileja koje pričaju da se čovek može hraniti suncem al nekako zanemare da spomenu momenat kad umreš od gladi.
Glad i društveni odnosi se percipiraju u istim centrima u mozgu, pokazala je nedavna studija koja je analizirala funkcionalnu magnetnu rezonancu mozga ljudi koji su gladni i usamljeni.
Možda umesto sunca, čoveku samo fali čovek.

Žrtva

„sva tišina ovog sveta ne znači da si sam“
to se noć čini večna pred dan
to se mrak goruši kako se suši
kako ga zrak svetla u daljini prži

sav očaj ne znači da je kraj
znači da je vreme, ljubav onda daj
vera i nada su banalne ako nasuprot nije totalni mrak
jer pred prazninom jedino možeš biti jak

moj neprijatelj nije ni taj mrak
ni sva tama što u svetu spava

moj neprijatelj sam ja sama

ja sebe rušim i uzalud gradim

idem ko prosjak od jedne do druge nade

očima vidim prizore mlade i stidim se

povinovala sam se a znala da prevara je sve

nema izvan ono što unutra nije

a ta maska samo taštinu krije

sirove nagone bez strasti i ambicije

nema višeg cilja da žrtvuješ sebe

žrtva je život

život je jeben

život je izdaja lepe misli o životu

zlo je u ljudima, desna noga je u grobu

kobnog jutra na levu smo ustali

nikad nismo nadoknadili to što smo propustili

najveći proroci nisu usta vam zapušili
sve što ste izgradili sami ste srušili

al kad se digne starina i mrak
praiskonska sila i prvi sunčev zrak
samo pravi jahač sešće na zver
jer zna se ko je gazda a ko je ker

moć se kali u bolu, u paklu, u patnji
žrtva nije ako je neko drugi plati

odseci svoju ruku pa žezlo uzmi

žrtvuj prvo sebe pa vladaj onda drugim

Karma

Mislim da ako sama srušim sve granice i odbrane da će se nekom alhemijom sama moja suština sabiti u prizmu kroz koji će sav taj bol teći neometano i prirodno kao svetlo, prelamajući se u neke druge boje.
Saznajem samo da loše mislim. Postoje reči koje lome, pogledi, gestovi koji pišu romane i svaki put zanemarim da naučim da sam prelako lomljiva i da prelako lomim.
Samo znam da me užasava razmera crnila, napuklina i mraka koju naslućujem i ne mogu da se usudim da mislim da ja i jesam samo jedan oblik mraka, prostor u kome se talasi lome.
Pre konačnog izbora, sve je konačno
Neprijatelj je sa druge strane jastuka
gleda me iz ogledala
Ne gledam srču da mi ne uhvati odraz i ne zarobi me zauvek tako fragmentiranu u neki iskrivljeni svet s druge strane stakla
i žrtvene vatre me plaše
u ugarcima i đubretu vidim zlo lošeg boga
i ljudi me plaše u ko zna čiju slavu hodajući
Talasi me lome i obavijaju bolom koji je tako dobro poznat
Bolom koji je svojevrsna stvarnost
Stvarnost kletve greške bolesti i raspadanja
Stvarnost klanja krvi parazitiranja i izdaje
Stvarnost dima razaranja masovnih grobnica i praha
Stvarnost straha i tuge
i ako sujetu išta zauzdava onda je to ta stvarnost
Zločina i kazne
Zakona akcije
Neumitne poetske pravde i suptilne ironije
i sva fikcija je tek bleda kopija
i reči su neme
i sve pesme su pogrešne sem jedne koja ne sme da se čuje.

People of China and about the Wisdom

I couldn’t understand some of their smiles and their voices were so much different from anything I heard before but such a feeling of complete disability to understand made me question everything I think I know.
I was as special and as good as people supporting me. I realized that being a part of a community cannot be replaced with any other skill. It is a special social category which is just an unit of organisation. System I deeply respect opened up to me. Such genius at work, each day, as precise and punctual as the way bees fly.
Everything was magical since. I got lost. I was always lost.
She gave me an opportunity to see under her veils of big thoughts and stone-hard principles and get to gaze upon some mind superior to mine. Such gentle soul with such a strenght and endurability.
Time is different there.
Weather’s different.
People highly respect every second.
Air was dripping all over me, inside me, from the first breathe my lungs were in shock.
It was all ever so frightening even though I didn’t need to worry about a thing.
Everything was different.
It’s really hard to picture everything but there it was.
My biggest worry was not taking in enough, not understanding the essence of China and constant struggle with being rude and strange towards people at times, ignorant as I am.
Strange notions – of clouds carrying Divine and many tales filled my night as sights of faces of locals and other foreigners, lush parks in the summer, mythological places and ancient stone filled my days. It was difficult to take in so much information. Yet, so eyes-opening and mind-bending.

That was three months ago. Now I cannot even feel blessed mindfulness and remember the ocean of tranquility it brought. Stale waters of Serbian routine got to me again. Hello, monochrony.

GODS HAVE NO SINS

In Ovid‘s narrative, Pygmalion was a Cypriot sculptor who carved a woman out of ivory. According to Ovid, after seeing the Propoetides he was „not interested in women“,^[1] but his statue was so beautiful and realistic that he fell in love with it.

Propoetides

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

In Greek mythology, the Propoetides (Greek: Προποιτίδες) are the daughters of Propoetus from the city of Amathus on the island of Cyprus. In Roman literature, they are treated by Ovid in his Metamorphoses (book 10.238 ff.):

Nevertheless, the immoral Propoetides dared to deny that Venus was the goddess. For this, because of her divine anger, they are said to have been the first to prostitute their bodies and their reputations in public, and, losing all sense of shame, they lost the power to blush, as the blood hardened in their cheeks, and only a small change turned them into hard flints.^[1]

The story of Venus and her vengeance on the Propoetides for failing to worship her properly is a common theme in a number of stories and poems written about the goddess.^[2]

According to Ovid, after seeing the Propoetides prostituting themselves, Pygmalion determined that he was „not interested in women“.^[3] This drove him to create a woman of his own in statue form, with whom he then fell in love.

In time, Aphrodite‘s festival day came, and Pygmalion made offerings at the altar of Aphrodite. There, too scared to admit his desire, he quietly wished for a bride who would be „the living likeness of my ivory girl.“ When he returned home, he kissed his ivory statue, and found that its lips felt warm. He kissed it again, and found that the ivory had lost its hardness. Aphrodite had granted Pygmalion’s wish.

Pygmalion married the ivory sculpture changed to a woman under Aphrodite’s blessing.

*This text is a mosaic created by copying and pasting Wikipedia material. Shout out for shared content and one love for the Truth.

Vagitus

There is a part of me screaming to be heard all of my life yet I was never understood in that particular message, nobody really listened to my cries and never have I felt I belonged anywhere in particular, except to the stories I read to make my thoughts move aside for some other ones.

I neglected my scream of existential despair to fill my head with fictional and surreal voices, telling me that life is something better and more noble than it has ever been.

Poets have no flags but white ones?

I gave in to imagination and ideals and I made the crucial mistake.

I gave away what I was to conform, to fit in, to adapt. What for? A fistful of disappointment? Delivered daily to your home?

I escaped that world of painful truth to enter some nicer one only to be regarded as a fool and an idiot. I didn’t care at first, while I was certain of my own perspective to be truthful but when the harsh reality nailed me to the ground, it was apparent that I made the worst deal in the history of trade.

I needed to face the darkness and the despair and the evil of this world and the evil inside, of me and every human I’ve ever met or heard of, to finally start realizing that the reality is a much more intricate story than any other ever written.

People mostly like to write about greatness and some kind of excessively advocated ideology but the real life takes no sides. It just keeps on developing like a Baroque musical piece that never ends. It evolves and revolves around the same thing. Not the Sun. The soul. What I call soul cannot be escaped because that is what human mind with its perception and experience is. It makes the world seem what it is.

Discover yourself and you will get lost in cosmos. And the trip will be never-ending.

Standing still

Sun was burning hot on that summer day as strong as it gets. The grass was dry and dead. Air didn’t move. Everything was still except for our hard breathing.

-Are you okay?

-Yes, just fine. I am only wondering if this is it. If this is life. If this is as good as it gets. I kept waiting for one goal after another to be achieved and I keep having goals yet getting to that imaginary destination doesn’t bring me peace and satisfaction. As if it’s only the beginning of a new journey, towards new destination, never ending spiral that brings me to the same point in my mind yet on another level. I do move yet as if that movement is in circles taking me into my better self ever so slowly, truly changing me slightly, apart from apparent movement and actions I experience. I am in constant movement in the same space all the time. Circling around my essence, never being able to change the course and escape the drive of desire and dissatisfaction with myself, never embracing my being, coming to the core. Circling around it in futile attempt to reach it and become one with what I want to be. As if that being is not even there, evading me as a ghoul in the dense misty forest of my ambitions and attempts to reach the ideal.

-You know, many people said that the meaning of a journey is not in the destination itself but in the means and ways of getting there.

-So I should embrace and cherish all the hardship, the pain, the suffering, and enjoy them?

-That’s implied. Pain is like fire for forging of our souls. If you endure strikes of the hammer of destiny, you will come out of it improved, purified and stronger. You should be thankful for the hardships and feel the life beating inside of you stronger than ever during them.

-It’s not that much about the suffering. I sort of enjoy it. As you said, it makes me feel alive. It makes me function. The trouble comes when the hardship ends and all that is left is that road behind me, crossed with many obstacles that don’t make me feel any stronger for getting over them. As if the results don’t match the struggle. As if the fight is more important than the outcome. As if the destiny hasn’t heard of fair-play and it won’t let me enjoy my small victories but keeps mocking me with them, as if it’s saying ‘Look, you pitiful being, look what you fought for. Was it worth it?’ and it never is. Every achievement seems so illusory, like I have been chasing a dream. I feel such sadness over my judgement. My will seems childish and left to chance. I feel as if I don’t have any power over the course of my life, as if my striving and choices are fundamentally wrong.

-You shouldn’t feel that way. Life is magical in its unpredictability and it usually gives you what you wanted in your deepest desires. That’s why it’s said to be weary what you wish for because it might come true.

-Exactly. That’s the part that frightens me the most. I met so many different versions of myself. I really do hate most of them and those that I respect now I threw away for some others that were more comforting at the moment yet that I regret so much now. All those wrong choices…

-Yet, here you are now. Beautiful, magnificent, sparkling with energy and life. Can’t you see that? All those bad choices made you what you are today.

-My thoughts, exactly. I could’ve been someone better, stronger, more capable to help myself and people around me and I do not feel any of that beauty and magnificence you are talking about. All I see is pain, as if my whole skin is one giant wound, as if my whole soul is tearing apart. I don’t want to die but I don’t know what I am living for. Hearing that you see me as someone special is really sad. Can’t you see me for what I am – nothing transforming into nothing constantly? How can you love me?

-I love you because you are me and I am you. I love you because you are the mirror of this world in which it reflects with such uniqueness. I will love you no matter what you become because you once were the essence of life embodied and for me that will never change. You may flow from one state of being into another but you will always be mine and I will cherish you inside me, as a part of me, as the world that you opened up to me.

-You might be insane, you know. – I said bursting into laughter. Yet life suddenly had meaning again. I had a purpose. It was there, looking at me with my reflection in its eyes.

Life was beautiful, once again, as so many times before and after that hot afternoon.

I just mustn’t forget that reflection. Never forget.

Of war.

I ran into data that in the past thousand years only two of them were spent without people slaying each other and trying to occupy someone’s territory. Someone told me that was improbable since people tend to be aggressive much more often. Ha.

If we take that as a premise, war is in our nature. I wrote about dominance before and about religious wars but I never wrote about killing of other humans in this context.

War is the ultimate dominance. It implies that certain level of power already exists and that now that entity is able to spare its resources on colonizing another center of power and resources. That is how empires were made.

When we see the consequences of abrupt abundance a war creates for the winners, we don’t think of victims that much. We are blinded by the glistening shine of prosperity but every victory takes its toll. Then we pay our respect for the victims when the things cool down and the bill is delivered. Then we still boast for our side of the conflict yet are trying to be ‘humane’ about it and admit that we made a mistake.

Mistake is a small word for a thing that keeps on happening. That is not a mistake. That is the rule. Our world is ruled by war. No matter what side you are on you are human as the person on the other side of your weapon. No weapon should be used and no shield would be needed if people were aware of the power they have. Our armies shouldn’t fight but unite. That is impossible because it is against the natural law, as stated above.

Try spinning your mind the other way. Is there any other way?

We live to oppose which is a lack of identity.

True power does not need confirmation, it is aware of itself and the destruction it may bring. Everything else is hypocrisy.