Tuesday 7 November 2023

Old poem in English

Deviant thorns' appetites


I wondered which would miss me

when the collision came

of what is seen

somewhere in between

throw the words

of dreams that have passed

as a destructive spree

of bloodiness

who will filter pieces of some

so called me

in a fleshy mess

of acceptable and pestilent glee

with pricking knives

who have penetrated deeper

into gray psyche

_______________________________

19th September 2012

at 2:45 am



Wednesday 11 October 2023

Nova edicija: Vizuelna poezija

 

Bacanje pogleda preko okolnih pejzaža
 



Taj toksični pozitivizam!!
Na malim ekranima društvenih mreža!
Nervira više od plastićnih lica nepotizam-manekenki –
                            njihovih superkukova, superjagodičnih kostiju, supersupersuperzarada
                            i onda im se pridruže i supersupersuperspisateljice sa svojim supersupersuper fotografijama
                     pelena koje su upravo presvukle svojem novorođenčetu
                     remek-delu života i umetnosti – majka – ognjište – Balkan
                                                                                                                  još i pravoslavlje – katolicizam – ne-abortus – ne, nikako! – greh! – smrt!
                                                       onda klinac, učen da puca u streljani, jer puca se na svadbama uz Cecinu Kukavicu
                          Karleušinu pičku sa naslovnice, ili ipak, Seka Aleksić ima bolju?!
 
 
A onda spisateljice i ostale majke-um(j)etnice, kao um(j)etak staviše to novorođenče –
                                           to um(j)etno um(j)etničko delo na naslovnice social networks.
Pa umesto međunožja Karleuše, Seke i ostalih Ceca iz ministarstava kulture i prosvete
                                                                                                               gledamo ta spisateljska dela, čitamo bebi-kake, bebi-povraćke, „dete nije pričalo do.....“ (ne znam koje godine) – nagrada za najbolje delo.
 
 
Atletske povrede šire se.......
Nisam skontao vic. „umočiću“ reče siromašna devojčica iz crtanog filma koja jede tvrdi hleb kao i njen brat, svakog jutra. Poput moje sestre i mene dok smo delili tvrdu kiflu od prekjuče, s pavlakom. „da nisi aseksualan?“ – jer pošto će devojčica da umoči to je valjda neki seks (??!!).
             Ne razumem.
             Ne želim da znam ništa o pelenama.
             Ni zašto je neka raširila a druga ipak nije raširila to međunožje na štriku socijalne mreže.
             Ni zašto je to dete koje neće progovoriti nagrađeno kao lik najboljeg pisanog dela.
            
 
Pokrali su me. Uzeto mi je 1900 funti za lažni stan. 480 za pravi zbog buđi, ali vlasnik, beli kapitalista i of course Englez – može mu se.
Sve to me ne zanima.                          
 
                                                                              ̃⫸Moje misli                                    putuju nebom do najboljeg prijatelja.
                                                                                                                       Tamo sam, s tobom ♥!̃ 

                         ˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜
  ˜̃̃̃̃̃̃̃̃̃̃̃̃̃     ̃̃˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜̑̑̑̑̑̑̑̑             €£¶̃˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜
»»»»»»»»̃̃̃ǂǂǂǂǂǂǂǁɅɰɰɰɰ̑ʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘ ʘʘʘʘʘʘ ʘʘʘʘʘ ʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘʘ
ʘʘ  ʘ                   ʘʘʘʘ                   ʘʘʘʘ
            ˥˦˧˧˧˥˪˫˫˫˫˫˫˥ǂ                                   ˿˿˿˿˿˿˿˿˿˿˿  
      .......putuju nebom, a onda sam pao.......
                                     Srušio sam se u postelju Hillingdon bolnice.      ˿˿˿˿˿˿˿˿
˿˿˿˿˿˿˿̑͜          Menjali su mi krv..............................                                                                           
  ▼•  ̃̃̃?$↭                    Odlučio sam da preteknem Anne Sexton◄▓□□□□□□▼
                                                                                                                                                U                                                                        noći                             između ponedeljka i utorka. 12♠ & 13♣ juna.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
                                                                                                                                                                                                                         __█__
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
                                                                                              Ali, nisam uspeo.................__♥___˿
                                          Eva Hesse reče: ◄◙► Hung UP!!!
 
 
_______________________________
 
6.00pm – 6.26pm
12.06.2023.
ponedeljak
/Costa coffee, Tesco, Yiewsley, UK/
(dovršeno 13.06.2023. u 10.48pm,
utorak, Yiewsley, soba 5)

 

/Judita Šalgo/



Wednesday 4 October 2023

poetry in English

 

refraction of the container spectrum

 

I am haunted by refraction of life

lost on every side of the spectrum

suppressing pain (there is no other way in the universe)

as an experiment I move my thoughts

over the tragedy of everyday alone

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

2.23pm – 2.26pm

Sunday

20th August 2023

(somewhere in my hometown)



Self-Harming


Died body walking home

Hammering into an empty meadow

Grarage door in the snowscape of my own childhood -

Arrows of vulnerability

Nobody cares about the funerals

The days burned off for a dinner


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


2.58pm - 3.00pm

Sepember 11th 2023

Monday

/London/






Fission plus fusion equals a question mark

                                                              /to Valentina Petroj/ 
 

You are a symbolist with a sign

mystifying operas and operettas

sometimes also arias of unintelligible letters

you spit on the wall

symbol of the symbolist

allegorical metaphors and metamorphoses from earthworms

(sometimes leeches)

into something that can be called a butterfly

while you mention nobleman

rough skin

in some past darkness

from which it sizzles into mothballs

and spasms like empty intestines

without a nourishing philosophy to eat

and where will all this lead me?

that swaying in the wind

on the waves of virtual closeness

summons angels and deities

and sometimes supreme

under the slogan

deity not found - error

to clarify and explain

that supreme taste of astringency

that enters and circulates

it breathes behind the neck or under the marrow

bone masses when they harmonize

in a futuristic rhythm

which is too often like used toilet paper

it was thrown down the trough

water with excreta was withdrawn

and is there still a clean one?

symbolist in a foreign language you exist

in constructions that are difficult to understand can

while, it seems to me, you are trying

let me down the water too

paired with a new point

dark hair and slim body

I don't know if I want to

would this gray mass want

to connect through the server

with a new body

new unique bone marrow masses

who is faster? or who can last longer?

the question was asked but unnecessary

maybe it's a symbol or maybe it's not

another battle is being fought

and the flag with the meaning is not flying yet

symbol is required

somewhere underground without land

``prostitution and lies'' -

fate springs from the deck

if it is true or is it hiding somewhere else

like an unwritten rule

which has not even started to be valid

by the eruption of the beginning and the end

the meaning of the symbol is dear.

 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

  

("strong and brave" - comment Valentina Petroj)

September 11th 2012





Conquering freedom

 

I wrote to Assange, but no, I didn’t post it out loud

No announcements

Freedom is raped

And I didn’t get the likes

Because, to say openly that you disagree

                             with public lynching

                             under the pretext

                                         of fighting for human rights

You’ll get epithets like “unsung cattle”

                                         (literal translation from Serbian)

Or an invitation addressed to you,

                             to the gallows, that “misogynous male pig”

 

Hashtag stayed hidden from the public

I wrote a letter to a person in the cell:

Person number A9379AY –

That’s man’s number!

The number of body and mind

The number of soul

It is the number of imprisoned wings

                             in an attempt to fly

 

No, I didn’t announce it out loud

Auschwitz-democracy is very alive

I’ve sent registered letter of support:

                      Always for wings!

                      Always for freedom!

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

1.28 pm – 1.37 pm

31st December 2021

Friday

(North-West London)






Migrant worker in his everyday

 

I got up and fell asleep again

morning spider was already in its hiding place

terrible migraine attack from the right

nausea, pink and baby-blue stripes on the left

a mission paper for reducing suicide rate in men

                                                                    of under 45

some sort of turquoise shade with capital letters –

                                                          TOTAL LEGEND

                            with some golden surrounding shade

the loss of every life is the passing of another me

flowing through my veins

reaching the tips

youth is slipping away into so-called wages

when actually it is not enough for a landlord

his book-keeper named Joy

sending harassing messages

Joy – very amusing name for someone who's working

with money

sucking every penny from universal credit receiver

nearly eviction –  she said last month

while I already don't have enough food in the fridge

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

 

ended around 10.50 am

2nd October 2021

Saturday













Monday 2 October 2023

Edicija nova poezija:

Priča o djevojci koju su usput napustile sve prijateljice i prijatelji

 

Szeretem a madarakat.

Šušti lišće.

Šapat mogućih drama.

Eho raste.

Kao šampon za odrasle sa ukusom banane.

Niko nije čuo Zvezdanu kako izgovara “budi dobro”.

Uvjeravam sebe jer znam da ona i dalje postoji u dubini

                                    svojih nebo-plavih očiju.

Odatle izlaze rečenice.

Svi nedorečeni razgovori postaju dorečeni.

Ja je čujem.

Vidim je.

I svi neboderi i sve sivo i crno iz prošlih septičkih jama.

Vidim djevojčicu, vidim djevojku koju poznajem odavno.

Vidim djetinjstvo.

Neukrotivi dah mogućnosti.

Grizem usne.

Nema nikakvih granica.

Kao jutarnja magla ispod sivih londonskih oblaka.

I ta djevojčica/djevojka koja i dalje živi u dubini punog mjeseca.

U otvorenoj šutnji pokretanja vratova živih koji je poznaju;

koji se udaljavaju, vezujući svoja tijela celuloidnom vrpcom ‘drugarstva’.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

17.55 h – 18.10h

01. 10. 2023.

nedjelja

/Stockley Golf-Court/
(mojoj sestri Zvezdani)