:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

the handles pull the suitcases into the eyelids

I don't know if I'll last

life breaks down as we drive small electric cars

in the amusement park that once existed, we drive with our feet instead of wheels

the steps turn on that board

parting is a word like an apple

the bodies move, my friend and I

children who are not sure they want to live

 

___________________

 

completed at 3 and 28 p.m.

12/30/2021

Thursday

Silence walks if possible

 

Occasionally she would stare openly at me, without restraint and forced decency. Then I would ask her what she was thinking. Nothing - she would answer. The tone was flat. Her gaze would always be blank. She seemed to be looking at a certain point. Then I would stare at her pupils. Those few minutes lasted a long time. I would feel pain in my brain. Unspecified place. Uncombed hair would fall over her cheeks. Thin. Worn out. Seemingly an answer with no real connection to the question. 'Nothing'. I would give up the conversation even before the conversation started. I would make coffee in a little black machine that sometimes turns itself on. I would go to the window. I would try to see what it was in the distance, even though I basically knew. Above the roofs in the distance, a green straight line. Actually, behind, but it's not that important now. Field. Green field. Weed field. Garbage field. And the hospital. A gray tall building that rises like a wall to my left. I remembered the poetry of Anne Sexton. The sun was shining. And yet, everything was as gray and heavy as the hospital walls. Nothing, I thought. I went back to the other room to see what she was doing. She sat on the couch, looking at the same green line in the distance.

- What are you thinking about?

- About nothing. So....

The pain in my brain grew more and more. That knocking iron wrist. One o'clock will be soon. Lunch needs to be set.

- Come we'll eat together. There are potatoes and fish.

- I'm not hungry yet.

She would continue to stare into an indefinite spot on the line of demarcation of the red roofs of ground-floor houses and weed fields that belongs to no one. The sun is moving low. Clouds follows fast. I would eat, as usual, alone.

 

 

23.34h

03/12/2021

Friday

/West London/

Christmas poem

PopWash

The headache passed on the horizon of the supervisor’s message

Concerns that I may not be on the same position

Breathing hard, the body stood up

Wears bicycle leggings

A huge curve of saliva accumulated on the tongue

Legs with feet in socks and toes went into the shoes

Water flows down my back

After talking in the office and washing in the small kitchen dishwashing room

A gift followed:

- We want you in the team in the new year as well.

He said.

After the shift was over, I rolled on wheels

Turning the pedals to West London

I had something beautiful to hope for.

_______________________________________

20.43 h - 20.54 h

24/12/21

Friday

(Christmas Eve)

New poem in English

 A plan for each thought

There are no dandelions in the field

Even this mild winter has killed half life

A new lockdown is in preparation

Supposedly some danger of clean air

In a large photo in a frame

I hold the chamomile stalks with my toes

I laugh innocently

Not knowing what would follow in the years to come

At the door of a new entrance I think of all these false friendships

I don’t know why, but most are female

They appear as friendly faces, and then disappear without a trace

They change from closeness and openness to those that gnaw bones and bone marrow

In those moments, I think, it's better to do nothing

My final decision, forever, no matter how categorical it may sound.

____________________________________________

10.41 am

December 23, 2021

Thursday

(West London)

The mechanics of the world

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I'm listening to the song White Dress by Lana del Rey

thinking about now probably past dishwasher position

about draining into the sewer

on wiping and disinfecting all possible surfaces

I'm thinking about working during Christmas night

Lana mentions The White Stripes

I think it's over with wearing a striped apron

and safety shoes with leftover food

I feel broken

Herta was fired because she refused to cooperate

she got a job in a factory

she emigrated in 1987 to Germany

I emigrated in 2020 to Britain

I don't seem to understand the mechanics of the world

_________________________________________

finished at 23.13 h

12/22/2021

Wednesday

(West London)

the dumpling in my throat

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

again some drill

breaks through thin walls at seven and seven in the evening

vomit stands (still)

the dumpling in my throat

a woman who did not deign to learn English

talk through one's hat something in Russian - a desperate housewife

she spends all her time at home

and her husband asks me how I can eat when I’m in bed all day

as if only those who move their heads, arms and legs, or / and standing upright eat

swallowed bubbles of mineral water coming down

pushing the dumpling

the drill temporarily stopped breaking through the walls

temporarily, omicron isolation was delayed

to some repeated necrosis of renewed preposterous lockdown

___________________________________

07.07 pm - 07.22 pm

20/12/2021

Monday

(West London, in the room)

dishwasher diary

dreadful woman

 

eight black trolleys of dirty dishes

I ride on jets of black water

leftovers from breakfast and lunch are washed away

like vomit

they stand squeezed above the drain

in a purple or glowing green strainer

 

burned-out – that's how I feel

while she cuts the onion heads separately

one by one

carrots or eggplants

or red and green cabbage

burying me in the fat of toasted sausages

 

the migraine grows and strikes like a hammer

from left to right

forward  - backward

vomit erupts to the surface

body nailed to the bed

 

____________________

 

written around 18.05 h

19/12/2021

Sunday

(Paralysed in bed; West London)

Hazardous material

Virus type alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon

perhaps theta vaccine doses first, second, third, tenth

locked, socially distanced

pushed into the dead man's sweat from the next room

people do not wash their hands after a small urination

have full trash cans:

forced masks in the service of toiling for misery

blackmailed for injecting pharmacoconcentrates in the service of profit –

trying not to scream

wake me when it’s over

it’s killing you for sure

wake me when it’s over

I have a spider in the corner of the window

he greets me

we look at each other

above worlds and buds

above the room leaves

"you have to wear a face covering

over the nose and mouth of all times,

unless you are exempt " –

those deep pockets

which put you like a screw in machinery

money production

they say healthy – you will die if you inhale the freshness of the air

unless you are exempt

they say oppress yourself – pay your own captivity for 14 days

unless you are exempt

they say punish yourself, exploit yourself

unless you are exempt –

trying to exist

it hasn’t killed you, yet

it’s eating you like cancer

it’s killing you for sure

On wheels the muscles twitch on the floor

an hour in the morning

joint pain:

but they cannot kill my spirit

but you cannot take my spirit –

watch the rain drop

entrapped inside a dream

wake me when it’s over.

________________________

11.20 pm completed & 07.10 am edited

11/17/2021 & 11/18/2021

Wednesday - Thursday

(West London)

[Italic – The Cranberries “Wake Me When It’s Over”]

zimska razmišljanja

 

Jednom je bio ovde, slučajno sam ga sreo na ulici

 

na minus deset u postavljenoj teksas jakni išao sam u školu

crtao sam dok je on govorio da sam glup

hteo sam mnogo puta da pitam zašto me je napravio

kada me muči

zašto nisam rođen kao abortus

godine pune ničega

ispranih snova o boljem životu i budućnosti

zgrčenih prstiju umrtvljenih paracetamolom

da manje boli otok zglobova

kapci stisnuti zolpidemom

da uhvate bar pet sati kontinuiranog sna

u slobodno vreme između prljavih posuda za jelo

bilo je jednom tirkizno korito umesto kade

bilo je jednom pola kifle sa pavlakom

kao doručak plus ručak

bilo je jednom telo od pedeset-šezdeset kilograma

sada se metabolizam usoporio bilo je sedamdeset

moj deo od rama i izrezan broj

odjednom čovek u telu čovekinje

me pita ispred veš-mašine

da li sam primio vakcinu

- izuzet sam, odgovorio sam

 

izvesno je, do ovog časa, najdublja tuga

prožima organizam

umetničkih obrta i autentičnih nota –

adresa nepoznata

preselio se u neki drugi grad

 

_______________________________

 

22.11h – 22.27h

24.10.2021.

nedelja

U susret rodnom gradu

 

O staklu, o ogradi, o zidovima

 

Vozim bicikl od davnina kući

gazim suve leševe mrtvih stonoga

na plavim izrezima tepiha

ispred wc-a:

ne zaboraviti povući vodu

obrisati prašinu

odbaciti ničim izazvane nesporazume

o tobožnjim vlasništvom nad rečima i jezikom

oranžada i cut-up prelazi u black-out –

crno pred očima

 

Ne, ti nisi ta osoba

iako sam imao drugačiji utisak pre odrastanja

talasi koji se miču stoje oko metle

njima bi trebalo brnjicu na njušku

Vindišova žena odnosi metlu u šupu

„Bila je poštarka“, kaže.

„Podrigivala je i smrdela.......“

na nivo obdaništa moždane razvijenosti

u kupatilu idem za šinama

sa šlemom

ograda se završava dok prilazim

iz slivnika ka lavabou sredstvima za dezinfekciju.

 

_______________________________________

 

11.26h – 11.34h

četvrtak

03.06.2021.

(West London; Svetski dan bicikala & biciklista)

[tokom priprema za posetu Szabadki]

[kurziv – Herta Müller]

poezija četvrtkom

Tajmizam

U trenutku migrena je moja jedina obaveza

da za tačno četiri sata popijem drugu dozu,

oporavim se do subote

i navedem svoje potpuno gađenje javnim silovanjima.

Govoriti dok aura traje, izuzetno je teško; ali ne menja

zasidenost erupcijama histerije.

Na Islandu nema toliko vulkana,

a postoji cenovnik večitih tema i vreme kojim se one pladaju;

sa sobom , takođe, donose simptome šizofrenije

sa primesama paranoje;

Distancirajmo se! Dva metra razmaka, plus maska, plus

dezinfekcija koja ubija 100 posto – to je komunikacija sadašnjice.

U suprotnom, još neko silovanje može ustati,

možda iz Tutankamonove grobnice; samo odbrojava minute,

godine, decenije.....

__________________________________

11.24 pm – 11.31 pm

08.04.2021.

četvrtak

(soba u VI zoni Londona)

svetski dan poezije

 

vreme u jednoj sobi nisam upoznao u potpunosti

 

odmotavaju se široke rolne plavog papira za brisanje ruku

ili možda daske za sedenje u malim izolovanim sobama

                      ne lepe se kao posteri, a postoje i bele varijante

                       *bićemo živi bar još 3 dana* – pročitao sam u nedelju prepodne

                                                          na stranici broj 29

                  vreme u jednoj sobi nisam upoznao u potpunosti

                                                                                      cvetaju krokusi i žuti narcisi

                                                                      tumaram močvarom terena za golf

                                           stiče se utisak da se stvari događaju veoma brzo

                               mikrotalasna zvoni za znak gotovosti

kada razbijem prozor u prizemlju, biće to u slučaju eventualnog požara

komadi hartije razbacani, spašeni, kao i olovke

glavnim saobraćajnicama u crnim, malim kesama ili belim

vozim ih do odredišta – moja soba

mogu za minut navesti svoju komplentu biografiju

                                                       ali ipak, ne činim to

tajmizam je nešto što mi nikada nije išlo od ruke

već uvek od mozga

zemlja~≈~~~~~~~~~~~~≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈zemlja

voda≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈~~~talasi~~~~~~~~~≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈kiša

vazduh~~~~~~~~~≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈~~~vetar

grupa AB~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~grupa A i B, ili AB

umetnost koja ne priznaje da služi sistemu

transparentnih banera

absolutely no touching policy! – politike političke korektnosti

kada osoba A ne zna da li je silovana

kada osoba B ne zna mojih šest minuta

da dođem sebi

i sve to može stati u svega nekoliko penija

provučenih kroz mašinu, skinutih sa plastike

označene račun-brojevima

______________________________

 

13.16 – 13.29h

21.03.2021.

nedelja

(Svetski dan poezije)

[kurziv, stih(ovi) Judite Šalgo kao spiritualna inspiracija]

in memoriam szabadka

 

vagoni su se nizali s torbom na ramenima

 

novi dispanzer za obitavanje niče.

krem žuta boja. nijansa kanalizacionog sadržaja.

virtualno, takozvani miris se ne oseti.

sravnjivanje korenja sa zemljom u najavi.

posmatram čamce i talase Grand Union kanala.

bez potrebe da promenim mesto ili položaj.

čekam da osetim zadovoljstvo postojanja.

sunce se promalja kroz zastore, mami da ih uvežem u dve viseće kićanke.

čistim tanjire za vodu biljaka što love insekte.

sada sam u sobi, sa planom da sednem na točkove.

da se otkotrljam.

novi dispanzer, u starom jezgru grada u kojem sam rođen živeo, nikao je.

zrači mimikrivnim bojama. to su one koje koriste na psihijatriji.

tamo gde se zidovi ljušte od vlage.

tamo gde demencija traži svoj krevet.

tamo gde toaleti nemaju vrata.

tamo gde ruke sa ostacima povraćene supe miluju teme.

tamo gde krevet ostaje na hodniku.

tamo gde niko ne dolazi.

tamo gde te samo gurnu.

tamo, tamo je ta nova bolnica.

da preobrazi rodno mesto u budući Bangladeš.

 

_______________________

13.54h – 14.00h

20.02.2021.

subota

(West Drayton)

[In Memoriam Szabadka]

Zimski DADA Cut-Up

 

šah – mat

 

mesto za pad

kratko

previše da se suprotstavi

crno i belo

varljive visine

gde će sleteti?

oblaci nisu marili

lica u kalup tela – sva ista

brojevi

ubrzanje

crno polje

beton

ako ništa –

smrt pod uslovima

u jednoličnoj masi

do jutra

u venama čovečanstva – kraj!

rukav radoznalog oka

imaće publiku.

________________________

 

1.27 h – 1.34h

15.01.2021.

petak

(West Drayton, Covid-19 izolacija)

[Cut-up pesme sa interneta]