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