A poem that should have been more

You raise your voice and you

Speak –

some clap.

You fear they’ll take over

As if a cloud

Could cover up the skies forever or

The rain

Could wash up the Kamešnica

Away from this land

That is yours and that is also

Theirs

For that is land for all,

For those who seek to live

Like animals instinctively do 

and just like we

also happen 

To do

Like a child

You run and hide under your bed,

Like a child running loose

Without the presence of a sensible soul

You get your hands on the first heavy and

sharp thing you find

And you aim 

At this imminent threat,

The made-up ghost

You raise your voice

And your cup

You drink as if there were no Tomorrows

No days to live as one

Like the humans we all happen to be

Like one

Full of flaws bust still perfect

For being

You kill

As if a heart were worth a sack of stones

‘For those, those I threaten

have killed my own!’

In the past

The remote past,

But the past, one may reason

Doesn’t run back

To the present

With foamy mouths and

Empty stomachs

To collect installments

On old dues

The past is not aware of

The pain or shame

One of your own

Has endured

So do not reenact the theatre

Of a war that is not yours to fight

Be it with kindness

Or awareness,

Learn to relearn.

Note that putting the gun down

Is all one will be remembered for

In the end

Put your gun down, boy

I want to feel the kindness

Dripping from the scent of the memory

I’ll take with me to my grave:

The picture of your deep, grayish and

piercing

Blue eyes

Being kind.

I want to cherish you

As much

As I cherish

The ones you have hated

For far too long now

And for no good reason

At all

Stavite svoje oružje dole.

It’s all you have to do,

Oružje na terenu.

~~~

Pristine and despair

On a day like this

Days like that make sense

In a moment of pristine

And a moment of despair

It’s true, dear, and so true

Those days now seem

Not fair

A reality I seldom embrace for I’ve

Just learned

The right side of my brain is

Twisted and torn

Never playing games, never

Combining strengths

While the rest of the world struggles

To find reasoning

In make-believe separation, could it be that

It’s our brain’s fault?

Yes and I

See,

The ocean won’t leave the shore but

Shores will no longer shore be when

Ocean swiftly covers it all or will it

Be

That fire will blanket with its

Reputable and wide hands the four corners of this

World of parsimony or

Will it be that men

Finally will

Covet everything there is, the skies, and milky ways

Oceans of unsinkable stars and black holes hanging sideways

Until all that could belong to a heavenly notion is nothing

But

Another one of men’s acquisitions

For the fighter in me wants to

Conquer the fighter in you and

Fighting eye for an eye is old

News

Fighting tooth for a gallon of milk, well

That’s more like it. ~

home is you

strange to think
that
what I know
to be true
so deeply
is what everyone
uses
against me

they point out
how crazy I am
or have become
with time
so far away
from all of that
which once meant
home

to me

but what i leave out
is that
home was never
what home meant
but the feeling
i pursue
that lives within
and can only be
wild and free
once I feel I'm away
from home

where another
type of home
breeds
more of the same
old thing
folks used to call
love

or
serenity

I call you

you are home
the whole of what
i've always known
and others
always seemed so eager
to shun away

as if what truly moves us
should be an item
to be locked away
where all things shame
likes to claim
as their pride and joy

not I

home
is
you and you
alone.

for bill

I know

There’s something inside of you

A little rock of knowledge

They never really cared to

Love

A brick of understanding

Too heavy

For anyone else to carry

Too bright to be

Just part

Of the foundations

Of any given monument

Unless you build

Your temple of importance

In a place where the soil glows

More than that of which

Shines bright

By the crowning of

A full day

In the end of the road

You travel

The bright glimpse of that

Star

That happens to be the center

Of everything

We know

What is it that turned into

The thing we care the most and

Can’t quite put a finger on?

The countless hours of traffic

Of frustrating work

We give away to

Those

Members of a society

So useless, and yet

They think they rule

The world,

Who don’t really

Bother

To mind our prickly presence

Here and there

And acknowledge our importance

Everywhere

I know

This life isn’t worth it

And you said it

But you said something else

Life is

All there is

For it’s one

After millions of them

Have allowed such clarity

In

An imagination

Playtime

Ground zero

For wonder

I get it

I really do

But all I really cared for

Was for you to know

I get it and that I

Really do

There’s nothing else

But a growing fear

In my heart

No one will ever

Feel you

Like I do

And to that I say

Yeah,

Oh no!

Someone turn this light

Low

I’m about

To take flight

And you know

How it goes

I can go high, but

I might end up going

Really,

Really low.

that day in june

~~ It was an atypically cold morning amidst spring but he didn’t mind the weather. His phone was off and as it was expected of him, the bed remained undone and untouched. An empty glass on his desk, lamp on, windows wide open.

On the predominantly bright and white screen, one single sentence written.

That was everything.

The gaunt look on his face, the dark circles around his eyes, the quiet despair.

With the presence of a night crawler, he walked to kitchen and meticulously searched for something of interesting value in his messy living environment. Deception was clear until the moment his dog discovered something stuck under the front door.

- A… letter? Really?

The crumpled pages were printed but there was a handwritten signature that caught his attention because of its similarity to his own. 

- Who did this? Ah. - He had a lucky guess.

As the sun pushed the night away, he sat and read what was carefully placed on those pages only for his eyes to read:

***

Hey there Mike, I hope this will find you at the right moment…

First and foremost I must apologize. I was way out of line in my last message. Part of me thought that question would sound ‘cute’ only to realize it was actually stupid shortly after I clicked on the ‘send’ button.

With that being said I must also let you know I’m writing this to tell you why I like you so much or in other words, why I think I like you so much and what liking you means to me, right now.

It’s entirely your choice to stop reading this letter at this instant if you don’t like to be thrown into the thoughts of somebody’s sweet/deranged little head in the middle of the night without any previous prep time…

Still here? You were warned.

My relationship status as we speak is ‘caught in somebody’s limbo where I’ve been fighting to get out alive without hurting the dreamer, not really knowing what the hell I’m searching for’, getting to the conclusion there’s ultimately nothing here for me to find, just to give: and I’ve given it all. I’m actually feeling like this is more like Blue Valentine and less Frankie and Johnny, nevertheless it is a situation I must deal with by myself, you have nothing to do with it, but

I kinda like you.

In fact, I like you quite a lot and this was the first time I felt like this since I fell for this guy I’m with. For a period I enjoyed being far, watching you work every now and then, thinking about what a great person you would be if I ever got to know you. I loved to do that.

Being away was right. I could think you were nice enough in my good days or hang on to the idea you were just an arrogant little asshole in my bad days, but it didn’t take long for you to talk.

It didn’t take long for me to notice my good days were always spot on and it definitely didn’t take me too long to be able to speak. That is a major issue in my book: a woman like myself should be silent for life or put away in a little village in the countryside of France (yes, France!) without internet connection so she’d never put herself in these stupid situations, ever again.

My point is I’m ashamed to like someone else but I’m not ashamed of liking that someone else. I’m ashamed I feel like a stupid platonic creepster when I know I’m nothing but a girl with lots of passion running through her veins and… I’m definitely ashamed of not being able to just take a deep breath and relax. No. I have to sit here and write this for you because, well, I like to make a brilliant fool of myself instead of simply moving on.

So, I’m sorry for my being me and I’m sorry I like you. You deserve someone less… well, like myself.

That was it and I guess I’m never seeing you again? :) …. :(

love, Rita. 

***

By the time he was done reading the letter the day was new; the sprinklers had all gone off, the dogs were out sniffing trouble.

A few people stepped out of their houses, cars drove slowly by and there was a refreshing smell of coffee being brewed coming from the house next door.

It always seemed right to start a new story by morning time. ~~

loyalty

- Camille sat quietly; the fine line between knowing anything with conviction and acting with logic while carrying no truthful certainty in her heart.... could she ever meet any realistic goals living like this? - 

~ I’m here, am I not?

Full bodied like a crisp wind

The restless words

Being spit

Down the funnel

Of your eager ear

Reaching the bottom of

An aching heart

Merciful, but

Silent

For the waiting has made

It hard

For feelings to be

Allowed in

I’m here, am I not?

All feelings

All flesh and red, hot blood

An ocean of vibrant pieces

Of this puzzle

You’ve been working on, but

Feeling blue

For the blue of your eyes

Speak in a tone of colors

I’ve never heard anywhere else, it

Speaks to me

Abruptly

In a harsh and fierce mood and

I respond to it, I’m here

Breathing the same air

You breath but

Unable to share

The same taste for longing

I thought you would

Die to kill

Well, I’m here,

Am I not?

My part of this deal written in stone

You have my number, my hands and shoulders

You have my full

Attention

And strong arms

You have my ears

To hear only your voice

And the sounds you’ve waited

To let someone hear,

One who might look or

Maybe even sound

A little bit

Like me, so

I’m here

You must be here too

All flesh, blood and saliva

The taste I knew

I would love to taste

The thick skin that allows

No one in but,

You’re here and yet

All is very dark my love, so

Come near

Fear fuels only the weak and

Weakness is not

What matches

Your mirthful skin

Best,

It suits only

Those who lack

The type of loyalty

Only our unrest

Knows

By heart. ~

....a late romantic.

Read this while you listen to this. If you dare.

˜˜

My heart was bleak. My weak thinking gave room to experience for the lack of a better idea. The very first time I set my feet on this very sidewalk, you said, I had tears in my eyes, you know? Just like those tears running down your cheeks right at this instant, those tears of joy.

Joy? I asked. I guess is all you answered.

That’s what you said, I guess.

As I glanced at what was happening right behind you I noticed the sound that was nearly dissipated by thick and heavy glass doors. The symphony blew the last chances I still had to pay attention to what you were now asking of me. Cry, you begged. Cry for releasing it all will set you free, but how could I? How could I do this just for you when…

Mahler was crying for me.

The world didn’t listen but I did, I followed it.

The sharp notes were but dubious in their courage so I carried on, going as far as pushing you, obstacle I adore to hate, out of the way. The door was almost shutting down completely but I managed to run fast enough so I could catch it open just before it was too late, such was my fear of not surrendering, such was my fear of neglecting this kind of happiness.

Just for a change.

A song, that was all that it really was, a moment inside of a song that spoke to me in tongues of strings, in the shapes of hearts I would never learn to admire nor loathe, a song nonetheless. So much can be built around a song.

The universe could be nothing but the product of a note that built time and matter, the perfect moment of romance that created you and me could have started with the beat of a steady drum coming from the reliable old stereo system down the basement, a grip of true inspiration can come from the very sound of winds blowing a symphony of leaves right outside your study’s window… oh, a song.

So much for a body of independent sounds, brought delicately together in the creation of a harmony I dare to call perfect.

It was nothing but a song and I loved it, for all that it was worth those were true twelve minutes and four seconds of complete surrender, and for those timeless minutes I learned to listen.

~~