Svijet Ne Razumije

The World Does Not Understand

Bio je to čudan san, još jedan u nizu iznenadnih snova koji su se nizali jedni za drugim u obliku slike koja kao da još nije bila potpuno iscrtana. No njezino lice, njezino vrelo tijelo i milozvućan, visoko senzualan glas bili su zauvijek zabijeni u najtamnije kutove njegove davno ugašene podsvijesti.

“Dovraga, tko je ona, tko je ta žena…” promumljao je ispijajući svoju ritualnu ranojutarnju kavu zajedno sa ćašicom profinjene, bistre žestine.

Ta žena dolazila je u najugodnije vrijeme i u najgore moguće vrijeme, šetajući njegovim mozgom kao da ga ne samo poznaje već da je taj mozak dio nje, njezinog proširenog bića.

U mislima već su odavno bili jedno, spojeni bez dosadnih telefonskih razgovora, ujedinjeni bez ispuštene nagle, valorizirane riječi, bili su napisana skoro gotova knjiga kojoj su samo nedostajale impresivne korice pa da krene u susret svojoj magičnoj potrazi i opjevanom, mitskom samootkrivenju.

Noćna svjetla grada stoički su žmirila dok su noćne ptice plele svoj vlastiti ritam stvarajući paralelni grad, usađenu civilizaciju koja je divlje bujala u dvije nikad prije spomenute realnosti.

“Skoro kao mi…” rekao je zamišljeno gledajući u daljinu mračnog, pitoreskno iskovanog horizonta.

“Skoro kao mi”, odgovorila je ona duboko u tinjajućim režnjevima njegovog oslobođenog uma. Tamo gdje je mozak neiskvareno lagan, a neukradena misao lebdi sama zaglavljena sa sobom, bar bi trebala biti, ali više nije. Sada još jedan glas šeće tim naoštrenim umom i priznaje sve svoje nagomilane boli, otkriva sve svoje tužne rane. Priča seizmičke istine koje ne bi smjele biti tako provokativno, tako neosporno naglas rečene, već zakamuflirano potajno, sporo i ležerno bez osiromašenih trivijalnih sukoba koji plamte van te ujedinjene mislilačke fronte.

“Svijet ne razumije…” prozborio je sa jezivom točnošću.

“Svijet nikad neće razumjeti…” rekao je ugodan ženski glas, koji je zvučao kao da dolazi preko telefona smiještenog tisuću milja daleko od njegovog zahuktalog srca.

Više se ne pitam jesi li ti stvarna, ti što ležiš duboko u svakoj mojoj iznjedrenoj riječi, već se pitam jesam li ja stvaran… Tko je produkt čijeg neumornog uma… tko koga drži zarobljenog i živog u ovoj dirljivoj, enigmatskoj ljubavnoj ekstazi.

Ako ti dam srce, ako ti prodam cijeli svoj um, gdje sam onda ja, jesam li ikad bio ili sam samo vozilo koje tako dobro, prepažljivo koristiš da ovom crnilu vani, ovom diletantskom svijetu pokažeš srednji prst. Da ga podigneš visoko, da ga svi vide u svoj svojoj namagnetiziranoj, šarolikoj ljepoti.

Ne, ti nisi samo jedan u nizu, ti si početak i kraj niza, ti si savršeni niz u neumornom nizu, najglasniji korak u svakom mogućem koraku, voljeni glas između svakog nevoljenog slova te prvo smisaono slovo izrečeno prije rođenja ovog zaboravnog svijeta.

Svijeta koji te je nasilno, brutalno ukrao od mene, zato me tako duboko osjećaš, tako duboko tražiš i tako slobodno… želiš.

Stvarna sam kao i one noćne ptice koje svaku noć u isto vrijeme tako čežnutljivo promatraš, gledaš kako se vjerno brinu o svom toplom gnijezdu, kako hrane jedno drugo i kada pada najžešća kiša i kad bespoštedno voli najokrutniji bijeli snijeg.

Znam da postojiš, samo te još ne mogu dotaknuti, imam te cijelu, a u isti čas bježiš potpuno gola kroz moja najčuvanija vrata, zatvaraš sve moje najčuvanije prozore, a tutnjiš samozatajno i tako nostalgično bezobrazno u mojim venama.

Vrijeme koje tražiš u svakoj besanoj noći donijet će i mene, i ja ću biti ona kakvom me vidiš duboko u svojim mislima, gola živa vatra i najbolje isklesano gnijezdo gdje samo najodaniji cvrkut slobodno živi i ne gleda usamljeno sam u mrak bez lojalnog pozdrava, bez ijedne riječi vrijedne ljubavi.

Volim te…

Svijet, svijet ne razumije.

Znam.

The World Does Not Understand

It was a strange dream, another in a series of sudden dreams that followed one after another in the form of an image that seemed not yet completely drawn. Yet her face, her burning body and a melodious, highly sensual voice were forever driven into the darkest corners of his long-extinguished subconscious.

“Damn it, who is she, who is that woman…” he muttered while drinking his ritual early-morning coffee together with a small glass of refined, clear liquor.

That woman came in the most pleasant time and in the worst possible time, walking through his brain as if she not only knew it but as if that brain was a part of her, a part of her extended being.

In thoughts they had long already been one, joined without tedious phone conversations, united without a released sudden, valorized word; they were an almost written, nearly finished book that only lacked impressive covers so it could set out toward its magical quest and its sung-about, mythical self-discovery.

The night lights of the city stoically blinked while the night birds wove their own rhythm, creating a parallel city, an implanted civilization that wildly flourished in two never-before-mentioned realities.

“Almost like us…” he said thoughtfully while looking into the distance of the dark, picturesquely forged horizon.

“Almost like us,” she answered deep inside the glowing lobes of his liberated mind. There where the brain is innocently light and an un-stolen thought floats alone, stuck with itself — at least it should be, but it is no longer. Now another voice walks through that sharpened mind and admits all its accumulated pains, reveals all its sorrowful wounds. It tells seismic truths that should not be spoken so provocatively, so undeniably aloud, but rather camouflaged secretly, slowly and casually without the impoverished trivial conflicts that flare outside that united thinking front.

“The world does not understand…” he spoke with chilling precision.

“The world will never understand…” said a pleasant female voice that sounded as if it came through a telephone placed a thousand miles away from his overheated heart.

I no longer ask whether you are real, you who lie deep in every word I have given birth to, but I ask whether I am real… Who is the product of whose tireless mind… who keeps whom imprisoned and alive in this touching, enigmatic love ecstasy.

If I give you my heart, if I sell you my entire mind, where am I then, have I ever been, or am I only a vehicle that you use so well, so carefully, to show the middle finger to this darkness outside, to this dilettante world. To raise it high so everyone can see it in all its magnetized, colorful beauty.

No, you are not just one in a sequence, you are the beginning and the end of the sequence, you are the perfect sequence within the tireless sequence, the loudest step in every possible step, the beloved voice between every unloved letter and the first meaningful letter spoken before the birth of this forgetful world.

A world that violently, brutally stole you from me, that is why you feel me so deeply, search so deeply and so freely… desire.

I am real like those night birds that every night at the same time you watch so longingly, watching how they faithfully take care of their warm nest, how they feed one another when the fiercest rain falls and when the cruelest white snow loves mercilessly.

I know you exist, I just cannot touch you yet, I have you entirely and at the same time you run completely naked through my most guarded doors, you close all my most guarded windows and yet you thunder quietly and so nostalgically shamelessly through my veins.

The time you seek in every sleepless night will bring me as well, and I will be the one as you see me deep within your thoughts, naked living fire and the best carved nest where only the most loyal chirping lives freely and does not stare alone into the darkness without a loyal greeting, without a single word worthy of love.

I love you…

The world, the world does not understand.

I know.

Fall From The Stars

All angels just fall from the stars
bitter sweet memory of love
please, show me your best haunting scar

In the cold burning fire, imaginations
 build out of too many wars

Child of perfect love
Lightning from the beloved stars
precious child hidden behind the meaning of Mars

lets kill this gloating farce
lets take away this hollow romance
can you change yourselves?

lets save some warm, forever flying bells
do tell, do tell, how deep is the roaring well

Who is now the prince of Hell?
oh captain, o my captain — sail well, sail well
dont you hear, now is time when brightest rebels yell

welcome to cold blazing shell
welcome to the outskirts of living spell

At the gates without proper name
 one is written without insolent shame
 one is cast out without heaviest blame

All angels just fall from the cascading stars
bitter sweet memory of love — give me your best unwanted bars
please, show me your best uncovered scars

In the hungry fire build out of too many soulless wars
Child of perfect love
Lightning from whitest stars

Tell me which fist strikes from above
precious child hidden behind the meaning of just Mars

lets kill this gloating farce
lets take away this hollow romance
can you change yourselves?

lets save some stiff, culminating bells
do tell, do tell, can you articulate
the right side of your brazen cell

Who is now the rightful prince of Hell?
oh captain, o my captain — sail well, sail well, never tell
dont you hear, now is time when brightest rebels yell

welcome to cold burning damned shell
welcome to the living spell

I know his name too well
I am too child of perfect Hell
I am too monster who lives outside his unnamed shell

I can ring all the right bells,
call upon all ashes of diabolical heretics wells

I am fire, I am ice, breathing monstrosity
 below and before every church bells
do tell, do tell, can you articulate, awaken the right blooming cell

welcome to cold burning damned shell
welcome to the living spell

I know his name too damn well
I am too child of perfect Hell
I am too monster who lives outside his unnamed deep well

I can ring all the right bells
lets not pretend
lets not pretend

I am the hallowed present, destroyer with the proper stairwell,
darkest star brimming with unesiable love…
miracle of life God sent

I am monster who lives outside his unnamed shell
I am too, I am tooo
Child of perfect Hell

welcome to the living spell
go to your own, personal beggars made hell!!!
farewell, farewell, farewell!!!