On the Way to Japan

The muscles were tense to extremes but I never thought of giving up.
With the strength of an animal, so typical of a desperado, I clutched the
railing although I was not convinced that the Lord was with me. Drops of
sweat were falling down my forehead, stinging my wide open eyes, and the
vein on my neck, puffed up like a pipe, was pumping blood into my head. A
transparent haze was spreading treacherously, and micro stars were twinkling
in a cluster, whistling monotonously.


          Everything was in colour.

        Terrified, I realized that that my fingers were wet and that the railing was sliding from my helpless hands. I tried something but without success. The train went on quickly down the track while I was lying in the mud, defeated.

          He was on it.



GORD–A–DAN

THE ROOTS ARE CLAIRVOYANT, GRASPING UNTOUCHABLE WISDOM. THAT IS THE WAY IT STARTS, THE SIGN OF TIMES IS DECEIVING. IT IS THE TIME TO SEE THE DROWNED. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE READING? YOU ARE BRINGING AS SMALL AMOUNTS AS YOU LIKE TO. YOUR IMAGE IS STILL GROWING AND CRYING. COMING CLOSER AND GOING AWAY, STRONG WEAKNESS. THE WORLD THAT IS SPREADING BUT DOES NOT BELONG TO ANYONE, GIVE SOMETHING FROM YOURSELF THAT COULD BRING SENSE FROM THE THREAD OF WILL. TRY LOOKING WITH DIFFERENT EYES TO THE LIGHT. EVIL IS DANGEROUS, CONTAGEOUS ILLNESS, MOVE OUT OF THAT EVIL, IT MAKES THE CENTURY LONGER."GORD–A–DAN" THE TEAR RIVERS ARE NOW MURMURING, THE DOG IS WAILING, YOU ARE GONE. BREAK LOOSE I BEG YOU! AND SLENTLY, THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR, COME TO ATTEND THE FEAST OF PRESERVED EMOTIONS, DAYDREAMS, THE HAPPY MOMENTS! DECENT GIFT, HUNGRY CRAVING IN THE BUNK OF FEATHERS, SILK AS PURE AS THE SNOW, WITH THE FORCE OF SILENCE. FLOWERS OF DANDELLIONS LET'S DANCE FROM AFAR WITH OUR LOOKS, WITH OUR BODIES, LET'S TOUCH WITH PALMS ONLY.



Something Mine

Tell me how to keep what we have pure
Because, you know, I forgot to tell you,
I destroy whatever I touch,

And I have to tell you,
I like the way you look at me secretly
Thinking that I don't see it
I love to hear you talking
Even to somebody else,
Too loud so that I can hear you even if I'm not around
And when I have gone, probably without any need, to fix my make–up for a hundredth time,
Because I know your eyes will follow me,
And I have to tell you,
My knees won't listen to me when you're near me,
And I'm really afraid of spoiling this so pure and innocent,
Because you know, I have to tell you,
I destroy whatever I touch,
And that is why I'm begging you,
Tell me how to save us
And how to prevent myself from telling you,
While you're looking at and talking to me,
"Hold me and kiss me"
Fearing that I will ruin everything.

Ekleksographia:
Wave Two

March, 2010

Poetry

Tatjana Debeljački

Tatjana Debeljački

Tatjana Debeljački, born on 23.04.1967 in Užice. Member of Association of Writers of Serbia UKS since 2004 and Haiku Society of Serbia HDS Montenegro–HUSCG&HDPR, Croatia. Has published several collections of poetry – A House Made of Glass, published by ART–Užice; Yours, published by Nardona Knjiga, Belgrade; and Vulcano, by Haiku Lotos, Valjevo – as well as the CD–book A House Made of Glass, by ART (Užice). Her AH-EH-EEH-OH-OOH was published by Poeta Belgrade, 2008.