Da Li Volite..

[halloween]

Dozvolite da ja platim...

 

Reče Solomon: Ugostite me jabukama jer sit sam ljubavi i nije mi lako,

A ja kažem: Do vrha mi nalijte pehar, jer sam sin bogataša koji tvrde  da su siromasi i ponašaju se tako.

 Još nisam video nekog malog Kreza, ni blizu,

Čiji novčanik ne bi imao paralizu;

Još nisam s nekim parajlijom proveo veče u blistavim njujorškim klancima

A da plaćanje ceha nije prepustio svojim siromašnim ali gordim znancima.

Što pre tim bolje za skromnu decu ako mi poklone malo vere

Kad im ukazujem na životnu istinu

da milijarderi troše novac samo na milijardere.

 

Bogati ljudi su oni prema kojima ste večito u nekoj obavezi i koje izvodite na večeru

i u pozorišta i u barove i svuda gde je skupo jer znate da su navikli samo na ono što je najbolje,

i posledica svega toga je ta da su vam sledećih mesec dana hleb i so jedina hrana;

A to je za vas bilo izvanredno veče dok je za njih bilo sasvim obično,

pa da vam se revanširaju uzgrednom napomenom da biste morali

svratiti kod njih na hladnu zakusku jednog dana.

Bogataši su, isto tako, oni što se neumorno žale na poreze

zbog kojih nemaju nikakvog užitka,

Ali se na kraju ispostavi da nikakav porez nisu platili još od 1929. jer im je tada

prihod spao na pedeset hiljada dolara godišnje

te im se porez

ne naplaćuje zbog pretrpljenog gubitka.

A vaš prihod i nije nikakav prihod, neto plata,

te čim prestanete da kulučite telesno ili duhovno i ona prestaje da stiže,

nego šta ste mislili, dragi moj gospodine,

Pa ipak plaćali ste porez redovno svake godine.

Te tako s porezom stvari stoje isto kao i sa večernjim izlascima

ter se u tom pogledu siromasi iz dana u dan pate

Da bi bogataške cehove mogli da plate.

Jer sušta je istina: čim ljudi imaju dovoljno akcija i obveznica

u sefu ili u nekom ćupu u podrumskoj tami,

Oni naravno, ništa više ne plaćaju sami.

Ne, oni komotno mogu da slažu paru na paru i zabavljaju se time

Dok ih drugi mole za dozvolu da njihove račune na sebe prime,

Što im se i dozvoljava dakako,

Jer su siromasi i suviše gordi da bi dopuštali slične usluge

a bogataši, što se toga tiče

nisu gordi baš tako jako.

 

I zato krenimo u protivnapad, hladnokrvan i tih:

Predložimo da se izglasa Dvadest drugi amandman Ustava

po kome bi bogataši morali da troše na nas

isto toliko novca koliko i mi na njih.

 

Ogden Neš

[namenski]

Captain MacWhirr had sailed over the surface of the oceans as some men go skimming over the years of existence to sink gently into a placid grave, ignorant of life to the last, without ever having been made to see all it may contain of perfidy, of violence, and of terror. There are on sea and land such men thus fortunate - or thus disdained by destiny or by the sea.

 

[pt 2.0]

Чистим

Чистим

Чистим

Бацим метлу

Па мислим.

 

Мислим

Мислим

Мислим

Узмем метлу

Па чистим.

 

- анонимна чистачица на неком песничком конкурсу пре више деценија...

[Sandens]

Jedni, s očima uprtim u prošlost 
Vide ono što ne vide; drugi, uperivši 
Iste oči u budućnost, vide 
Ono što se ne može videti.

 

Zašto postavljati tako daleko ono što je blizu – 
Pouzdanje naše? Ovo je dan, 
Ovo je sat, ovo je tren, to je to 
Što jesmo, a to je sve.

 

Večito protiče beskrajni sat 
Što nas proglašava za ništavne. U istom dahu 
I živimo i mremo. Uberi dan, 
Jer taj dan si ti.

 

- Fernando Pessoa

Edited March 15, 2017 by Sundance Kid

[Sandens]

Pa mogli smo

Što, rekoh
Mogli smo imati djecu, odgovoriš

 

Ma nisam ti ja baš za to,
Kakva bi to djeca bila
Prgava, svojeglava
umjesto mačke djecu bismo skidali s drveća
Ne bi ih primio nijedan vrtić
Kada bi došlo vrijeme za školu
Najstariji bi naučio cijelo gradivo ovog mlađeg
Mali bi se dosađivao u školi i radio nerede
A ja bih morala prekidati posao i ići kod ravnatelja

 

Odmahuješ glavom i govoriš 
Ako bi ličila na tebe
Onda bi mi svaki dan trčala u zagrljaj
Volio bih onu najmanju kovrčavu
Kao što sam zavolio tebe čim sam te vidio
I prestajao bih posao samo da je vidim

 

Pomislim kako su takvi
zanesenjaci kao ti nezreli,
pa tko vas je pustio iz kuće takve
neumivene ozbiljnošću današnjeg svijeta
Tko još ima vremena za ljubav
Treba raditi i zarađivati novce
Ako zaradiš novac bit ćeš sretan
Ako ne postaneš sretan
Trebaš zaraditi još novca

 

U trenutku nepažnje
Sve bude važnije od toga
da smo mogli imati obitelj
Nakon par godina samoće
Kroz glavu mi prođe
Kako mi možda nešto fali

 

Ponekad se sjetim tebe
Sada tvoja djeca nisu moja
Iako ona mala liči na mene
Možda si ju tako odgojio
Bolje ju odgoji da liči na tebe
Jer ovakvi kao ja
na kraju nemaju ništa
A mogli smo imati djecu

 

 

- Romana Perković

Edited April 9, 2017 by Sundance Kid

[Simon]

THE ART OF HELPING

 

If One Is Truly to Succeed in Leading a Person to a Specific Place,

One Must First and Foremost Take Care to Find Him Where Hi is and Begin There.

This is the secret in the entire art of helping.

Anyone who cannot do this is himself under a delusion if he thinks he is able to help someone else,

I must understand more than he-but certainly first and foremost understand what he understands.

If I do not do that, they my great understanding does not help him at all.

If I nevertheless want to assert my greater understanding, then it is because I am vain or proud, then basically instead of benefiting him I really want to be admired by him.

But all true helping begins with a humbling.

The helper must first humble himself under the person he wants to help and thereby understand that to help is not to dominate but to serve, that to help is a not to be the most dominating but the most patient, that to help is a willingness for the time being to put up with being in the wrong and not understanding what the other understands.

 

Søren Kierkegaard

(1813-1855)

[Sandens]

Gde si mi sad narandzo leta u sumi na granchicama? (Jao boli) I ja te prenesem i nastavljamo u travi! Baka tvoja! Princeza bela! U kuci beloj zaprsku mesa i razmislja brizno:

BOZE CIME LI SE TAJ BAVI? SELJAK NIJE...ODELO MU JE NOVO... A NI GOSPODIN NIJE...POKRETI SU MU NEKAKO... GRUBI... TJA... MORA DA JE NEKI DJAVO CIM GA MOJA LUTKICA... Bako,bela fantasticna,najlepsa bako! Tvoja lutkica bela ima plikove na kozi! Pssst...o mladezima ni reci-nije to za baku- vise bi zanimalo dedu! Deda neobrijan cvornovat sed: U ALBANIJI DEVESTO PETNAESTE JELI SMO LED PA TE TRKE KAD PRVI PUT VIDESMO GRKE! FIJUCE METAK KROZ BEZNADJe BELO- DA NE BI PROPAO METAK VOJNIK PODMETNE CELO. A JEDAN IZ NASE CETE CVETOZAR RODJEN U BANATU PODMETNU TRBU POD GRANATU...

Dosta deda!Znas baki se gadi... znamo, znamo i to da si pjeo generala da ne bi umro od gladi... Znamo dodjavola sve o ratu sve o lesevima sve o stravi!- pricaj ti nama dedice, pricaj ti nama, pricaj ti nama o... ljubavi!

Na vreme nismo obratili paznju. Pocinje kisa. Kisa,sta to bese kisa? Ti se oblacis cesljas skidas mi travke s ledja uvuci kosulju kazes poznaje li mi se pitas, -oh!- strasno nevreme preti, zemlja od neba bezi!- zao mi je sto nisam pesnik pa da svaki tvoj pokret i svaku rec i sve detalje u vecnost ubelezim!

Sad kao mala deca trcimo prema domu jer ko zna sta moze pasti na pamet nekom gromu. Pred samom kapijom tebi je misao pukla: JAO... JA SAM ZABORAVILA... NISAM OBUKLA...

E pa ako i nisi sta ja tu mogu! Neka to bude od nas dvoje poklon velikom bogu!

Uletesmo u bakin dvorac kao cvetovi kao komete bas kad je bakica pomislila GDE LI MI TAJ PO OVOM NEVREMENU ODVEDE DETE?

I drzeci se za ruke i trceci kroz kisu putnici zvezdanog puta doziveli smo citav zivot za tih nekoliko minuta.

[beyoncé]

Listen, I have been educated.

I have learned about Western

Civilization. Do you know

what the message of Western

Civilization is? I am alone.

 

eileen myles, ženski ginsberg i moderni walt whitman

 

 

 

nešto kao manifest:

 

An American Poem

 

I was born in Boston in

1949. I never wanted

this fact to be known, in

fact I’ve spent the better

half of my adult life

trying to sweep my early

years under the carpet

and have a life that

was clearly just mine

and independent of

the historic fate of

my family. Can you

imagine what it was

like to be one of them,

to be built like them,

to talk like them

to have the benefits

of being born into such

a wealthy and powerful

American family. I went

to the best schools,

had all kinds of tutors

and trainers, traveled

widely, met the famous,

the controversial, and

the not-so-admirable

and I knew from

a very early age that

if there were ever any

possibility of escaping

the collective fate of this famous

Boston family I would

take that route and

I have. I hopped

on an Amtrak to New

York in the early

‘70s and I guess

you could say

my hidden years

began. I thought

Well I’ll be a poet.

What could be more

foolish and obscure.

I became a lesbian.

Every woman in my

family looks like

a dyke but it’s really

stepping off the flag

when you become one.

While holding this ignominious

pose I have seen and

I have learned and

I am beginning to think

there is no escaping

history. A woman I

am currently having

an affair with said

you know  you look

like a Kennedy. I felt

the blood rising in my

cheeks. People have

always laughed at

my Boston accent

confusing “large” for

“lodge,” “party”

for “potty.” But

when this unsuspecting

woman invoked for

the first time my

family name

I knew the jig

was up. Yes, I am,

I am a Kennedy.

My attempts to remain

obscure have not served

me well. Starting as

a humble poet I

quickly climbed to the

top of my profession

assuming a position of

leadership and honor.

It is right that a

woman should call

me out now. Yes,

I am a Kennedy.

And I await

your orders.

You are the New Americans.

The homeless are wandering

the streets of our nation’s

greatest city. Homeless

men with AIDS are among

them. Is that right?

That there are no homes

for the homeless, that

there is no free medical

help for these men. And women.

That they get the message

—as they are dying—

that this is not their home?

And how are your

teeth today? Can

you afford to fix them?

How high is your rent?

If art is the highest

and most honest form

of communication of

our times and the young

artist is no longer able

to move here to speak

to her time…Yes, I could,

but that was 15 years ago

and remember—as I must

I am a Kennedy.

Shouldn’t we all be Kennedys?

This nation’s greatest city

is home of the business-

man and home of the

rich artist. People with

beautiful teeth who are not

on the streets. What shall

we do about this dilemma?

Listen, I have been educated.

I have learned about Western

Civilization. Do you know

what the message of Western

Civilization is? I am alone.

Am I alone tonight?

I don’t think so. Am I

the only one with bleeding gums

tonight. Am I the only

homosexual in this room

tonight. Am I the only

one whose friends have

died, are dying now.

And my art can’t

be supported until it is

gigantic, bigger than

everyone else’s, confirming

the audience’s feeling that they are

alone. That they alone

are good, deserved

to buy the tickets

to see this Art.

Are working,

are healthy, should

survive, and are

normal. Are you

normal tonight? Everyone

here, are we all normal.

It is not normal for

me to be a Kennedy.

But I am no longer

ashamed, no longer

alone. I am not

alone tonight because

we are all Kennedys.

And I am your President.

 

 

 

[beyoncé]

МАЈ

 

Сè што се случува сè што копнее

почеток има во некоја детска игра

Сè до овој миг кога мај

Ги маѓепсува просторите

И тебе дремка те фаќа

Ги склопуваш своите очи над моите очи

Само за мене насмевката си ја задржала

И со страв од смрт во мај

Ти мене ме љубиш а јас знам

и на тревите и на ветерот да им речам -

Нема друго време

Ни за живот ни за смрт -

Нема друго време.

 

(Радован Павловски)

[Sandens]

This wonderful woman

Stitched my neck

With kisses

And told secrets—

The silverware she stole,

Her spinster aunt

Living in Taxco, a former lover

With a heart condition.

I in turn, being educated

And a man of

Absolutely no wealth,

Whispered a line

Of bad poetry

And bit her left earlobe.

 

Gary Soto

Edited May 13, 2017 by Sundance Kid

[pt 2.0]

Srećna ljubav (V. Šimborska)

 

Srećna ljubav. Zar je to normalno,

je li to ozbiljno, je li to korisno –

šta svet ima od dvoje ljudi
koji ne vide svet?

 

Uzdizani jedno od strane drugog bez ikakve zasluge,
jedna u milion, ali uvereni
da se tako moralo desiti – kao nagrada za šta? ni za šta.
Svetlost odnekud pada –
zašto baš na njih, a ne na druge?
Da li to pravednost vređa? Da.
Da li brižljivo nagomilavane principe narušava,
ruši moral u provaliju? Narušava i ruši.

 

Pogledajte te srećnike:
kad bi se bar malo maskirali,
pravili se potišteni, bodreći time prijatelje!
Čujete li kako se smeju – uvredljivo.
Kakvim jezikom govore – naizgled razumljivim.
A te njihove ceremonije, izmotavanja,
tobožnje obaveze jednog prema drugom –
to liči na zaveru iza leđa čovečanstva!

 

Teško je čak i reći do čega bi došlo
kad bi se njihov primer mogao oponašati.
Na šta bi mogle računati religije, poezije,
šta bi se pamtilo, šta bi se osuđivalo,
ko bi hteo ostati u krugu.

 

Srećna ljubav. Je li to normalno?
Takt i razboritost nalažu da se o njoj ćuti
kao o skandalu iz viših krugova.

 

Divna dečica rađaju se bez njene pomoći.
Nikad ne bi uspela da naseli Zemlju,
jer se dešava vrlo retko.

 

Neka ljudi koji ne poznaju srećnu ljubav
tvrde da nigde nema srećne ljubavi.

 

S tom verom lakše će im biti i da žive i da umiru.

Edited October 16, 2017 by pt 2.0

[beyoncé]

čitam pesme ovog liverpulskog trojca po ko zna koji put u životu i svaki put su mi sveže i zabavne

 

 

Let me die a youngman's death

(Roger McGough)

 

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

 

 

 

Party pieces

(Brian Patten)

 

He said:

'Let's stay here
Now this place has emptied
And make gentle pornography with one another,
While the partygoers go out
And the dawn creeps in,
Like a stranger.

Let us not hesitate
Over what we know
Or over how cold this place has become,
But let's unclip our minds
And let tumble free
The mad, mangled crocodile of love.'

So they did,
There among the woodbines and guinness stains,
And later he caught a bus and she a train
And all there was between them then
was rain.

 

 

 

Tonight At Noon (For Charles Mingus and the Clayton Squares)

(Adrian Henri)

 

Tonight at noon
Supermarkets will advertise 3d EXTRA on everything
Tonight at noon
Children from happy families will be sent to live in a home
Elephants will tell each other human jokes
America will declare peace on Russia
World War I generals will sell poppies in the streets on November 11th
The first daffodils of autumn will appear
When the leaves fall upwards to the trees

Tonight at noon
Pigeons will hunt cats through city backyards
Hitler will tell us to fight on the beaches and on the landing fields
A tunnel full of water will be built under Liverpool
Pigs will be sighted flying in formation over Woolton and Nelson will
not only get his eye back but his arm as well
White Americans will demonstrate for equal rights in front of the Black House
and the Monster has just created Dr Frankenstein

Girls in bikinis are moonbathing
Folksongs are being sung by real folk
Artgalleries are closed to people over 21
Poets get their poems in the Top 20
Politicians are elected to insane asylums
There's jobs for everyone and nobody wants them
In back alleys everywhere teenage lovers are kissing in broad daylight

In forgotten graveyards everywhere the dead will quietly
bury the living
and
You will tell me you love me
Tonight at noon

 

[beyoncé]

počupao me vetar napolju al ne ljutim se. dok god sija sunce

 

Especially when the October wind

With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.
....

Dylan Thomas

[Sandens]

 

Ko hoće da doživi čudo
mora imati srce nevino
kao mleko,
ne sme biti uobraženko,
jer takvu stvoru
doživeti čudo je teško.

Ko hoće detinju radost da nađe
mora umeti da oprosti
onom ko mu podmeće klopke i zamke,
i one će se pretvoriti
u kočije, lađe
i u sanke.

Ko hoće da doživi čudo
mora se radovati kao laste,
mora mu biti dato
da može i zaplakati obilato
i kad do dečaka već odraste.

Ko hoće da doživi čuda
mora verovati da ona postoje
u svetu svuda,
da pokraj zvezda što ih vidimo
i nevidljive zvezde se roje.

Mora verovati međ' glasovima
koji dopiru do našeg uha
u tiho veče
da ih još isto toliko ima,
da i pesma za koju nemamo sluha
svaki čas ukraj nas proteče.

Ko hoće da doživi čudo
ne sme zgaziti na stazi mrava,
ne sme kamenom ptice da tuče,
jer od dvoraca gde čudo spava
ta nežna bića čuvaju ključe.

 

Desanka Maksimović

[beyoncé]

jedna zimska

 

Свидание
(Борис Пастернак)

Засыпет снег дороги,
Завалит скаты крыш.
Пойду размять я ноги:
За дверью ты стоишь.

Одна, в пальто осеннем,
Без шляпы, без калош,
Ты борешься с волненьем
И мокрый снег жуешь.

Деревья и ограды
Уходят вдаль, во мглу.
Одна средь снегопада
Стоишь ты на углу.

Течет вода с косынки
По рукаву в обшлаг,
И каплями росинки
Сверкают в волосах.

И прядью белокурой
Озарены: лицо,
Косынка, и фигура,
И это пальтецо.

Снег на ресницах влажен,
В твоих глазах тоска,
И весь твой облик слажен
Из одного куска.

Как будто бы железом,
Обмокнутым в сурьму,
Тебя вели нарезом
По сердцу моему.

И в нем навек засело
Смиренье этих черт,
И оттого нет дела,
Что свет жестокосерд.

И оттого двоится
Вся эта ночь в снегу,
И провести границы
Меж нас я не могу.

Но кто мы и откуда,
Когда от всех тех лет
Остались пересуды,
А нас на свете нет?

 

i prepev