Poem by Elvira Kujovic
Fresh air or the Creation of God
(a conversation with a friend)
If I could just open the window
For the fresh air to come in
If there is any anymore
Maybe your mind would clear up a bit
As mine would too
Or, would it be better to go out for a walk maybe.
What do you think?
Why do people go out for a walk at all?
Do they go out to run away from themselves.
Yes, at the first line
They do run away from themselves.
Some people do that their whole life,
But it doesn’t seem to be working out for them,
And do you know why is that so?
Because their shadow is following them
And so, where ever they go
They carry themselves with their self,
And in their baggage all the ugliness of the world
Tied in a bunny like a flower.
Lying themselves day and night,
Lyuing themselves and everybody else,
And I wouldn’t like to run away,
I would rather find myself
In one of those few of me
Who have nested in my mind,
Who enjoy at my interesting company,
Who ride my imagination
And my schizophrenic thinking.
And crazy philosophy
By which I ensured their existance
Even for the sake of that life not lasting for ever,
While I am looking for myself and decompiling,
They enjoy in my pleasure, in my many facets,
And they change momently and lay up their heads together
What each of them will be
A critic, a politician or a magician,
A mother, an actress, a witch,
A moral refugee,
A friend or just a notorious dreamer,
And what role each of them will play,
What kind of theater just in my head,
They enjoy even in my anger,
Maybe even the most in my unrestrained anger
Towards the world and the world problems,
I allowed them to exist for many reasons.
First of all, the more they are,
They see and here better
And can react better and can struggle better
With problems, and can give more votes when voting
For just one more ox,
Who is charging his car by himself,
With the riches that do not belong to him,
“All for you”
Unloading them straight to his garden
With no responsibility to anybody.
I would like to find myself
but I am getting lost like in the labyrinth
and it seems to me
that the more I search the more I am getting lost
because they are spouting from me
as if the sea horse is giving a birth
and while this crazy world ship is sailing
I’m thinking and searching
the meaning of the existance of the world,
the life and the men.
This life full of nothing,
and we being empty,
I guess you don’t think it was God’s will
And that we as well as the cows
Should graze with our heads bent down
and us being the new guns ponted at,
to fertilize the meadows with our entrails
in order the world to collapse
around us and within us,
for we have swallowed the earth with blood,
our blood, our flesh
The raging fury
And to road to the ruination is getting faster,
How to endure that,
after we have defecated the meadows of life
without washing our hands afterwards
I do not know how
so many lost lives
do reflect on the CO2.
That is for the improvement of the climatic changes
even a relief maybe.
Thus a couple of hundreds of thousands of people
should be quickly killed and the climate will improve immediately
and the global temperature will increase for the 4 degrees.
A better climate promotes a better growth of morbidity and killers,
Simply the balance must be maintained
Between the ugly and the beautiful faces,
Between life and death
And there is nothing wrong with that,
while the world is rotting
And the man in the shade of ignorance is drifting
What are we doing?
All day long
We are mooing into the empty space
waving with our tales and hitting the flies
which are breeding around us.
God, I am really interested in what do that flies think
And why are they twiddling around us?
Do they think we are important?
we and our characters fake
or maybe do they expect some profit
from our fat buttocks
which grew from
somebody else’s meadows
the rows of the flies are following us
In anticipation of something
And they do not even know of what.
if you ask them, why are they following us
There is no answer,
Just a boring buzz,
Which they can not even explain,
with Their brains,
Full of smoke,
and to us, the cows
It doesn’t com to our minds
To move a bit faster,
To look left or right,
To raise our heads
And to see how the other cattle is doing
We are hungry cows
Who never get enough of gulping
And in other people’s problems stucking,
While we are with our four legs gushing into shit
And from all moral boundaries , universe distant
We greeze everything that stands on our way
Until we crawl, until we explode
While we do not suffocate in our bellies
While we do not take other people’s lives and air,
if that could have been a meaning of God’s creation
and whether we, human beings
are normal or crazy.