Miodrag Jakšić Mića (Serbia)

Miodrag Jakšić Mića (Serbia)
Miodrag Jaksic – Mica was born in 1969 in Belgrade, Serbia. He is the founder and editor-in-chief of the Art Group and publishing house “Arte” which consists of more than 300 artists from around the world. He is the initiator and organiser of the International Art Colony in Krcedin (since 2007), International Belgrade songwriter Festival (since 2014) and International literary festival Indjija PRO POET (since 2017). He is the founder and organiser of the colonies in Temisvar, Bajzas, in Istra, on Pag, on Rtanj. As an architect, he has made more than 200 projects, analyses and studies. As a writer he has published 18 books and is represented in anthologies and textbooks. His works have been translated into more then 20 languages. As a publisher and editor he has published more then 190 books and publications and 16 LPs. As a journalist he has written more then 1000 articles, reportages, travelogues and feuilletons for domestic and foreign magazines, and has run radio shows. As a designer he has designed several logos, packagings, books, publications etc. He was an Assistant and Deputy Minister in the Government of the Republic Serbia and MP in the Serbian Parliament. For his work he has received many awards, both home and abroad. He is a prezident Center for serbian diaspora, board member of the Association of Writers of Serbia, Red Star FC, the Union of Composers, the Independent Association of Journalists of Serbia and Maria Sharapova Fan Club. He lives and works in Belegrade. Contakt: jaksicmiodragmica@gmail.com
With the thought that you accomplish me with a perfect creation
you unnoticeably entered my dreams.
I’m glad.
We connect the incompatible,
by a light gesture of hand, invisible thread of the lit
dreamology. We sow.
By the balance of pleasure and restlessness.
By the balance of blossomed will.
The harmony from field grasses and urban smog.
Like, unstable, this summer is.
Originating from as far back as the Old World. Sprung.
By dreaming you reinforce you position in the sky.
By dreaming you draw away from life.
By participation of the spirit, in dreams, you find your goal.
You are like all others, truly. Women I love.
Even when you don’t recall your dreams, you keep the feeling of dreaminess.
You know whether you are warm or cold. You feel dreams, always.
In the part between the body and soul, in the inter-step with them,
dreams have arranged their volume.
They made time easier for you.
They filled in the space for you
and filled you with themselves. As such.
As you don’t normally believe dreams.
Spring is coming again.
You will change your perfume and travel to Lisbon or Istanbul,
expecting for gold to run over you.
New hope brings new feelings
and you believe Baudelaire’s poems again
and his love for the mulatto Jeanne Duval.
You will no longer feel the need for Nescafe.
Ever stronger you will face your own prejudices.
You will return to your yoga teacher,
and you will, convinced that clothes impede meeting one’s self,
practice it completely naked.
Not really committed, you will persist in doing it, persist…
Regardless if you need a partner or not.
You will think about piercing you genitalia.
By consent you will sleep with several partners
to find out what you wish and want.
Reasons why relationships have to be kept secret
you will not want to know.
You will not tweet. You will love yourself.
You will not reject feelings of happiness. You will love yourself.
You will be dying in dreams, exist in reality,
and love yourself.
To make your day, you will buy the most ordinary small items.
Not really believing him who suggested you to change your looks,
you will start wearing even shorter dresses.
You will mock those with breast implants
and make albums taking your own photos.
Spring is coming again.
Yes, try with something new!
You were thinking for a long time and asking yourself,
Gathering answers, unreliable due to hesitation,
clothed in self-assurance what to tell him.
You are convinced how everyone knows that all you say in multi-layered,
woven from numerous dominant speculations,
wrapped in lucidity of quantum logics,
typical of beautiful women who you never doubt in.
You are aware of the power of suggestibility.
This way, convincing, you play with male weaknesses,
dance with madness on the verge of decomposition.
Yet, this time, again, something is not the way it should be,
therefore you are asking yourself…
When you tell him: I love you. He agrees with you.
When you tell him: I’m leaving. He lets you go.
When you don’t tell him anything, he takes you to bed.
Are words then really necessary
if you don’t want to have sex with him at all?
I have to replace him then, it comes to you, one way or another
he isn’t bothered by trivial female flaws.
Tears, fake orgasms, gossiping.
Remember… you.
You are never doubtful, even when you don’t wear make-up.
Your beauty feeds you.
There is nothing unnatural on you. You are protected by a little carnation,
your natural oral antiseptic.
Like with all others. You don’t need large black glasses.
In such moments you can rely on the clarity of sparkling eye.
You can think with the help of experiences. This part of you will never let you down.
Find somebody else, then, who will, for this reason, fall on his knees before you.
And when you depart, you don’t hesitate.
You march along the avenue of woman courage,
like a female jaguar, from club to club, you rock,
without redundant substances and opiates
by effort into whole to unify complex inequalities
you will try to find a new answer to an eternal question:
Is there conception without sin?
Walking is never completely covered by the travelled path.
This you are aware of, continuously.
By distorted pride, like memories,
you will carry the smell of a new man’s sweat on your skin.
In your cleavage, between breasts, you will put a goodbye letter
for the ex, to be given to him the next day.
Don’t finish it by a text message. A curse will fall on you.
Illuminated by a torch, a little flame of unrest will be kindled in you.
The complexity of what you are experiencing at the moment
foretells a turbulent future.
Your hormones are raging, due to spring, more than a teenage girl’s.
Yet, I only wish you set the things right
and broke up with him.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s