Ne daj se Ines,ne daj se godinama moja Ines.
Drukcijim pokretima i navikama,
jer jos ti je soba topla, prijatan raspored
i rijetki predmeti...
Imala si vise ukusa od mene
tvoja soba... divota
Gazdarica ti je u bolnici
uvjek si se razlikovala
po boji papira svojih pisama,po poklonima,
pratila me sljedeceg jutra oko 9 do stanice
i rusi se zeleni autobus tjeran jesenjim vjetrom
kao list niz jednu Beogradsku padinu.
U vecernjem sam odijelu, i opkoljen pogledima
Ne daj se mladosti moja, ne daj se Ines.
Dugo je pripremano nase poznanstvo
i onda slucajno uz vrucu rakiju i sa svega nekoliko recenica lose prekrivena zelja
tvoj je nacin gospodje i obrazi seljanke
prostakuso i plemkinjo moja...
A tvoje grudi, krevet i moja soba objesena u zraku kao narandza, kao narandzasta svjetiljka nad zelenom i modrom vodom Zagreba
proletirskih brigada trideset i devet
kod Krkovic.
Pokisla ulica od prozora dalje
i sum predvecernjih tramvaja...
Lijepi trenutci nostalgije,ljubavi i siromastva,
Upotreba zajednicke kupaonice
i molim vas ako me tko trazi...
Ne daj se ines
Evo me ustajem tek da okrenem plocu
dali je to nepristojno u ovakvom casu, Mozart, Requiem, Agnus Dei,
Meni je ipak najdrazi pocetak...
raspolazem s jos milion njeznih i bezobraznih trenutaka nase mladosti,
koja nas provlastitim ocima
vara, krade i napusta,
Ne daj se Ines.
Poderi pozivnicu,
otkazi veceru,prevari muza odlazeci da se pocesljas u nekom boljem hotelu...
Dodirni me ispod stola koljenom,
generacijo moja, ljubavnice.
Znam da ce jos biti mladoti,ali ne vise ovakve u prosjeku tisucu devetsto trideset osma,ja necu imati skim ostati mlad,ako svi ostarite,i ta ce mi mladost tesko past,a bit ce ipak da ste vi u pravu jer sam sam na ovoj obali koju ste napustili i predali bezvoljno A ponovo pocinje kisa,kao sto vec
kisni listopad,na otocima more od olova
i nebo od borova,udaljeni glasovi koji se mjesaju glas majke, prijatelja, kceri , ljubavnice, roda, brata ...
Na brzinu pokupljeno rublje pred kisu
i nestale svjetlastom bjelinom , jos malo setnje uz more i gotovo
Ne daj se Ines...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjDwiMZVYRE&feature=related
Monday, May 12, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Michel Piccoli to Bardot in Le Mépris
while laying on the bed, naked.
“Yes, I love you totally, tenderly, tragically.”
“Yes, I love you totally, tenderly, tragically.”
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
All I need
I am the next act waiting in the wings
I am an animal trapped in your hot car
I am all the days that you choose to ignore
You are all I need
You are all I need
I am in the middle of your picture
Lying in the reeds
I am a moth who just wants to share your light
I’m just an insect trying to get out of the night
I only stick with you because there are no others
You are all I need
You are all I need
I am in the middle of your picture
Lying in the reeds
It's all wrong
It's all right
It's all right
It's all wrong
It's all right
It's all right
It's all right
RADIOHEAD
I am an animal trapped in your hot car
I am all the days that you choose to ignore
You are all I need
You are all I need
I am in the middle of your picture
Lying in the reeds
I am a moth who just wants to share your light
I’m just an insect trying to get out of the night
I only stick with you because there are no others
You are all I need
You are all I need
I am in the middle of your picture
Lying in the reeds
It's all wrong
It's all right
It's all right
It's all wrong
It's all right
It's all right
It's all right
RADIOHEAD
Friday, March 14, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
For you my love
For you,
My love
I went to a bird market
And I bought a bird
For you,
My love
I went to a flower market
And I bought a flower
For you,
My love
I went to a junk market
And I bought a chain
A heavey chain
For you,
My love
And I went to a slave market
And I searched for you
But I couldn't find you anywhere
My love
Jacques Prévert
( love can not be owned. it does not exist as such. )
My love
I went to a bird market
And I bought a bird
For you,
My love
I went to a flower market
And I bought a flower
For you,
My love
I went to a junk market
And I bought a chain
A heavey chain
For you,
My love
And I went to a slave market
And I searched for you
But I couldn't find you anywhere
My love
Jacques Prévert
( love can not be owned. it does not exist as such. )
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I promise to love you
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