Marina Aristo Marković

Serenity 

it should connect the northern and southern hemispheres with absorbable thread, 

return the birds to the cities to cover the concrete with their wings, 

and turn the financial districts into sanatoriums, 

pass by the Goddess of Justice without a blindfold, 

throw off the military uniforms and build palaces of books, page by page, 

grind to dust the rocks behind which the barbarians hide, 

and barbarians should be sent to cemeteries to plant flowers in the spring,

it should immunize the population with truth serum should be carried out, 

fill the cups with dopamine, oxytocin and serotonin, and feed them into the bloodstream, drop by drop,

it should untie the nooses and dismantle the electric chairs,

and save the sunny days away from the stock market, so they don’t sell them for nothing, 

the wild animals of the mountains and forests should be released to tame the people, 

and all cemeteries should be turn into Alleys of the Great,

if that also fails, 

the heartbeat should be stopped,

to return to our natural serenity

***

The Journey Through Three Parts of The Afterlife

I carefully arrange verses about love which moves the world, 

me Dante,

from the top of the sky’s precipice,

from where it is clearly seen that the only thing left to do is avoiding words while there is silence,

avoiding the lights coming from the center where no one has kissed anyone for years

I sense disintegration, and the ruin of everything, I sense disintegration,

and the ruin of the world,

and I don’t dare to fall asleep there,

where false lovers of hidden weaknesses, adulterers and gluttons alternate one after the other, misers and spendthrifts, buttercups, infidels,

and those who are not trusted, 

bullies and traitors angry with the sun,

and those who scare children, birds and cats,

unfortunately,

the picture of the earthly world and its corruption was already painted a long time ago,

and there would be nothing special in this cage of mine, if you’re not here my Beatrice,

if you’re not in my tranquility,

no one has touched me so much, 

no one has touched me like that, like you in smell,

beautiful sleepy woman, like you in thoughts,

the woman I love in my cage

from which death is the only way out,

you are my light,

you beautiful sleepy woman I love,

you are my symbol of mercy and God’s love, before whom I have no secrets,

here we are at last in harmony of motion,

as our souls journey together through the heavens,

in the company of the souls of good and learned people and righteous rulers.

***

THE DISTANCE…

distance, detachment, remoteness, space, 

they say that the Distance between the eyebrows and the eyes reveals how friendly a person is to people, 

but do not pay attention too much to people’s eyebrows and hands, 

look people in the eyes if you want to see what they bring to you

it is especially important today, 

in a time of universal Detachment,

people don’t talk to each other anymore,

they have perfected all models of conflict, 

and they seem to be safe from the distance, where wars are fought 

and each one of them has its price,

because the mindless masses elevate idiots into heroes because of which the sun can no longer be seen, 

so everyone is in the dark, at a Remoteness from each other, 

satiated away from the hungry, and from the undernourished, who are so undernourished stored away, 

but there is a Space between two burial places filled with living earth, 

which is filled with people who fill it with remains, 

and with remains 

of their remains,

and all of that, people observe from a distance, 

while from a distance people kill, and

from a distance people hunt,

and yet 

there are enough wild and crazy people 

who love each other from a distance

***

self-isolation

If you can read, read something,

if you want to read

if you don’t want to

yawn take a nap, sleep all day, 

don’t even get out of bed, 

stink like garbage,

get up when you get hungry

eat, overeat, throw up

when you recover, find yourself a pastime, 

do something, do anything,

clean, wash, cook,

cook something

boil water and spill it, if you can’t cook anything else, don’t eat, starve

if you are bored,

if you are so bored that you feel sick,

go to the toilet

and stay there until it passes you by, 

until you are rid of the excess, 

until you are empty, 

then let the water go, and watch the water carry the essential part of you,

if you don’t know what to do with yourself, lock yourself in a room, and think,

think about those you love, if you love

think of those you loved, if you loved,

if you don’t love, if you didn’t love, bang your head against the wall until your brain hurts, 

or scream until the windows break,

if you know how to write, write a letter to yourself, 

write a letter to someone,

write a song to someone you care about

write something to anyone 

write something if you know how to write, even if you have nothing to write, and you have no one to write to,

and if you still don’t know what to do with yourself, 

cut off your fingers with an ax and cry until you bleed,

if you can talk, talk to someone,

talk to yourself or shut up,

keep quiet until you forget to speak

if you don’t know what to do with yourself, go to the attic and hang yourself,

when you are already so boring even to yourself 

**”

TWO

Even in the midst of these dark times, 

times of lonely, 

unloved, 

forgotten, 

left behind…

Even if there is one who would dare,

yet there is no one who would succeed 

in forbidding the meeting, to meet the two,

to forbid touching, to touch two,

to forbid beauty, to be admired by two,

to forbid love, to be lived by two who belong to each other.

Even if there is one who would dare,

yet there is no one who would succeed 

in forbidding two that belong to each other to be one.

*** 

A human being cries in the moment of birth

I look at the walking crosses, 

and I am amazed that the world still exists

It is truly strange that the world still exists, 

after each of the hells into which we are thrown

by those depraved ones, 

who collect works of art, but spit when they speak, 

and sneer when they see a pregnant woman, those who buy people and for years do not get out of debt,

those who suffer over a pile of dirty papers, 

and wear masks with a drawn smile,

and do not understand the one who suffers when he loses his manuscripts on public transport…

It is truly strange that the world still exists

after the explosions from which 

those dehumanized ones were born, 

because of which the air becomes heavier, 

heavy enough to press on the lungs, 

from which those who do not give you peace, until they make countless small cuts,

scratching your silence with their nails, 

because they do not understand it, 

and then leave you alone until you bleed…

It is truly strange that the world still exists 

after so many centuries, 

in which are born those whose evils fill hospitals, asylums, and cemeteries,

those who make trees die and rivers stink,

those who are trapped in lives in which they find no meaning, 

and who only wait for, and count the deaths of others…

Above all, 

it is truly a wonder that the world still exists, 

so it is no wonder that a human being cries in the moment od birth.

*** 

Before The World Turns Into Hell

I wanted to be found by someone, 

who would jump over walls,

and turn uncertainty into moments in which the senses are at their peak, 

while soldiers practice on mock battlefields,

I wanted to be found by someone 

who would win time with stories

what was he doing during the storm

and show me that creativity has no limits

while devils poison our food and air, 

and play with our blood

I wanted to be found by someone, 

who would take problems by the throat

and turn everything into a party that requires a world of only two people, 

while children are carefully raised to be murderers,

I wanted to be found by someone, 

who would take me to the place 

where the clarity of mind is found, 

with which in the end everything turns out as it should

until everything becomes nothing in the absence of wise elders 

I wanted to be found by you,

before the world turns into hell 

**” 

The Deaf Time

it’ s hard to breathe in the deaf time, 

while they look at us from afar, 

and burn cities to warm the soul, 

they turn turtles on their backs and perform autopsies on passers-by, 

from the ships, from which the oil is spilled over the water, 

they escape through the rat canals, 

they make fun of people who jump off bridges 

they turn parks into wastelands, 

and invest damaged body parts, 

they invest millions, 

in decay and ruin, 

they cover the peace with poisonous cobwebs 

and try to explain their origin with the color of treir blood, 

their devilish minions approach from behind 

and they coat the angel’s wings with tar,

and they curse The Creator for not recognizing them

in the deaf time, it’s hard to breathe,

children scream

women scream

men scream

everyone screams, 

to throw out the accumulated amount of fatigue, 

rage, 

dissatisfaction, 

sadness

in the deaf time, 

everyone is screaming for attention

in the deaf time

no one hears anyone

*** 

I’m Saving my Punches for Rainy Days

by Marina Aristo Markovic 

Nowadays, peace is hard to find, 

and when you find it, 

your life is in danger, because of the moving attractions that fight like rats,

because of those eternally hungry for strength,

spirit, 

fire and courage,

because of those who today, unfortunately, 

have a greater influence on the audience than Tesla, Dostoyevsky, Michelangelo…, 

who help us understand that the only thing left of this reality 

is the cemetery

I start to think that there is something slips out of my hands, 

so I misjudge situations and people,

although it seems to me, I am not wrong if I say

that if we add up the human mind and the potentials of humanity, 

the end of the world is a logical sum, 

the end of the world that slowly eats away at the bowels of the world, 

and sends us directly to hell 

I don’t know what my role is in all of this, 

except to be determined, even when I think of leaving my field, 

although I admit that entering a new circle makes me squirm,

I don’t know what my role is in all this, 

except to save the punches for rainy days, 

because there is a lot to know, 

but it is important to be able to hit back at life

I don’t know what my role is in everything, 

except to preserve strength, 

spirit, 

fire 

and courage, 

in important things and in the intersection of different events

because I always wanted the one and the same, 

I always wanted .. 

*** 

Devil’s Triangle

Someone said “happy people don’t write poems”, and maybe that someone is right, 

but fortunately I don’t write poems.

I’m just noting that it’s a bit strange to be happy 

in these unhappy times, 

but I’m weird, 

so one day I jumped into the devil’s triangle 

with a smile from ear to ear, 

rolled the dice,

turned the roulette wheel, 

and drew the cards, 

and then at the wrong time I waited for the right

moment 

to show the devil himself the light that had caught my eyes with desire 

and spread all over me.

Someone said “happy people don’t write poems”, and maybe that someone is right, 

but fortunately I don’t write poems,

I’m just noting that I once traveled all the way to

another continent, 

just to see a flock of seagulls carrying the sky on their wings,

and I thought that if I laughed loudly enough in advance because of happiness, 

i would manage to remind myself that one day it would backfire in the long run, 

that I’m laughing in advance

Someone said “happy people don’t write poems”, but fortunately I don’t write poems, 

I’ m just noting that once in a small apartment, 

at the head of the bed, 

I found a symbol of a perfect beginning, and a symbol of everything in one, 

and it was the right moment but the wrong time to look a wasted destiny in the eyes, 

Then the perfect beginning reached an imperfect end,

and then everything became nothing, 

but that’s how it is with wasted destinies.

Someone said “happy people don’t write poems”.

I don’t know, maybe that someone is right,  

but fortunately I don’t write poems.

*** 

Journey 

I traveled from early morning to late evening, 

I went through the hardest days of all, 

immersed in groups of people, and managing to hold my breath, 

I emerged among rebels and writers.

I traveled for months and years, 

going through difficult times,

next to various rulers and servants,

watching the powers fight, one with the other, 

one against the other, 

and it seemed to me that I was alone against all.

I traveled to the

edge of reason,

raising barricades between solitude and

isolation, 

from the barricades I watched the eruptions of passion and madness,

and then I slowly returned to myself, 

to be reborn,

and there, on the road to perfect thoughts, 

on the road to a perfect gaze, 

on the road to a perfect smile, 

there I met you

And now I walk on fire as best I can,

and I am doing well.

Presented by Ivan Pozzoni (Italian Poet writer)