o uzroku i smislu

8/14/2019 o Uzroku i Smislu

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Milan Dragovi

ON CAUSEAND MEANING

(1996-2002)


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This is a book about NOTHINGA book for all and none,A verification of the system of valuesAnd all its informers.

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ABSURDITY is the key to it all,

at the end of whichare we.This is the point where absurdity gains meaning,and we get the key.

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What is this NOTHING?

It is Nothing that I talk about... and if by chance you are

interested in this NOTHING,then there is nothing.Stronger than this

is already something.

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... said: ITS TOO DARK

And what do you know about light?!Light is the blade of darkness,and few are those who get across,without being cut thats why many people bleed.

I know the taste of your blood the taste of the severed rose:who threatened the night, taking vengeance against the dark:gathering it in a dew drop in the morning sun

on a roses thorn.This is my tear.This is my dream.

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EPITAPH

This is addressed to yougreat star in the name of love

be the one to take care of me make love immortal

and death ephemeral.

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MONOLITH

All the signs of the night pasthave vanished without a trace,and the morning keenly triesto get hold of the day attempting to find a sign of her.

The red sunsetmade it clearthat the night has slain the day,and is now tryingto hide herself in shade.

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ATLANTIS

or a version of the final text of the law

Thought suicide, is like an iceberg:upon it you can rest, but you are never safe.

On a wall of a church it says: Thank you Godfor returning my soul now I can weep.

At dusk, the natives of the Tumba-Tumba tribeset on a quest to search for the sunwhich has set behind the forest.At general amazement, on the second day they found itin the village of Atlantis.They returned to their own villageand at the crack of dawn ate the hen

who has laid the sun of out superstition.

A man can resist it only bybelieving it is nothing,otherwise he gets scared for he is far from home.

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ANAGRAM

They accuse Him, so He would tell themwhy Hes guilty.Since He cannot find the answer, He becomesa threat to the meaning.

Where is life but in faith;faith in meaning;and meaning in life.

In order to be certain of this that lifeis impossible without faith in meaning,which He has equated with righteousnessin order to understand it better (for He fears it might not be so),the only possible solution emerges:They reach a verdict which He called for Himself.

This is why They know not what they sentence Him for,and He has told no one.

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THE CASTLE

Once there was a castlealmost deserted.

And in it lived:

a rain-soaked half-plucked hen,who just escaped from the clawsof some enormous beast and was expectedto lay the sun.This hen was called Will.

There was also a king

like a pulsation of empty space:him I dubbedMind or thought.

As is appropriate for king and castlethere was also the inevitable court jester the fool:whom I named Hope.

If Will is the redeemer and bringer of joy,and in her each act there lies a commanding thought(in this case it is this king from this castle),then by all means one should not believe that it is possible to separatethis thought from wanting so in this case in order forthe Will not to become utterly worn out:

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the king had to help this unfortunate henso all of them could survive.I speak of Hope as a court jester: for I know

that moderate scepticism keeps the Mind perpetually awake,whilst faith dies in the dream she has woven herself:thus giving birth to Hope in henlike blindness owing to the fool,who last night said that the sun is being born somewhere else,which the hen did not believe and thus spent the night awaiting.In the morning when the sun came up the hen became blind,and the king was about to leave the castlefor he was haunted by strange spirits throughout the entire night,and so the fool, in order to set the kings mind at ease(since we know the fool is at times wiser than the king)

told him a story, and it goes:

There!It is nothingthat I talk aboutand if by chance you are interested in this nothingthen there is nothingstronger than this

is already something.

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A CUCKOO WANTS TO BE A BIRD OF PARADISE

A cuckoo wants to bee a bird of paradiseso she waits and waits for an egg to plant in neata bird of paradise hoping shed befit.

Throughout the whole night she thought of a songbut in the morning she wailed all along.

So she prepared a plan in secretbetween her wailing and my estimateof what time before daylight we have left.

One guest ceremony she conducted and the days of the year thus got wedded.

All in waiting for that which is to comenone of which without her could be done.

The sun on its path, a dark cloud behindrain it contains, spite it barely constrains,washes the song to illuminate the blazeof the cross in the eye of eye of flamecrucified is the love of the born soulone who now treads across both high and lowseeking to cast his gaze upon her face the face of this song tween sigh and sigh

the white coloured eyelid of a birds eye.

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BEYOND THE CLOUDS

I am asleep and not asleep.I hear somebody is talking,

but there is no sound.... As if somebody is rummaging through things

its too incomprehensible.I reflect reflection,

its the only thing that sounds like this:like someone is looking for a thought.

And the thought escapedand now is free,

beyond the reach of all description.And I know not where it isand I know not if it isis my soul free now?

And the tonguelike a child under the tableeyes wide open, awaiting

for something to break beyond the clouds ...

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I LIKE TO SLEEP

I like to sleep.I like to die for a while, while my body stays inand dreams of how Im alive in my dream,and I dont know its mesince Ive yet not been born in that formunaccustomed to that skin.

I like to sleepand dream someone elses unfinished dream, formaybe that someone thought it was boring.He did not know visit each other at hours of darkness.Without doors without windows we wait for dawnwhich resides somewhere else, hanginglike crystal on a dream thread of mankinds sadness.

The sun lightly riseslike a spider on an invisible net of life,and gentle vibrating of souls can be seen,like on a trail: from heaven to heaven.

This dream that got caught on a thornby the road gets ripped in the windlike a morning dressunder a gush of timecoarsening and turning to ash grey

the only shade the sun gave away(draped in it).And like emberonly the stars can be seen

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in the night all dark and dim for your arrival awaiting.

And perhaps they dont exist either.

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THE TUNNEL

When you enter empty space and stumble upon so many thingsyou know youre alive:and if you end up in a mental hospitalit means youve seen them where there were none.

What do you make of it:your mind going mad, and you staying sane,telling it: Well its your fault for being stupid,and then it takes you to a nuthouse.

The open managerial positionreminds you of early youth,and the first obsession of finding yourselfin something else.

In a flower pot? somebody asks me along the way.Do you grow your madness in flower pots?

Of course not I answered politely,Ive seen it in a movie She is his sun and he is her husband.

Exiting the movies soa joke came out of my head on its ownin the middle of the streetand it got hit by a tram.

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A scream was heard.A shade that fell from a nearby buildinggot blown to bits and is now in the hospital yard.

The doctors say it will hardly hold for more than an hour.

Through immense pains, through the suns raysblindness by light and the dark lingering like a memoryof a man with a raised arm, shading himself from the sun.I thought... my mind is blind and it was only fear.

In front of the church I ran into a beggar whosomewhere deep inside his soulhas a distinctive feelingthat somebody owes him something.

Not before the temple I predictshould we allow shame and conceit.Our eyes ensnared, devoid of tears, desiccated;we wonder why in spider web theyre trapped.

I have a feeling I ate my brain:though I said nothing more than I understandevery time I think it makes me want to vomit.

A few steps away the wise men stood and watched.And I like talking to wise men:the wise keep silent,and I listen.

A teacher walked on by (the presence of spirit).He mumbled to himself, something like:

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The one who needs to be taught cannot be taughtunless the one who is to learn desires to learn.

Just after he found the thought, the one whichalso meant the beginning of his undermining, sinceright after being confirmed the thought refutes itself,he said: Maybe its Gods punishment, and hastened on.

As I hurried along after the teacher (the presence of spirit)somebody stopped me and asked: Do you know Michael?I answered: No! And then he asked: Do you expect me to know

Michael?I asked: And who is Michael? And he said: I dont know, I thought he

may have been hit by a truck.

After not more then a few steps, she appeared from behind the corner.Hi! say something.Have you never heard of a gaze, I saidthat strips the skull right to the bone? and stroked her hair.

Oh? she said.If youd read Freud and Yung youd have known what your problem isand this way, you will soon needto get help from a psychiatrist.

And youve read them then?Certainly.

I was a spectator in an experiment in which Freud and Yung tried to curean unknown madness and then I raised a revolution and killed my leader.

Although many are misled regarding the following, I must tell themthat understandingdoes not come from reading;

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nor it is exclusively in the domain of our reason.

I want here and now.I do not want ideals that enrich the soul,nor an idea that exalts and transcends life

promising immortality, while betraying you.

And I dont want to be a piece of paper on the tableinto whose face sinners carve in their name,and I dont want to be alike anything in this lifethat has a role predestined by fate.

I am not satisfied by the given meaningand I know what a circle with no middle is: one without the other.My path is a path of the heart in eternal reflection;I want to obtain my freedom by grasping the essence: in the centre of the

circle.

... And thus my circle turned into a straight line, abandoning mein search of the curve of the universeso it could unearth me again in the shining of starsin your eyes.

I handled it well, not knowing I know,and now youll have to cope with knowing you dont know:for I am a spy in the house of loveand I can see exactly where all your dreams cease to be.

I know it all,and still I tremendously yearnfor you to teach me something

I would love to love you.

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THE BELL TOWER

This is not a translation of language.its a translation of thoughts.Better to keep silent if you understand it not,for the one who doesnt know, always can be taught.The one that speculates, he can merely guessAnd he who knows therefore is voiceless.

I was recognized by my thoughtsdividedwhere were they hiding, in badlandswhat were they dreamingwere they concealing- in there, were they even living?

Silence fretsby the bell tower.Dark has taken hold, so the fool has told.The immortals feast while the bell sleeps,a hand of doubt along its ropeline creeps.Character description, the final depiction.

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AT THE END OF A BARE INFINITIVE IN FUTURE TENSE

Ill wipe off with a cloth the spot where Ive beennothing save for dust shall after me reside,make sure it doesnt scratch your dreamy eyes;Im wept through tears of birds and fish pearls in a seashellglimmering this night;in the infinity of the universe stars in solitude alight.

And when a world of remembrance appears before youfrom behind a corner that does not existon a street which leads to memories distanced from its parent city,taking you to a place where the expected spotis gone you dream:

stars in solitude alight in the infinity of the universe... no apostrophe there needed

I grow...

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I LIKE TRAINS

I like trains that travelwithout my permissionand the train driver not knowing I exist.

It seems one verse is missing here...

but I cant remember what came before.

Perhaps one time I might question whether the earths globeever actually passed through hereand Im not at all the suspicious type.

I thought this was a path to the stars

so I only bought a ticketin one direction

it didnt fitneither on my papernor in my mind...

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JUDGMENT DAY

This is a story below the psychological lowestwhich is why no one will know to whom it is addressed.

Two friends ran into each other both having similar views about the world only there was no world a black hole (aha! now what you gonna do?)

... What will our views about the world be like now?,asks the first one, perhaps black?

Who knows, its gone answers the other.

On a panel it says:

No matter how open-minded a man may be,he must know his way home if he doesntit means hes either homeless or insane.(what if hes drunk?)

Further along a man with a club is standing behind a corner.I ask him what hes doing and he says:Im waiting for judgment day.

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AH, WELL...

That isnt like you!

Many things are nothing like me,and still people think its me.

Well, what does that have to dowith what Im saying now?

And why would I be thatwhich others think I am?!

I was referring to a certain specific

feature that denotes your personality.

This too is a specific feature of mine.Maybe the most important one, but its invisible.

What do you mean, invisible?It has to be visible according to your life style.

Ah, well you see: this featuredoesnt live with me, it is free.

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REFORM OF SCHOOLING

Here I do not write as I believebut as others expect me to.

They each awaited their own kinas if hed in a death-camp beenasking him what came abouthow and when did he get caughtif his origin he gave awayif he someones grudge attainedhe might be recognized his plots realizedhow would then the unfortunate ladsave his face and keep his name clad.

From his comrades he kept himself aloof

for days he often avoided even foodwiping off his footprints going backwardsso nobody would expect his return.He would at times visit home in a dreamwhen everybody would be asleep,and even there he feared hed be discoveredand so no word he ever uttered.

Now that everybody has renounced himboth his name and his origin he will know.

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THE LOST COUNTRY OF NEVERLAND

(Bring out your dead)

Had Stigoje the Betrayed charredhis wifes eyes as was the law back then

Neverland would find sight in her souland this way....miserable and blackshe has eyes and yet is blindwandering searchingfor the ember of the flaming swordto endow her with what is rightly hersso shed find escape from the Hadesand be able to look herself in the faceand in a single tear wash her eyelashes,through a window like an empty hollowrelease her soul like a white doveto be her eyesight and her guidetill she reaches the very heaven arc

and God himselfnot knowing nor hearing.

Upon returning home she then mayin a mirror her reflection gazecleansed from shame and disgrace....in a graveyard beside all the gravesthat others have afflicted upon usone of our own making could too residewhere we may bury all deceit and lies.

Then her soul will finally be at easeshell be able to see her self existin a mirror made of tears

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as through poems verse the poet searchedfor the lost country of NEVERLAND.SHE KNOWS

She knows how to seethough is being born blind.

Sees with eyes closedno hindrance there at all.

Aware of her existenceand the existence of the globe.

Feeds on the surrounding darkness,and comes upon my eyesto see the unseen looking for you.

Like a frozen lightthrough a tear of mine, a glitterof the morning sunrise.

Oh how beautifuland unmarred is the worldwhere thought has never resided.

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STRANGE WAYS

A man devoid of love in fear of madnessindulges his urges.In search of answers he makes his waythrough untrodden domains,and then stumbles upon a strange man on his doorstep:Well, where were you? Are you never home?I was running away from fear.So, fear has driven you to run off to a placewhere you can never arrive at?I dont know, it was something unknown.Are you always afraid of this unknown?No. I am afraid of the actual possibilityof losing direction: for on my wayI came across a sign that said I came from wherethere is nothing at all to tell you thateverything is possible. Ill wait for you at home.

So what do you make of that? (this is the first time he leaps out)1

Nothing much. My thoughts are trying toreconcile the difference between that imagein its symbolic meaning and thatin its true sense.Are you certain of this? (this is the second time he leaps out)(Im sorry, the main character got a bit carried away:he apparently allowed himself such insolence,to enter into a debate with the one who hired him,therefore Ill have to remind him whos in charge here.)Without love, without love:without love thered be no world.

Now, off you go home.

1 help to the reader

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A TALKING EAR

Van Gogh ripped off his ear because he couldnt believewhat he had heard, and what he heard was a voice, saying:Regardless of your eyesight, you are blind.

Good thing he didnt take out his eye tooin search of the seed of doubt that in him grew.

Not unusual are those who enjoy and give their bestto live in deception thats where they escape to restfrom honest life and all its tasks and tests.Thats where no one bothers them and they have no peace, itstheir first apt opportunity to catch the thief:and he gets away like inspirationwhich dwells in self-belief,the inhabitant of condemnation;when everybodys condemned, they turn to themselves,for they imagine that their importance is so immense

that they cant live unless its according to their tastefor the world would shatterout of massive griefcause they are victimsof their own false belief.

It is self-pity....Repent while theres time.Solitude is not that bad.A lie is far more barren therein even shadows cheat on their masters.Solitude will teach you how to live in pairs.

The way you are living now,is a life out of habit.

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THE PURSUIT AFTER THE KILLER-RABBIT

Part I

ILL FIND HIM, IF EVEN IN CABBAGE

According to his trails, he cant be far off.I feel it because of the darkthat gets the chills each time I think of him.He hides out in gorges and inaccessible caveswhich count down his slow endinglike the beating of my restless heart.The pounding of rain in the ears of a petrified mouse what will happen when he spots him? my unclear image(of terrified space that keeps narrowing itself downin order to protect him, and widening in order to devour me)of a distorted gaze does it remember his facewhich it has never seen before?

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THE ODOUR OF ENLIGHTEMENT

A Zen student waiting for this teacher thoughtsince he had some spare time on his handsitd be best if he relieved himself, so he went

behind a nearby bush to drop a load.Along the way it dawned on him to ask the shitwhether that morning it has been a banana?

The other students saw him crouchingand asked him what was he doing there?He replied back: Im waiting for the teacher.

Just at that a slight gush of windrose a cloud of dust out of whichappeared the teacher on the road.

The students quickly ran up to himand told him about what theyd heard and seen.What was his name again? the teacher asked.Basho!!! the students replied all as one.The teacher then said: If it is so, now I

dont have to go to him, he is enlightened and the smell speaks for itself.

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AT THE JOY OF READING

To a students question whether he liked the poem,the teacher replied:I have read and I will read some more.

There are those who have an opinion.There are those who have an opinion,

but dont agree with it.There are those who have no opinion.

I am not my own opinionso I couldnt tell what its thinking.

I have read and I will read some more.

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DOORS OF HEAVEN

Oh doors of heavenfashioned for deathI want inside, to a life with no end.

It is you I searched to discover,and with our two sighslove Ive uncovered.

The sun is bornto be the third one in this:a child outshining bliss.

A heartbeat

like blood in the arteriesrushes to the ears of deaf space.

That blunt blowdevours my yearningand increases my craving

that in the last blowthe one mixed with pain

bliss I manage to attain:

within the voicepiercing through silence

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I AM ALIVE.

MY DEPARTURE

You before me, sweat and blushas I compel your core to rush.

Walls besieged in full restrainof regrets of passions of pain.

You holler as I pierce you throughoh obscure night you eat me too.

You strangle me as I twitch in vainoh sweet death whats your game:

ecstatic transfer to the other sideor a new wound on this torn hide?

Your eyelids now gleam with goldthe starry dew keeps you in its hold.

That is all that I have left behind a gleam in an enamoured womens eye.

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PICTURE

I would like to have your picture.

I would like to use it as a markerfor the pages I have read.

To put it downwhere Ive left off.

So like the morning openingthe night the sun can come out.

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MIRACLE

No poem is addressed to you, for noneis worthy of your names true value.All of these things created up to nowhave held you in mind all the while,

but were never rightly boldto have your name herein told.

Meddling word from you I flee in fearshould you recognize yourself in here:

but you always manage to draw nearso I change your name till it disappears:so that others cant discover you or seeseize you then and part you from me.

I have given away my heart to youoh my envisioned image my icon truea heart hung around the neck of space and timeas a helping hand for those passing bya road sign pointing to endless life in eternity

pathway to the stars in your names gravity.

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AUM

The hunt for the ape sacrifice

A Sanskrit sign

Jumper

The rider or the ape

Mind

As thought follows behind

Then

The ideal solution

Is

AIN SOF

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BEHIND YOUR MIND

Printed in highlands, a book of the lawwhen was forbidden, came to each home.Amid games with no frontiers she moved unseen:mesmerized all door locks with tunes enchanting she unleashed her heart upon a mountain springfrom which this charming melody does sing.

Your tortured soul long ago imprisonedlived by the shade of your name shelteredtill great love brought a change to it all:my name is love, and the name is gone;and now your soul is free to roam, forthis is a place behind your minds home.

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PRIZE KEY FOR DOORS NUMBER 16

Puzzle offered as a key to the given inquiry.Find a situationfor the winning combination.

Youre observed up close by doors ajar, upon you setthe heavens eye, impossible to tell by whom youre spied:

the cause is on the lookout for the consequence,ancient dark seeks lights imminence in hope of dawn,that which is to pass that which is yet to come;

all of which is in that crack and interruption

of those doors ajarat the welcoming reception...

We await for the one who knows.

Just a moment!

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NEXT

How could the Force of Heaven be believed inby those who dont even believe in their own belief;thats why some believe without knowing the motif.

How could the Force of Heaven be believed inby those who neverweep in their sleep.

How could She then believe inthose whove betrayed their closest kin,

betraying their very self theyd betray Her too, if only they could.

Nonetheless theyll come to bowpray and plea for their own lives

it will be too late by then... pray for others instead.

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Part II

IRRADIATION OF THE BRAINAND RADIOACTIVE DOWNPOURS

Resembling a trail of light clouds,white-boned my thoughts vibrateat the very notion of the rabbit.

The killer-rabbit must be creeping upinside that cloud made of misty swirl.Every inquisitiveness will perish out of fearif it fails to realize that hope will merely deceive if will is not the one to rule over the desireto reach the final goal before our very fall.

When the mist got dispersedI had a strange feeling I was near the rabbitthough I was left with no proof.

And the frogs that fell from the cloudgave a croak all pleased and loud when theyve fallen, though crude landing,they have proven they are something.

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ANECDOTES

IN MONTENEGRO

If by chance in Montenegroa gusle player served as a preventative measure in a prisonthere wouldnt be many prisoners left:some would turn to thinkersothersto slain heroes.

A SERB DIVIDED IN TWO

What ever comes to mind, from a Serb you can buy,there is no such thing hed hesitate to sell.If the price is right, hed even kill himself:

prepared to do it all for a bit of cash;he can be saved only by his other side the compelling urge to cheat you of your hide.

A DALMATIAN

Around his neck a little chain, he sees nothing as a game.Towards the bridge he strolls, engaged in deep thoughtHes as quiet as a mouse as he works out his retort,and then, the donkey came, suddenly he makes it plainhis head up high as he makes his bragging bray.His eyes blue like sapphire depths of high seaswhile uncontainable cries that come from the deep

billow his belly listening to him, such a bliss:

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PEOPLE FROM THE MOUNTAIN

All with someonethey with no one we are our own, they say

but none of their own ever comes their way;were carved from stone, they affirm(to Gods grace)

that is why we are so stern.On the ears theyre even harder,and their tongue rejects to flatten(for it could not be any harsher)unless the echo gives the answerwho upon the highland treads:a new word can then be said a forgotten name there bred.These great mountains must be wise, forengaged in thought, all along

here they satproud and strong.By heart they knew each souls nameand a nickname even fairer gave.

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YOU HAVE TO BE A MAN

One who always repeats the sameshouldnt have spoken at all,it was sufficient when for the first timehe spoke what was on his mind.What kind of a man is the onewho never changes his opinion;no man is like a donkeywhom nobody listens tonor seeks his opinion,who carries his burden till hes dead its not at all that simple.Most important is the idea.It is not as you will it.You cannot go searching for itits not a lost goose

to be therefore found,instead, it is the one to find you and strike you precisely between the ears

a donkey can prick up his ears all he wantsto him it will never come.

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A STARTLED TELEVISION SET

Guilty are those who ruled up to nowso let them have itgood thing they got thrown down,they shouldve set a better exampleshared all things instead of trampledin even portionsand according to merit,and for those struck by weaknessthose with denied consciousnessthey shouldve opened a humanity fundwithout favouritism in taking part.So let them have itgood think they got thrown downthey shouldve set a better example:now the newly arrived, the ones whomanaged to throw down the old crew

shove their heads into the tellytrying to seewhat therein can be!?

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EXPENSIVE LIFE

A cheap story(freedom in money)

How much? Ten. Why fifteen? Because you heard wrong. I hear just fine. Then you did not understand. I am no fool! Well then the price has gone up. Oh well, everything is so expensive.

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A MAN TOLD ME

This thing that happened to meI like what happened

because I cannotescape the impressionthat Ive been cheated in lifeand that everything has a priceregardless of the fact thatwhat was back then isnt this that is nowuntil it happenedeven worse I believeto believe that perhapsit is in factwhat Ive looked forand actuallyit just never fellinto placeto show whos who

and if it werent like thatit wouldnt be like it is now.

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Part III

NO SIGN OF THE RABBIT

I was told he was killed by a manin a nameless village on the other side of the lake.But as I never heard the shot, Ill go and seewhether its true.

For a few days I randomly walkedthe entwined paths and goat tracks

but no sign of the name of the lost villagenor the goat nor the rabbit-killer.

It suddenly got dark.

I cast a quick gaze at the rocks above me. The goat stabbed the sun with her hornsand the killer-rabbit in his teeth holds the manwho was said to have killed him.

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THE BOY

I ate the first violetso Id be granted a wish.I ate a rose budeach time Id think of you.

I threw my head into blackberrieslike playing throw the stone of a shoulderand then all smeared Idwatch the clouds floating by.

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