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Milos Petrovic

I am a poet and poetry performer (jazz & poetry sessions) from Serbia, former Yugoslavia (South Eastern Europe). I studied philosophy and Serbian language & literature in Belgrade. I have over 4,000 poems that have not yet been published. I do not intend to publish any of my work here in Serbia any more, because conditions are very bad for selfgoverned artists of any kind. majamilos035@yahoo.com


Broken china

I love You, just the way I love China
Steal – white book
Hunt – the snake of whisper
The Sun, during the sunset – break into roses.

I hate You, just the way I hate Death

In the Year of the Dragon

To breathe my last through you

Smile will turn You into the butterfly
And only then
You should land on my cheek.

Wake up as an orchid
And let me breathe You,
Breathe my last through You.

* * *

Fondle snake with the morning
Fondle, with the morning, the snake.
        Snake fondled with the morning
        Snake, with the morning, fondled.
With the morning, fondle the snake
With the morning, snake should be fondled.


When they discovered Etna or sea in me
They told me that I was talented for Death.
That I can cheat and force
Bird from the fire to sing
While she is making cover with her wings
She won’t let the rain to fade my eyes
Because I dare to take love out
From the girls’ feet
With a strength of a bull
And to put it in front of a young man
Who is dressed in Moon’s ram’s fleece.

When they discovered ardor in me
They told me that Aiolos would burst it into flame
And to find in myself, the trail of circle
Which is, now, becoming a riverbed without a river.
All rivers are in my saliva for a long time,
Warm and silent.


Dear lady

Dear Lady, it should be clear to you
That we don’t have anything to talk about,
To talk, or to listen,
To exchange some nice thoughts, picture made of words,
Ray of look or smile, there is no reason
Dear Lady:
That isn’t because I hate you, that is because
I love you so much.
Because of that, my dear Lady.
Do you know who is sitting on the top
Of Rhoden’s “ Gate Of Hell “?
Dear Lady, I long for the last poem.
I don’t have time for you, I don’t have patience.
Or to be honest: I am not in a mood for the interview.
And, are you, dear Lady, ready to make an inter view?
You want to have good look at me?
And don’t have to pay for that?
So, one jukebox worth more than a poet!?
You’ve found cage for every beast, but not for poets!?
Have you seen “ Doctor’s Loose Portrait “?
I’ll try to find the right word,
To show you that we don’t have anything
To talk about.
Dear Lady, have you ever spat blood or tears?
Then we aren’t appropriate conversationalists.
I don’t have anything to teach you.
I won’t say anything that you already have known:
There is something in me that resemble Hemingway.
I hadn’t listen to old man,
I’ve started to chase stars.
I’ve been salao, dear Lady, salao, .
I won’t say a word about freedom.
They say that I am gloomy,
‘Cause for me, every day is the day
For great deeds, for great victories.
They are wondering about so much pessimism
In such a young man.
I don’t know, maybe I am not even interested in the cause.
Dear Lady, I had a little misunderstanding
With a Captain Life…
I didn’t carry out his orders,
I didn’t obey…
They think that I am gloomy,
Even more than Heraclites,
But I can’t reach that.
I need so many beautiful words,
So many, so many!
Heraclites was gloomy like the ocean, like the night-
And I am the Dark, dear Lady.
You can’t help it,
There was one foolish poet, my colleague,
Who was, just fifty years ago,
Howling on the stages through America:
“Wake up! Wake up!”
But nothing could help, dear Lady:
She has just walked away down the hall,
Without turning back.
I know, dear Lady,
You will say:
“You should know. I will get married. “
He will respond:
“So what! Get married! “
Agony turned in the turtle is passing very slowly
Through this world of weak and mean people.
How and when will you say to someone
That you love him?
Say that!
I am here, beside you. Go on!
Say that and we will fly,
High to idea, to principle…
You are afraid of life,
But you are afraid to lose it, too, dear Lady,
So let them take you!
At least someone will feel nice.
Summer is coming, heat and malaria,
Winter is approaching, frost and fairytales…
Spring won’t come.
It had been here, and it’s gone…
Life on Earth should be more pleasant without people?
Some strange people who were passing by
Took me off the gallows, where my friends had put me.
Except eternal reminding of pain,
What else did we get with Shakespeare?
And, have we started to love life?
I have dreamed about her saying:
“I’ve been dreaming about you. “
But, I’m just a soldier
Of an unbeatable army of dead people,
Which was sometimes allowed,
Just before the front, to play with life…
For us, dear Lady,
Every day is the Valentines day.
Whenever I buy a new record,
I turn it on to an empty room,
So silence can get used to it,
Can accept it,
And then, later, I ask for permission…
Yes, dear Lady, they are laughing at me…
Birds, dear Lady, birds are laughing at me,
Yes, you heard well, birds are laughing at me,
Whales are laughing at me,
Even when they are silent-
I can feel the sneer.
I don’t allow you, dear Lady, to make an interview.
I won’t give you any interview.
All games that people made up,
And all holidays, and all ways, and all directions,
All that is stupid and boring,
And it can’t lead to anything and anywhere.
Writers don’t know everything about their characters.
Do they, dear Lady?
Suns are setting on every side!
You are not noticing that,
But that is the only thing I can see!
My room can’t be seen from the streets.
My dreams can be seen from inside…
Go on, dear, go on and tell
What a nice talk we had.
Tell that I am beautiful, wise, cultured,
Well-read, attentive, kind, pleasant...
Tell them that my eyes are blue and wide open,
And that I’m smiling.
But, dear Lady, don’t even shout at your children!
What would it be if Barabbas was crucified!?
Go, I’m not inspired.
I don’t have anything to say.
But still, I think I am not too old for God…

Go dear Lady! Go to hell!


I wish I didn ’t love, I wish I couldn’t love

I wish I were a horse, so they could kill me
If I broke my leg,
I wish I were a fly, lizard could cram me,
I wish I were a dragonfly, so,
with the dark, death would come to me,
I wish I were Jesus, so they could crucify me.
I wish I didn’t love, I wish I couldn’t love.

I wish I were a river, so I could dry,
I wish I were the Sun, to burn the ground
And to turn it into firebrand, to seen,
I wish I were the most beautiful flower, and then to fade,
I wish I were a spring, to flow in, at the moment.
I wish I didn’t love, I wish I couldn’t love.

I wish I were a bridge, to separate,
I wish I were a dream, to have an end,
I wish I were a candle, to burn myself,
I wish I were an executioner, to kill myself.
I wish I didn’t love, I wish I couldn’t love.

I wish I were a fish, to chase the lure and the net,
I wish I were a snake, to stretch out under the axe,
I wish I were a virgin, to lose my virginity again,
I wish I were a bird, to land in someone else’s nest.
I wish I didn’t love, I wish I couldn’t love.

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