Anonymous Despair/Anonimni Ocaj Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

'why are you looking for a charisma within yourself, stuffed bird
the possiblity of enlightment divides you endlessly
from craving a mission
the smell of earth concentrated circles of stupidity and ignorance
like rings
the further I don not understand
it looks to me like a dead sentinel' (Johny Shtulich)


bare in each star
that sharpens the knives of fear down the silver
to pour down into emptiness the keys without an opening
always somehow into wrong keyholes

an anonymous despair staggers behind the fragrance of deer
freedom is a horrible thing when you've got nowhere to go with it- isn't it

you'd rather exchange it for a cigarette smoke
bitter rakia from the spring of each drink
or her hands that now embrace the air

now what- when there's no charisma that could feed you
when all the idols burned lie in the ashes of lies
when you know that the birds stuffed with the news of the end of the winter
cannot fly because of the eye frozen at the bottom of a trophy

now where -as you elbow your way and push through the sentences of a story
in which you did not want to be a narrator anyways
not even a side character-through the word needle ears
searching for a new hero that will not be yourself





'zašto tražiš harizmu u sebi punjena ptico
mogucnost prosvjecenosti razdvaja te do u beskraj
od žudnje za misijom
miris zemlje koncentricni krugovi gluposti i neznanja
kao prtenje
ono dalje ne razumijem
cini mi se da je mrtva straža' (Džoni Štulic)



ogoljen u svakom zvijezdi
što oštri noževe straha niz srebro
da sipa u prazno kljuceve bez otvaranja
uvijek nekako u pogrešne brave

anonimni ocaj posrce za mirisom košute
sloboda je strašna stvar kad nemaš kud s njom - zar ne

rado bi je zamjenio za dim cigarete
ljutu rakiju s vrela svakog pijanstva
ili njene ruke što sad grle vazduh

šta sad kad nema harizme koja bi te hranila
kad svi idoli spaljeni leže u pepelu laži
kad znaš da ptice punjene vijestima o kraju zime
ne mogu da lete sljed smrznutog oka u dnu trofeja

gdje sad dok se guraš dok se provlaciš kroz recenice jedne price
u kojoj ionako nisi htio da budeš pripovjedac
pa cak ni sporedni lik - krož rijeci iglene uši
u potrazi za novim junakom koji nece biti ti