A Man with a Guitar

Men talk on the public square,
Pigeons eat on the sidewalk and fly,
Women flirt and feed the pigeons.

Men, envious of pigeons,
Desire more attention from the women
But women only notice birds who know how to sing.

There comes a nightingale that starts singing
And attention moves from pigeons to nightingales;
There comes a man with a guitar, and he starts playing

And singing like a nightingale.
A woman allured by these new sounds
Forgets the pigeons and nightingales;

She shyly starts to sing
And turns to a man with a guitar.

poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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My Other Self

I am your slave, desire,
I am your slave, pride,
I am your slave, vice,
I am your slave, success.

Get rid of desire, desire said,
Get rid of pride, pride said,
Get rid of vices, honor said,
Get rid of competition, success said.

I will still be the slave of sin,
The slave of matter,
The slave of love,
The slave of myself.

Get rid of sin and lust,
Of matter and love,
And you will get rid of yourself,
Said my other self.

[...] Read more

poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Unending Life

People often consider life after life.
Maybe because they think there was no life before life
Or maybe they don't care about the life before life.
Yet if there were life before life, it's quite logical
There must be life after life;
If we were here before we were born,
We will be here after we are dead,
But if there was no individuality before,
Why would it exist afterwards?
It seems that this problem is not one of life
Or death, but an issue of ego
Which doesn't accept disappearance
Of individuality in the sea or the disappearance
Of unending life, of all in all.

poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Sounds of Life and Love

Love: Which is more important: Love or life?
Life: Without life, there would be no love.

Love: But without love, life would have no meaning.
Life: True, but life gives birth to love.

Love: And what gives birth to life?
Life: Life gives birth to itself.

Love: Nothing gives birth to itself automatically,
There must be some cause, a reason or an action.

Life: Life is without any cause.
Love: If life is without a cause, then it is without a purpose.

Life: The purpose of life is life.
Love: No, the purpose of life is love.

Life: You must be born to exist.
Without life, there is nothing.

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poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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I Remember the Snows in the Summer's Light

I remember the snows in the summer's light
Thinking of winter in summer;
When I see the blue, I see white;

I see the fume over roofs so bright,
Feel the warm air caressed by azure,
I remember the snows in the summer's light.

Summers are lazy in my inner sight,
Winters, lazy on the outside, are sure to secure
The blue when I sense the cold of white.

Winter takes me on a summer's flight
To visit the summer and endure
Snows and remember the light.

Perhaps I like spring and fall best,
But winter is spring in summer to allure
Me to feel the fall and see blue in white.

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poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Memory and Oblivion

When all is lost, there is still a memory
From which a new city can be built in a new world.
Those with memory will be wealthy.

Oblivion cures the old wounds, and you must agree,
There is only the past and the future on the path;
When all is lost, there is still a memory.

Memory will save oblivion from a bad reverie;
When the new city is built, it will be an abode,
Bestowed by those with memory to make others wealthy.

Before the temple, in the middle of the city,
Keepers of the fire all abided.
When all is lost, there is still a memory.

Fire will be born from night to be
New light when all knowledge is swallowed
And those with memory will be wealthy.

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poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Unusual Love

Our desires flew like birds in the mornings
When we were waked by the bells of dreams
Hypnotized and ready for another round of living

We would walk down the street of a foreign city mesmerized
By our own history seen on the streets and in the gardens
Filled with exotic flowers and the grass; you loved the grass

You said you would teach me everything
I never found out really what but I accepted you as mentor
To learn whatever might be

I accepted the usual, but unusual, ways of life
And lived a life I never thought I would.
It became a typhoon passing through paradise.

You accepted my gifts but perhaps not my ideas
I thought I knew you
Although I hardly knew if I knew myself;

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poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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