Nedim CISIC

IF I THINK SOMETIMES

(short poems in passage)

 

" If I presume that it is Friday, and later I find out that it is actually Thursday, I do not feel the least satisfaction of winning 24 hours. "
Sol Belov, Man without a stronghold

  
IT SEEMS

It seems that again I am not able to
Come and hold you
I am missing the strength
Which I thought I had
All I have left is the wind
And the white flag
Which I let fly high.
 



WORKING TITLE 

I compared some things
And I figured out they were different.
I set some standards high
and now I cannot reach them.
Now they're left on the closet, in the company of the dust 
And the books that have a problem with height above the sea level.


 

SOMETHING THAT KEEPS ME AWAKE

The mirror helps me create a better image of myself.
When everyone becomes a mirror
I am an accidental by passer.
In the contours of my own existence
I become a part of everything.

  


THIS IS MY SECOND SUICIDE TODAY

…
everything stops
on your lips



HARD WORDS
                           
Still, I mean
so
Even if
Let alone
Even though
Although, or
Maybe,
however




WHITH THIS I PAY A TRIBUTE TO MY DEADBORN LOVE

A minute of silence

 

BON VOYAGE!

A desperate man does not live by the morning.
He gets tired by the senselessnes
And greets the leaves that go down the river.



 
I THOUGHT

I thought,
I will understand everything later
…but no,
everything was only then.
Now you are only a beautiful thought.




THREE SENTENCES ABOUT DAILY JUSTIFIED DOUBTS
(no, I am not satisfied with myself)

Mostly I try to forget
The beginning of all,
So that on the edge of the end
I could not mourn
That perfect senseless
In between.
This is the second last sentence about it.
The last one.




SOMEBODY GAVE A SIGN AND EVERYONE STOPPED


And everyone is wondering
Who gave the SIGN
And not
Why we are standing.


 

HABIT

Horror

Is just a moment.




THE PERIOD OF WAITING

if  I remembered
all the things I forgot
probably I would no longer know who I am 
I entered the period of waiting
And that's where everything crashed
You become the real picture of yourself
In the desperation
Everything seems different
Somehow satisfying
And so irrelevant
That the moment later
You know that it is exactly you,
That quasi man of a confused look
That only once upon a time
Had something to do with it all

In affect: N. C.