for every poem that i wrote
there are seven poems
i did not write
because
i was afraid of taking it too far
or i was unable to find the words.

and, in my megalomania,
i feel guilt
that i am too weak
to enlighten you with the truth,
but only way forward
is not to quit
but to keep writing safe and easy poems
like this one.

i love the real war
the way it was thousands of years ago
when we fought for food and survival
and it was absolutely impossible
to reason with the enemy
and only the smartest won.

what you call war today is not war.
it is a fake mass media bullshit
built with incomplete idiotic ideologies
feeding on the weak and stupid.

when there is a real war – call me.
do not bother me over this new bullshit thing.

after so much bullshit
i am questioning myself
if i would fight back at all

we have reached the pinnacle
of emotional manipulation
and have completely neglected
developing our consciousness.

this is why we are not able
to become immortal and equal,
but we live in fear of each other,
and die young and weak.

slobodan milosevic lived
close to my high school
and i saw him pass by many times
and i always felt
guilty and weak
that i did not murder him

do not make kids
die as soon as you can
be unhealthy and weak
be unpredictable

when the night is cold
when the evil is too strong
when the volcanoes erupt
and the weak cry for help
when the nation needs a leader
when women need a lover
when men need a friend
when we all need a hero
whom shall we call?
whom do we need?
mr clarke!