Post by niquetamere on Mar 17, 2008 12:44:19 GMT -5
The past should be killed with every day which comes to an end.
Delete it so it doesn’t hurt.
It would be easier to endure the lasting day
and it wouldn’t be measured with that which doesn’t exist anymore.
Today, fantasy mixes with life,
so there are no clear feelings and neither a clear life.
Souvenirs and memories screw me the most.
If it wasn’t for them, after these 12 years
spent here, I’d be a real American.
I would be stupid, work from morning
to night, eat hamburgers,
watch television and save up money to, when I
turn (if I turn) 70, go on a trip around the world.
I got a new telephone number.
Even that number screws me so I hurried
to tell it to old friends all across the world.
A new number for old friends.
Later I remember that nobody
called me on the old one, so I decided
it would be the best if I told everyone
that I won’t call them from the old number anymore
rather from the new one.
Even that decision screws me, and the old friends, and not having
new friends who I must tell the new number also screws me.
In all evil there is a little bit of good.
Being stubborn screws me. Everything bothers me.
The fact that the older my wife gets,
the more she resembles her mom screws me.
My children not wanting to go to Bosnia screws me.
They would rather go to Hawaii, it’s boring for them in Sarajevo.
So, Bosnia screws me too, and Sarajevo, before and now.
Hawaii screws me too, because I could care less about Hawaii.
I went to Bosnia, so far, 8 times.
I spent lots of money and that screws me because I could have
lived in peace without debts on credit cards,
so now even the debt screws me.
The fact that I don’t care about money screws me too, and since I don’t care,
I see that I will for much longer,
remain only almost American.
And the accent screws me, so when I speak,
someone always asks where I am from,
so I always prefer to remain quiet. They could care less where I come from.
The humidity and the hurricanes in Florida screw me real good.
I haven’t been to the beaches for years.
Since they forbid smoking in the restaurants,
I only eat at home. Not being able to smoke where I want screws me, and
the cigarettes from which I almost cannot breath screw me.
The American domestic and foreign policy screw me.
The American president and all around him
and next to him screw me. High taxes,expensive gas,
and the poor value of the dollar compared to the euro screw me.
The American television, American movies screw me,
and our movies which are as they say “informative”,
screw me too.
When I get depressed and it all comes together,
I go and spend money – buying. That’s how one empties oneself.
Not knowing of another method to empty myself besides buying screws me.
Not writing anymore and having no motives to write screws me.
Feeling that I have become stupid and thinking
that I wasn’t before screws me.
Maybe that screws me the most.
I don’t have my own opinion anymore. I pull out from memories that which
suits me so I create some theories and conclusions.
The war in Bosnia screws me. The stories from that war screw me.
Serbs, Croats, and Muslims, those now and those before both screw me.
The stories about heroes, thieves, and politicians from that war
screw me. The war screws me, and now the peace screws me too.
Nothing being the same as before screws me, not being like I was before,
and the fact that we are not like we were before screws me also.
The future, the present, and the past really screw me.
Where will I be in a year or 5, I have no clue.
Not knowing where I want to go screws me. Not wanting to go back to Bosnia
and not wanting to stay here also screws me.
The way I act towards myself and others screws me.
The present is demolishing me, mixed with the past,
and this future waits behind the corner to turn over.
The other day I bought a house.
With persuasion I brought two guys to tell me in my face how
they like the house. In the new house, I have
the new phone number. Nobody called me so far,
but probably will. People don’t have the time nor the money.
People, who I didn’t even give the number to, call me.
They say: This is your lucky day, would you
like a new credit card?
How do they even know my number,
and I didn’t even tell them?
Those who know everything including the telephone numbers screw me.
Technology screws me. I am not buying a new TV.
I use this one which is 10 years old.
I suspect that today every single one has a camera built inside of it.
Spying on everything that moves and lives screws me,
and especially that which thinks…
The expensive telephone bill screws me indeed.
That’s until I let everyone know. Afterwards, people again lose
the number which they wrote on the piece of a paper.
Having to explain to every American
that our hospitals and
schools were free
and that our mosquitoes are the same as theirs,
and not big like birds screws me.
Not having them believe me
when I talk about memories screws me.
The memories are so beautiful that it is hard for them to believe it.
Calling me a diaspora screws me, I don’t even know what I am
myself.
The unconscious lie and the conscious truth screw me.
The former citizens and the present idiots screw me.
Their life stories and histories screw me.
The territory of the former Yugoslavia from which they came
screws me.
The countries which emerged on that
territory screw me.
The fact that Zenica had 3 theathres and 30 tunnels
really screws me, because here in Orlando
which has 3 million inhabitants doesn’t have a theatre,
and I bet a million dollars that nobody on the streets
has ever heard of a man such as, let’s say,
Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
The lying, vein American moral screws me, and why
as a man can’t I see
naked breasts of a woman on television.
Having to always watch how someone cuts the heads of others
with saws screws me.
That saw and those breasts, screw me. It doesn’t matter anymore.
The mafia which doesn’t exist anymore screws me.
Now that mafia are the banks and the businessmen
with laptops in their hands, and not guns.
Screw America without a mafia.
Refugees of all colors and kinds screw me.
Their hope and stories about America being the country
where you can succeed screws me.
The Bosnian children which talk English
between themselves without an accent screw me.
The fact that I liked Selimovic and the fact that I know
by heart a lot of that
which he has written really screws me.
The past should be killed with every day which comes to an end.
Delete it so it doesn’t hurt.
It would be easier to endure the lasting day
and it wouldn’t be measured with that which doesn’t exist anymore.
Today, fantasy mixes with life,
so there are no clear feelings and neither a clear life.
They drown and slow us down constantly.
Delete it so it doesn’t hurt.
It would be easier to endure the lasting day
and it wouldn’t be measured with that which doesn’t exist anymore.
Today, fantasy mixes with life,
so there are no clear feelings and neither a clear life.
Souvenirs and memories screw me the most.
If it wasn’t for them, after these 12 years
spent here, I’d be a real American.
I would be stupid, work from morning
to night, eat hamburgers,
watch television and save up money to, when I
turn (if I turn) 70, go on a trip around the world.
I got a new telephone number.
Even that number screws me so I hurried
to tell it to old friends all across the world.
A new number for old friends.
Later I remember that nobody
called me on the old one, so I decided
it would be the best if I told everyone
that I won’t call them from the old number anymore
rather from the new one.
Even that decision screws me, and the old friends, and not having
new friends who I must tell the new number also screws me.
In all evil there is a little bit of good.
Being stubborn screws me. Everything bothers me.
The fact that the older my wife gets,
the more she resembles her mom screws me.
My children not wanting to go to Bosnia screws me.
They would rather go to Hawaii, it’s boring for them in Sarajevo.
So, Bosnia screws me too, and Sarajevo, before and now.
Hawaii screws me too, because I could care less about Hawaii.
I went to Bosnia, so far, 8 times.
I spent lots of money and that screws me because I could have
lived in peace without debts on credit cards,
so now even the debt screws me.
The fact that I don’t care about money screws me too, and since I don’t care,
I see that I will for much longer,
remain only almost American.
And the accent screws me, so when I speak,
someone always asks where I am from,
so I always prefer to remain quiet. They could care less where I come from.
The humidity and the hurricanes in Florida screw me real good.
I haven’t been to the beaches for years.
Since they forbid smoking in the restaurants,
I only eat at home. Not being able to smoke where I want screws me, and
the cigarettes from which I almost cannot breath screw me.
The American domestic and foreign policy screw me.
The American president and all around him
and next to him screw me. High taxes,expensive gas,
and the poor value of the dollar compared to the euro screw me.
The American television, American movies screw me,
and our movies which are as they say “informative”,
screw me too.
When I get depressed and it all comes together,
I go and spend money – buying. That’s how one empties oneself.
Not knowing of another method to empty myself besides buying screws me.
Not writing anymore and having no motives to write screws me.
Feeling that I have become stupid and thinking
that I wasn’t before screws me.
Maybe that screws me the most.
I don’t have my own opinion anymore. I pull out from memories that which
suits me so I create some theories and conclusions.
The war in Bosnia screws me. The stories from that war screw me.
Serbs, Croats, and Muslims, those now and those before both screw me.
The stories about heroes, thieves, and politicians from that war
screw me. The war screws me, and now the peace screws me too.
Nothing being the same as before screws me, not being like I was before,
and the fact that we are not like we were before screws me also.
The future, the present, and the past really screw me.
Where will I be in a year or 5, I have no clue.
Not knowing where I want to go screws me. Not wanting to go back to Bosnia
and not wanting to stay here also screws me.
The way I act towards myself and others screws me.
The present is demolishing me, mixed with the past,
and this future waits behind the corner to turn over.
The other day I bought a house.
With persuasion I brought two guys to tell me in my face how
they like the house. In the new house, I have
the new phone number. Nobody called me so far,
but probably will. People don’t have the time nor the money.
People, who I didn’t even give the number to, call me.
They say: This is your lucky day, would you
like a new credit card?
How do they even know my number,
and I didn’t even tell them?
Those who know everything including the telephone numbers screw me.
Technology screws me. I am not buying a new TV.
I use this one which is 10 years old.
I suspect that today every single one has a camera built inside of it.
Spying on everything that moves and lives screws me,
and especially that which thinks…
The expensive telephone bill screws me indeed.
That’s until I let everyone know. Afterwards, people again lose
the number which they wrote on the piece of a paper.
Having to explain to every American
that our hospitals and
schools were free
and that our mosquitoes are the same as theirs,
and not big like birds screws me.
Not having them believe me
when I talk about memories screws me.
The memories are so beautiful that it is hard for them to believe it.
Calling me a diaspora screws me, I don’t even know what I am
myself.
The unconscious lie and the conscious truth screw me.
The former citizens and the present idiots screw me.
Their life stories and histories screw me.
The territory of the former Yugoslavia from which they came
screws me.
The countries which emerged on that
territory screw me.
The fact that Zenica had 3 theathres and 30 tunnels
really screws me, because here in Orlando
which has 3 million inhabitants doesn’t have a theatre,
and I bet a million dollars that nobody on the streets
has ever heard of a man such as, let’s say,
Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
The lying, vein American moral screws me, and why
as a man can’t I see
naked breasts of a woman on television.
Having to always watch how someone cuts the heads of others
with saws screws me.
That saw and those breasts, screw me. It doesn’t matter anymore.
The mafia which doesn’t exist anymore screws me.
Now that mafia are the banks and the businessmen
with laptops in their hands, and not guns.
Screw America without a mafia.
Refugees of all colors and kinds screw me.
Their hope and stories about America being the country
where you can succeed screws me.
The Bosnian children which talk English
between themselves without an accent screw me.
The fact that I liked Selimovic and the fact that I know
by heart a lot of that
which he has written really screws me.
The past should be killed with every day which comes to an end.
Delete it so it doesn’t hurt.
It would be easier to endure the lasting day
and it wouldn’t be measured with that which doesn’t exist anymore.
Today, fantasy mixes with life,
so there are no clear feelings and neither a clear life.
They drown and slow us down constantly.