It doesn’t make me crazy

 If I talk to myself;

 I am simply in a relationship with my words.

 Maybe I ate a delicious cookie, and now I’m trying not to step on the scale,

 As it has painful proof of it.

 I’ll burn those extra calories, taking it in aloud.

 I do not need to schedule the time; the words are always open to me.

 Beside love,

 They are the most intimate and precious possessions of mine.

 It fascinates me how the simple things in life,

 People often intend to turn it into a difficult puzzle.

 They are trying to fit in the impossible game,

 Intentionally, they’re aiming to fail.

 You’re suddenly listening to the random conversations.

 You’re making assumption on your own,

 Even though they are speaking a foreign language.

 You’re stupidly avoiding learning something,

 That you actually could use

In this limited lifetime.

Why are you trying to intrude the beauty?

Invest yourself into the relationship

That occupied your own heart and being.

My relationship with the words

Is the longest I’ve had.

I’m still getting to know them, each day,

Realizing how much of amusement they offer,

And how much undiscovered art they contain.

How untouched and fresh they sound,

As a new born child.

We are all using similar words,

But I am not threatened,

Because nobody said any of them

In a way my words are use to be said.

So, do not look at me like that,

I like to make sense of nonsense,

That makes sense only to me,

In my long discussions with myself.    


       Metkovic (Croatia)




When you look into your inner self,

What is the first image your heart sees?

I have searched my soul.

I invited the brightness of healing,

From the place of fresh air.

The thief of self-destruction will rush into the precious time,

And it penetrated unwelcomed breath,

To my lungs.

Why do we act without wisdom,

That shines through,

If you open your eyes?

So, why do we close them?