One of These Days If Not Tomorrow

/, Blesok no. 67-68/One of These Days If Not Tomorrow

One of These Days If Not Tomorrow

Autumn in Skopje
Wind and Fog
From Now, until Forever (to S.N.I.)
I Do Not Paint, I Make Love to the Canvas
Stations In Between
I Decided – Definitely
Some People
You Can See His Misery

Through the suburbs
built from poverty
with facades of bare bricks.

Those who came from Comingland,
came here to escape
the thing that you can’t escape.

Depression in the walk,
from being jobless to the street,
from care to no way out.

(Calendars in the kitchen,
naked women or icons –
they cross and pray
in front of them both.)

Illegal houses for tamed men,
the father of the municipality
will tame them before elections.

The suburbs are just
stations in between – from the inner state
to the centre of town.

But as the suburb dwellers
push to the centre
the citizens run from it.

To the new, elite suburbs,
that are only stations in between
on their way to their native place.

2018-08-21T17:22:57+00:00 October 12th, 2009|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 67-68|0 Comments