Mind-o-scopic

keep-calm-and-love-science-15


Could you fall in love with someone’s mind?

 

For example, now, they talk about poetry,

and they are so serious and there’s fire within their words.

Or — you are watching the stars, it’s a quiet night, he is right by your shoulder,

Almost touching.

Nano-particles barely pass through, and it’s a bit awkward,

time is moving slowly now.

And you can feel yourself getting older,

But then he speaks about time;

about waves, about particles, and how light consists of both.

And he looks up, shows you the stars,

but doesn’t compare them to your eyes,

Rather, he says: „Did you know that half of those are probably dead?“

But that doesn’t make you sad,

you start to wonder why, and how nothing is as it seems.

There’s deeper parts within, microscopic bits and pieces (so weird!),

enormous Dwarfs, holes that are maybe holes (apparently not)

And dark matter —

It has no colour, but it’s called like that because no one really get’s it (that’s sad!).

And you realize now:

This world is full of mysteries, science is amazing in many ways,

if you know who to ask, where to look something up,

Don’t get confused on the way.

There’s misinformation, not to cause trepidation, I just want to say „Look out!“,

Think, and if something seems weird — ask, don’t fret.

You’ll find someone who ponders about.

But if they say it’s only how they explain

and it can’t be any different — Hold on!

Know very well, that’s narrow — there’s no absolute!

Science is evolving, changing constantly, even Stephen Hawking

changed his mind.

And that is a sign of a true scientist — being wrong is alright!

The important thing there — is to remove the mistake, so

if it comes from you then get rid of it, too,

there is no shame in that!

 

But we wandered off topic, my question is forgotten,

So let me remind you:

When will you fall in love with someone’s mind?

Doctor’s office

Laughing doctors meme


I

It was a month ago,

and I wasn’t feeling well.

My head started burning,

and I had mild chest pain.

I decided not to care,

but my anxiety was stronger,

so I turned to Google,

couldn’t take it any longer!

II

I tried not to panic,

but I typed WebMD

and there, clear and simple,

said: “You have 99 hits!”

My diagnosis:

“You moron,

go see a doctor,

here you can’t find help!”

III

“You have to go to this MD.”

Alright.

“Please, go there.”

Okay.

“We need your blood.”

Fine.

“More!”

Come on!

VI

Hollow metal pin

made me frown.

Yet again the velvety blue

spreads under my skin.

Cold, metal stethoscope

Rubs against my chest.

I’m naked from the waist up

in a sterile room;

and they all say the same,

but really mean:

“We don’t know what is wrong

But surely something is.

So go visit my colleagues,

who will then diminish

everything others said.”

Fuck that.

But I went nonetheless…

V

And here I sit now,

writing this poem,

not knowing still

if I’m really ill.

September

15541409_376768759326070_7825553307591737798_n

Here is a poem featured in CalendArt by the Balkan Writers Project. They also organized the Belgrade Poetography Exhibition last year, which I’ve already mentioned here. And, as last year, the promotion was fun and creative, a great experience!


Rustles — feverish, sore
Whistling — chronically loud
Eyes closed,  September strides
overtaking what came before.

Weeps — rainy sweat
Whines — stormy breath
Embraced by nature rushes forth.
Who knows where it wants to go.

In a raincoat, looking at the sky,
I’m wondering: Will it arrive?

 

Birth of January

January Sunrise in Austin Texas 6


Rejoice now,
January is being born.
For a few moments
in between, there is no Time.
The night has almost passed.
Vermillion sunrise over the horizon.
People are awake, well, most of them.
Some are just taking a break.
You can’t admire the colors from here.
There’s only beauty within
and that can be hard to see.
Snow shimmers as Sun grins.
Not meant to abhor, but also
it isn’t a lovely sight
when January is being born.
And it took seven hours,
give or take,
happened more than once,
but it will never happen again
the way it did last time…
So goes for everything
in this world of ours.

Game Over

game over, marija mrvošević, child, globe

A boy. Restless, hyper-all
through vessels sugar rushes.
Oh, the fun!

Cars on a colorful rug
against the laws of physics
follow lines.
Toy soldiers fighting aloud —
shooting, breaking, demolishing.

A plush Teddy, now a stained bear — suffers.
Stuffing hovers and falls.
Broken pencils, scraps, slips, splinters
taking over the floor. No room for
a car and soldier toys.

A child, when there is no more space for him to play — departs.
The mother will clean up; the child will return.

A Human, when there is no more space for him to play — departs.
The Mother will clean up. The Human — removed.
No room for a toy soldier if Mother gets hurt.