Biljana's poems

From the Diary of a Melancholy Girl

2012-01-17T18:59:00.001+01:00

Everybody I know carries a message: there’s a message in what they say, and even when they don’t say a thing; there’s message in what they do, their attitude, their chosen way of life, the way they follow their dreams, the way they abandon them These messages often vary in amplitude and frequency, but let’s not get into that, it’s beside the point…I sometimes have a lot of time on my hands, and it seems to me that I am doing a favour to the waste, life seems infinite and my dreams are shards of glass…

Sometimes I stay away from people, because there’s a message in their behaviour, a message so painful it hurts even at night, when all is calm and dark and I know I don’t have to, but all I can do is picture the head turned the other way, the street crossed abruptly, the frozen look, the furtive glance…And just as I thought things were getting better, there’s no meaning in the messages sent by these dark shadows I wake up in the morning and sometimes it is still the same: the refusal of recognition, the deadening silence, or, the lies, the manipulation, the deliberate misinterpretation…don’t know which is worse.

And if it’s silence that I must take, I prefer nature’s silence, nature’s whispers, away from people, away from explanations and complaints, because nature doesn’t ask anything from me to make me feel a part, a generous welcome, always, without fail Yes, I have changed, but I haven’t fallen.

My message is still within me, within every breath I take. But every exhalation is a sigh of exasperation, because no one would see, no one would care, no one would stop and listen. I am a blur on the margin of the picture, I am an extra in the rush hour scene. Worse than a faded street sign, worse than a puddle of rain, worse than my own interpretation of my understanding. I got it all wrong Yes, I have run out of things to say No, I am not arrogant Yes, I have tried. Yes, silence hurts.

And then I get the message: those who I thought needed me, don’t really need me, there’s a difference between who I am and what I do, and if I stop doing everything, I still am, but it is what I do that keeps me in people’s phonebooks…how sad So I need something else, something that would leave me out, a gap, a given, and I say it aloud because I am usually loud when I don’t like what I hear The phone goes down: not used to my rejection, refusal, the disbelief is audible, the rage totally out of place. I put the phone down first now, without further explanation, or better, I disconnect the line I have a message of love and I will put it in a bottle, the old-fashioned way. It was in my heart and I tried to send it, but what I got back will be written in the stars one day, takes a while for the light to return Meanwhile, the scars I carry on my heart are a message of a kind, for lack of words.

People act defensively when they’re upset, people are upset when they see the truth the other way. People are upset when their scheme is torn apart, furious when they have to decide between a polite way to say go away and an easy cut to the way out. Who am I to say this? I am one of the people, of course. Failure and weakness are no strangers to me…and I have thrown out as much as I have been thrown away. I look around me, as choices have been made, and I am nobody’s choice I blindly go on, seeking attention, looking for a logical explanation, framing and reframing and weeding lies out of the truth Silence is so much easier. That, and observing people, because they can’t be like that all the time. I am getting a head start in their own game.

After a while, I will be so detached that no one in their right mind will have the guts to reproach, tell me off, because how would they know where or when to strike the blow Silence and invisibility, my new aspects, my new messages…

My life is a secret, my days are a mystery, as these days I can’t even say I am happy without someone spoiling the whole thing with poisonous comments and emptiness. Now I am immune, silently feeling all my feelings within. No point in sharing, this is venting misery and this is silence and my new found strength…My message. My own.

Because Life is Beautiful

2012-01-13T21:00:00.000+01:00

...and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

to all "poachers" out there

2012-01-13T02:54:00.001+01:00

My work is already published and protected by copyright. So please don't waste my time anymore.

http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/black-and-white/15711710

Thank you,

Biljana

The Death of the Author/ IMPORTANT

2012-01-13T01:22:00.002+01:00

I, Biljana Petrova, express as my dying wish that my works be treated with respect and left in peace when I am gone.
I WOULD LIKE TO STRESS THAT ALAN JOBE AND LIBDRONE BOOKS ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO PUBLISH MY WORKS, NAMELY THE NOVELLA "BLACK AND WHITE".

I am in no way associated with them and they have stolen my manuscript. If it appears anywhere in any form, please feel free to ignore it, report it and convey my last wishes.

I am the writer, the author of my books, and I will defend them with my last breath.

Good bye.

Biljana

Down to the Last Secret

2012-01-11T09:55:00.004+01:00

We all know the secrets
From the very first day
They're revealed in dreams, recollections
reveries.
The eyes try to take it all in
Absorb every detail so the world's
no longer a secret.
Certainty and knowledge help us move on
Until it all becomes transparent.
There's nothing left to reveal
Nothing else to hide
Only a distinct shade of hope
That we've arrived at the right moment
To say goodbye to the setting sun
And leave the final breath to the state
Of mind which is no longer a secret.

We forget we already knew it at the beginning.
We only remember when we're beyond the end.

No Clues

2012-01-02T20:24:00.001+01:00

Who are you?

(No, don't tell me.)

Just one look and I take it in.

I know how it goes from here.

I know it will end in tears.

I know you will do something cruel

And senseless just to hurt me.

And then talk about my lack of

Self confidence and insecurity.

No. This time, I see it all.

I pass you by, rude as it may seem.

But I really couldn't care less.

You may be whoever you end up to be.

At a safe distance from me.

I am not impressed.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

New beginnings

2011-12-30T14:12:00.001+01:00

We have all the time in the world.
And there's always a part of me that will know when's the best time
To give in, to let go.
A sum of all parts, ethereal, transient, essential and concrete
And a dash of certainty when thoughts and eyes meet
And always time to do more
To dare, to dream....

Be happy, healthy and wise in 2012, and thanks for reading my blog.
Best wishes!

Hope

2011-12-27T21:48:00.001+01:00

Suddenly, a dream...
It sounds like a good idea. It sounds like something I might do...
Drift away and dream and find inspiration and create and write and give it some sense and order and beauty.
Because that's what I do.
As years go by I realize there's nothing special about December 31, the calendar transition leaves the Universe completely indifferent. The sun will shine on New Year's Day. It won't matter to our generous star.
Or maybe I am getting old for parties and just want to do something meaningful, for a change.
Maybe that's the answer, everything has significance if you choose to make it significant.
Mere conventions and parroted phrases don't give meaning to anything. Ask the heart, there's no satisfaction there. But the soul..the soul is hopeful.
Here's to a better brighter day...Make that a Happy New Year

Optical Illusion

2011-12-26T13:36:00.003+01:00

Here is there.
Over there is just not right.
Reading behind a mirror.
Looking for the trick.
The double vision. The candle.
The shadow. The voices in the box.
The particles and the waves.
The stars and the sand.
Overwhelmed in a trickle, in a blur.
Mixed emotions. Never sip from another's cup.
Inebriated, feeling sad.
Down on the corner. Confused.
Too far away, too close.
Never adding up to the attempt of the hand
To reach out and touch what happens to be there
but springs out of reach forever more.

Protest

2011-12-25T21:18:00.001+01:00

{EAV:27b9216b11804a5a}

Do you understand? Do you?
Paradox clashes between the absurdly stupid
and the stupidly absurd.
But it takes a certain amount of knowledge
to see all that. To balance and find peace.

They go on.
They are bold.
Empowered by lack of resistance.
Do you care enough to protest? Do you?
See, those eyes, determined to step up
And die for a belief.
Nothing to lose.
Putting everything at stake.
When you leave your sofa to join in
That's when it's no longer fake.
But it remains absurd.

Suddenly, a dream

2011-12-24T12:09:00.001+01:00

Unexpected memories.

Drops of rain on the lens.

Flickering dots of light

Blurring the corners.

Suddenly, a stream.

Consciously remembering with

pleasure and delight

Where I've been , where I am now

and filling the blanks in between.

Unwanted sadness.

Slipping away through my fingers.

With the imaginary sands of time

As I steer the pen over the pages.

Suddenly, a dream.

Finding its way through the night.

Rearranging distances.

Putting everything back in its place.

Dream on. It's all right.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

When All is Said and Done

2011-12-23T10:53:00.001+01:00

It's said. It cannot be undone.

It is cracked and broken and fragmented

Beyond repair.

Not even collectible.

Not worthy of splintered memory.

Like a bad bruise turning blue

Like a battered soul torn between

Despair and disillusionment.

It's there. And let it go further away.

To the point where it's unseen.

To the point we can pretend it's never been.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

In the Distance

2011-12-17T20:23:00.001+01:00

That's not familiar. That shade in the distance

Slipping away in a paler shade of grey.

It's not me. I am here, now, on the other side

Of the winter of discontent. I survived the old times.

I went through battles and dreams

Wounded at the seams of time.

Again. Looking back, in the distance.

An unfamiliar figure. Challenging me.

Telling me there's something else to see.

Something forgotten. The transience of memory.

For all my sins.

Why would I want to remember?

Why wouldn't they forget?

Closing the door on the shadow.

With a careless thud. Moving on.

Cheating time and rules of drama.

I am no heroine. Nor am I interested in

Making everything even. Not me.

From a distance, it all looks peaceful.

It's all there, behind. I have to be cruel to be kind.

My soul comes with me. Battered and bruised

With nothing to lose. Nothing that I cannot see.

Done with hurting. Happiness is a shortcut.

Overcoming the present in a leap

To the horizon, to the stars, to wherever it is

That I wish to be.

Distances are no longer important.

I don't care.

And you're free not to follow me.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

Another Day

2011-12-13T21:18:00.001+01:00

We don't care. We don't dare.

Lest the empathy is held against us.

Mercilessly. Endlessly.

Tied to the myths and the conventions of yore.

No escape and renewed punishment

Forever more.

Join the ride. Run and hide

From the tidal waves rushing in.

Leave nothing to chance. It's a once

In a lifetime opportunity. To seize the day

Or let it go by.

Either way it goes away.

See how the hours slip away.

See if they care.

See if the stars and the sky so much as blink

And you're not as important as you think.

Willing it to work, it's either magic or despair.

Or something entirely different.

Or the same in a different way.

Stop making sense. It's easier.

Give in, give in and don't think about it

It's easier.

Let the water flow

Let go.

Down at the old waterfall of time

Another day tumbles down in the sea.

Time means nothing to me.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

My heart (From the Diary of a Melancholy Girl)

2011-11-12T10:21:00.001+01:00

My heart melted on the marble tiles, next to the serpent-like sculpture, deep in the heat of a day in May, set on fire by a look in carefree eyes…

My heart was frozen into oblivious sleep, on the slopes of the highest mountain, while I was trying to reach the iced peak- the hope for a new love.

My heart was caught in a reflection in the window and became as fragile as glass. It was shattered to pieces, a moment later, due to cruel handling.

My heart left a puddle of blood, resentment and tears. A black boot stepped over it and left a clear print behind…Steps of blood went away from the scene, guilt free.

My heart evaporated into cigarette smoke. Then, the remnants were crushed and thrown in the ashtray.

My heart broke the vicious circle and now flies at its free will in a distant galaxy, its light will reach terrestrial observers in a million years, when hearts may not even exist as a concept.

Believe what you will. This is the story of my heart, multifaceted, fragmented, but a story true all the same.

I can take anything now: hugs, punches, anger, mercy, remorse…

Actually I won’t be taking any of it, because I am not at home. I left my heart behind.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

There's a Light

2011-11-08T15:42:00.001+01:00

I like remembering old forgotten songs, their lyrics tucked somewhere at the back of my mind, brought forth accidentally, casually, bringing new light to the dull day. It's November, these are days of slumber, nothing ever happens, and if it does, it happens out there, outside, to other people. It's my season of indifference, of keeping everything down, waiting for the winter to run its course. It's my comfort zone, chocolate and milkshake and plenty of coffee and soothing melodies and only kind memories.

There's a light that never goes out.

I could contemplate and meditate that splendor over and over again. I can find the glimpses of light in the fields of sunflowers, in the ripples of the blue waves of the lake, in the flying roads of the birds in the sky...

Something remains, it follows you wherever you go. One of the advantages of having a pure, sensible soul. The imprints and the impressions remain to give birth to beautiful lines, colors, light, new creations for the eye of the mind to think up and the senses to re-create and all the world to see.

There's a light that never goes out.

You can blow out a candle, you can toss away a flower, you can do random acts of evil with the same arbitrary carelessness of random acts of kindness. We make our choices.

I know I am not going back on some of the decisions I was forced to make.

And there's a light that won't go out, no matter what they say.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

In the eyes of a cat ...

2011-10-24T15:10:00.001+02:00

A moment of innocence

Generated by eons of

Mysterious superiority

Grace, righteous pride…

In the eyes of a cat,

A glimpse of nine worlds,

Flawless beauty of

The fragile and the brave.

You can be possessed,

Obsessed,

The cat will remain the master

Over your soul of a slave.

In the eyes of a cat

Compassion and sadness

Memories of paradise lost…

Nothing is so true

Yet so close to betrayal

But attraction is cruel

And I am lost forever

Possessed by the eyes of a cat.

One look is all it took~

There goes innocence

To the spoils of feline effortless enchantment

Closer and sweeter than most.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

Paper Boats

2011-10-23T18:38:00.001+02:00

Paper boats

Tiny scraps of paper, hopes let loose

Who knows where they’ll end. But this is where they begin.

Among stories of mermaids and enchanted castles and haunted ships

A sea of stories to make the fire burn. It’s always a challenge

See how it folds neatly at the edges, write a wish or not

See how far it goes… A helpless leaf on the waves

But never hopeless.

A candle lit boat for romance

And thousands of tiny pleas for hope

Imagination is conspiring with the sea

The jewels of the marine crown belong to those

Who dare dream. Paper boats reaching far away shores.

Making someone wonder, exclaim in delight

Dreamers recognizing dreamers’ need to

Keep on dreaming.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

From the Diary of a Melancholy Girl

2011-10-20T15:25:00.001+02:00

I carry this weight of sadness.

Dull pain and numb thoughts.

A mountain of sadness.

Crushing my spirit down.

Oh, I can live with the pain .

As big as my mountain

I can learn to bear it and wear it. And wear it out .

And see the other side of the mountain.

Before it sees to it that I give up I am not afraid of feelings.

Allotted to every single one of us.

Mountains of joy and pain. And all rivers and valleys in between.

That’s what being human and feeling is for.

The relief of the soul …except, today, the Devil seems to have decided to lean against my mountain

And rest from his tiring games.

The added weight of diabolic firmness Is simply too much to bear

A tear in the fabric of who I am. Limits are also what being human is about .

And the Devil remains unperturbed.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

Victorious

2011-10-17T09:04:00.001+02:00

A tear for every word I said. A smile for every smile returned

A tear for what could have been right. A smile for helping out the thief in the night

A tear for the stolen heart. A smile for the feeling….

Someone somewhere under the stars sees through my tears and smiles. He cannot see my misty eyes, but he can read my heart.

I cannot see his sleepy eyes but I know he takes good care of my heart.

Tears and smiles play the game of shadows and light. That’s what life and poets try to teach me.

The promise under my pillow keeps me awake until a far echo arrives, trying to reach me, until the stars twinkling in their merciful serenity of centuries. Find the right dream for me, where the mirror reveals your face next to mine. And that’s just the beginning of the dream.

Racing fingers and fast beating hearts replace tears and smiles, with kisses surging over distant shores faster than light, until the race at a slower pace makes time stand still and a galaxy unfolds in the generosity of your embrace.

I’d walk to the end of the world to dream this dream, to join my heart and be complete and to make things whole for all. If I fail, I’ll simply throw my tears and my smiles to the all-seeing stars

And let them do the rest.

In the morning I find my pillow spread out in a dove-like shape of hope. The tears dry out as the smile wins. The scent of victory spreads the world over as the day begins…

And I make my first step to the end of the world.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

The Moment of Truth

2011-10-14T22:04:00.003+02:00

Every beat of my heart captures a memory stolen from the corridors of dreams in my head. Passing it on to the next beat, and the next. The mind cries war. I close my eyes and breathe in, savouring each memory. Bringing forth endless sensations. As I breathe out all my burdens are released into the night . Prisoners of the war of sadness. Somewhere far away a distant constellation spells out the destiny for a new life mapped out in movements in spirals, in expectations to see the light for the first time somewhere inside of me. A candid whisper tells me it’s over I cannot stop my heart from beating, from stealing dreams away. From my mind which withdrew the marching troops of soldier thoughts decided to offer a truce- a breath of calm . A banner of peace unfurls. Emotions and reason united. I drift back into dreamy abandonment in no man’s land.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

The Moment of Truth

2011-10-14T22:04:00.001+02:00

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

More than words can say

2011-10-10T19:46:00.001+02:00

It used to be like this: no power greater than words. I would snuggle in the blanket of serenity, the sense of security they provide, the nonsense of the world that makes sense to me; the stories of old, the ideals that take roots, and open new vistas, the mountains, the seas in between and the same sky above. While lines change, the same light from million years ago, reaches the Earth from far away stars, escaping scrutiny of its present moment…And I think of all the poets, all the teachers, all the dreamers, a silent reminder that belief is everything, beyond words. A letter, a word, a name, a phrase, a memory, a story, a nation, a history, a journey, a creation, a surprise, a miracle, a smile, a tear, an emotion, many nameless emotions, profound admiration, respect, and again, more than words can say…Different languages, same thoughts, wellbeing and happiness and expecting nothing in return. A bridge, an illusion, a dreamer’s dream, confusion, weakness, despair, sadness on the verge of a dangerous fall…In the face of strength, trust, and reason, the fall doesn’t dare happen. Pride over ruled. A comment, a search, an irrational hit and miss, and click and copy and paste, a river of words chiselling out its way, a circle, a spirit of togetherness, magic invisible. A few coincidences, the favour of fortune, subconscious traces to follow, to discover in all directions… new directions, awesome changes for the better. The unknown will always be a step ahead; the past is irrevocably gone, so the extra-temporal firm anchor has to take hold, because the future, that too is uncharted territory for words. Even hope tries to shrink behind four letters, and fear sneaks in too, like a thief in the night. Proceed with caution, and good will And now, throwing the poetic blanket of soft, silk serenity aside, I let the raindrops on my window let me see in turn. This is not a prayer that lasts as long as the candle burns, nor is it a delusion, a poor girl’s hopeless wishful thinking, those days are gone. Affirmed as something between a cynic and a dreamer, a follower of magical realism, I am not afraid of words if words are all I can give. Sure, they are words from the heart. They’re as real as every accepted belief, as marks on the land, every angle inevitably different, yet essentially there, inescapable. A landscape of unique perceptions, dizzy heights and darkened depths, mapped out by the subjective views of a soul. Sometimes it makes sense on the top, sometimes it is a scary abyss…But it IS and it defies words. And this electronic space that poses for the blank page, struggles to contain it, to define it, to delineate it in new terms. Shape and form and technology smooth the edges of raw poetic outburst, for better, for worse. Nonetheless it still IS and proudly defies words.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

Too Late

2011-10-06T21:18:00.001+02:00

Sitting here.

Is it really me? Just because I'm paying attention,

slicing every moment into tiny pieces of awareness,

getting each angle of the truth,

staring at it, until it disappears.

Or is it an illusion?

Am I really, truly there?

Oh, kill the confusion.

We can't all be the same.

Besides: too many beliefs.

Too many dancing priests

and hungry cats

poking eyes out of the statues

of forgotten deities.

And values creeping in with the mist

that we never knew then.

And we aren't about to accept now.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous

Meditation

2011-10-01T09:29:00.001+02:00

Sometimes words cannot say everything; they carry meanings in the combination of letters, but that is simply a spread, a veil for the eyes to try, to read and understand. But to understand...does not mean healing the pain. And more often than not we don’t understand. I like looking at the sky, it gives me a chance to think when I have run out of things to say.

Posted via email from biljana's posterous