TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

Change out of your ill-intentioned criticism
like you change out of wet clothes
Dispose of quasi-intellectual swordplay
imagine it’s hazardous waste you dump in someone else’s seas
if it’s gonna make it easier
Get rid of your flamboyant confidence, and
highly combustible speeches
like you’d get rid of lonesome socks and expired meds
forget them like promises and mom’s chocolate cake recipes
you’ll never keep
Stop hurling armies against armies
Do away with your racism and xenophobia
your country continues to be built on the backs of immigrants
Don’t kill hope, let
Lady Liberty do her job
Throw away your harmful kicks, and godlike omnipotence
like yesterday’s papers
like useless wire hangers for shirts you never liked
like worn out shoes however much you like them
Toss your bomb threats
like you’d toss old VHS tapes and business cards into the trash
don’t you know you’re disposable too
your expiration date is blinking No longer safe to consume
Throw them out like broken toys
while you still can
your children have children
Miss a chance to make a fortune
Let others pursue happiness for a change


 

via TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN ~ BOJANA STOJCIC — MORALITY PARK

JOURNAL OF A MOM – UNBIASED LAWLESSNESS

Outdoor play areas for kids, when large and well designed, are pretty cool places when you think of it because children can jump and hide, shout and make a mess there without being prevented or criticized, because they are unbound and can unrestrictedly learn and flourish. But, there’s more to this than meets the eye.

Watching my son play in the playground made me realize his miniature world is nothing but a society as we know it, with its group of small people though sharing common territory, interacting and identifying with one another. In the world of adults, economic hardship creates feelings of powerlessness that more often than not draw people toward dominant and decisive (however morally questionable) leaders, instead of respected and knowledgeable ones. Although some parents fail to see or hate to admit it, our and their worlds are alike, both populated by a wide variety of individuals: superior and inferior, generous and selfish, shy, modest, undemanding and sharing, creative and original, self-proclaimed gods, populist, egotistic, authoritarian leaders, common people, followers, servants (obeying only those of the upper echelon), those who play by the book or by ear, those who enjoy being in the spotlight, those who like to keep up with the Joneses or tend to keep a low profile.

Furthermore, the family with children is a form of government in which all power is vested in a single ruler, or two sovereigns, depending on whether it consists of two bad cops or a good and a bad one. Be that as it may, their authority is supreme and unquestionable so there’s no point in wondering if we are absolutists (with little patience for shades of grey), always telling our kids what to do and what not to, who to listen to, what and how to eat, when to talk, what to say, where to go and where to poo. I know the answer already.

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On the other hand, it’s hard to be too giving and forgiving for many reasons. I like that my kid is bold, decisive, strong-willed and determined. B. generally likes company and it doesn’t mean that when he shows up, all present better disappear. However, his über-confident, overdramatic behavior and forceful personality can at times be quite embarrassing. He can be pretty assertive and assaultive on the swings or the seesaw or the slide for that matter where (I thought) rules of democracy abide. One thing I’ve learned in the meantime is there’s no government by the people where kids play. Consequently, just as we teach our little ones to take turns in conversation, we also need to show them how to share and how the whole turn-taking thing in the playground works. Sadly, some don’t since they obviously don’t believe in a fairer, more egalitarian society and, as someone has to, it’ll often be you if you want pushing down the slide, pulling hair, biting, and kicking to stop, whether it’s done to or by your kid. It’s not always easy to reach a truce, let alone a genuine one, but let’s say I’m more or less satisfied when it becomes bearable for all concerned or the ceasefire holds at least a few minutes…or seconds, to be more precise.

Luckily for small kids, they don’t know yet that language barriers can separate societies. By contrast, this microcosm of society is not restricted by them, among other things, because of how understanding, perceptive and compassionate children may be. They communicate on a whole different level than adults, verbalizing their displeasure both when it comes to them and their playmates, regardless of whether they know each other or have just met. Not only do they express deep awareness of the suffering of another but they also wish to relieve it, wiping their tears, hugging them or asking them or their parents what’s wrong.

Another good thing I’ve noticed spending plenty of time in the sandpit with toddles is the presence and acceptance of all the colors of the rainbow, that is an utter and complete absence of racism and xenophobia in their world. While there’s possessiveness and envy of another kid’s bigger and shinier toy, there’s no discrimination based on ethnicity, nationality, religion, appearance or disability. The society has yet to teach them hatred and prejudice, giving rise to inequality and aggression. Once they know how to properly inflict harm on each other, social integration, oftentimes achieved without a dialogue or the will to maintain peaceful social relations, will be complete. As opposed to sport and play areas, foul play is not always sanctioned in real life. Not that I blame the players. When the referee doesn’t send you off with a red card (preferably in the first half), you go on playing, with or without rules.

TILL DEATH DO US PART

Inhabitants of the planet Earth
linger in the trance-like state induced by moving screens
transfixed by the beauty of the unnatural
The carousel ride on kaleidoscopic wooden horses
imaginary gears simulate galloping
Occupants of the unlimited garden space with an ability
to choose a picture-perfect lawn shape
infinite landscaping ideas
Green cards and permanent residence status guaranteed
No fear of overpopulation

Millions are held hostage by technological arsenals
voluntarily shackled to ensure ongoing enslavement
Servants bound to service from here to eternity
Escape attempts from sugar and cotton plantations unknown

Attention fixated
Awareness of pain altered
Perception reshaped and distorted
Reality suspended
Conscious mind non-existent. Non-presence is
everything and everything else

Emotions are autonomic reflexes
Heart rate controlled. Memories restrained.
Accumulated experience where habits and responses to the world
dwell kept within bounds

A perennial state of hypnotic relaxation
and unconditional love, deeply planted and regularly
watered. Transcendent. Lost in you, my digital realm. Forever and ever.
Don’t want to be found.
Writing a story together. Contemporary role plays and
use of advanced dildos for
fans of BDSM and a wide spectrum
of kinky sex their toys offer.
Oh Wendy!
You shine with every word you utter.
You make me swoon when you smile at me like that.
Trapped in a labyrinth of passion.

Craving touch, they
spread apps open
fingers move in a circular motion, beyorny
a moan escapes them
put your finger in the middle of the screen
I feel you move to meet my fingers
slow curling hands
slide up and down, in and out, back in
deep and hard. Fast. Faster.
No release needed. Enjoying a permanent erection.

A heavy crosspiece is fastened over their necks
attached to the plough they are pulling
the yoke it is
they are reluctant to loosen
The world is sold into high-tech slavery.
No movement for its abolition on the horizon.


 

via TILL DEATH DO US PART ~ BOJANA STOJCIC — MORALITY PARK

ANTONYM

I am a word that is opposite
in meaning to another
my content is clearly stated on the bottle

I am of a contrary kind
the other of a contrasted pair
I am no simile

I am against stop at the traffic light
anti bathroom labels man and woman
(how about human?)

I don’t want to be in contrast with you
make me lose my balance
let me be your synonym

THE HOUSE I LIVE IN

my desk is crammed with extinct languages
without living descendants in sight
my ceiling heavy with gruesome attacks by serial killers
survived against all odds
my garbage can is a handful of banalities
my plate full of wars fought in vain
my fridge fraught with tears torn on the barbed wire
carefully stored and deep frozen for future use

my lamp shows me life in the spotlight
though it hates being left alone with my thoughts of tomorrow
swallowed by the sun
my coffee cup gives me a sardonic smile every time I tell it
I want him to love me in person, not in the abstract
my doors scream false pride and irregular accomplishments
my baggage begs me to reconsider
my mouse my only ally, deleting geography

my floor is a liquid mixture of
visceral bleeding and spilled brains
my mirrors aching mourners at the funeral
(blessed are not those who mourn)
the insistent audience demanding
encore after encore
after…
(sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t stay to the end of the movie)

my state of being is
a series of running and passing plays
my state of mind elsewhere
my head, a concert with fireworks timed
to the music of untuned percussion instruments
an extended clattering of pans and cutlery in the kitchen
my happiness beyond compare –
the medieval conception of justice


 

via THE HOUSE I LIVE IN ~ BOJANA STOJCIC — MORALITY PARK

CORRIDA DE TOROS

An adrenaline-seeking town dressed in red and white
runs down the cobblestone streets like a hungry river

in the fierce heat of the Mediterranean sun
enraged bulls show no mercy

to those who slip and fall
who slip and fall

a ruthless wolf pack in San Fermin
with days passing between feedings

locates, singles out
and stalks

its prey from a distance
staying out of sight until it’s ready to attack

not a deer, not a moose
not a bison, not an elk

but a beaver, feeble and sightless,
breathing the air of placid sufficiency

opportunistic feeders, unable to retain saliva
within their mouths, circle and test before

bringing the victim to the ground
the conquest of paradise

the animal does not die of blood loss or shock
but of shame


 

via CORRIDA DE TOROS ~ BOJANA STOJCIC — MORALITY PARK

WOMEN OF THE SEA

Every year films take place on the French Riviera
Hookers stroll in and out of the big hotels
Lo sceicco bianco
jerks off in the shower
picturing putes de luxes, well-dressed and well-mannered bombshells
for Arabs in white when the Sun goes out.
Smiling contentedly
groping, growing, probing, rolling, exploding into
girls who keep their mouths shut and
legs open.

It’s been going on for 60 years, movies
under the glare of the spotlights and
sex in the world with
polarized sunglasses, protection against prying eyes
denying the redundant stare
hand in hand in Cannes. Yacht girls on the alluring Cote d’Azur
a balmy playground of the rich and famous.
Sun-soaked sophistication.
The chain clanks as the anchor falls through the water
cars pull into the bay to unload fresh meat
classy mesdemoiselles like ships make headway against the gale
a gateway to success.
Professional prostitutes, B- and C-list Hollywood actresses, beauty
queens and whimsical models dreaming
of a world at peace when needed
kept close at hand, nude and half nude,
always in the mood despite
remarks made in bad taste.
Combination boilers providing hot water on demand.

Winemakers babble about the wine production. The murmur of the waves.
Grape selection, cultivation, pressing, aging, bottling, tasting
wine and girls with perky breasts who
smile at men willing to spend a fortune to relish
the bubbly taste of diamonds,
Armand de Brignac and Dom Pérignon
Prisoners finally taste freedom. A sparkling taste of
attainability.

Orphaned children.
Street children sleeping rough.
Malnourished mothers giving birth to underweight babies on TV.
Scraggy children choke themselves awake on flies
swarming inside their mouths. Squawking birds fly low.
Switch it off, the craggy voice is heard
his words slurred
tucking into lobster stew
harbored in the big blue.

White Pearl Caviar, white truffles,
white moose cheese made in limited quantities for
men in white.
The fish bite every day. Good fortune.

A fragrant pine-clad coastline at sundown
dreaming in colors.
A recurrent dream about falling from great heights.
A wife dreams of going back to school.
A single mom of a two-year old dreams of going to America
daycare and neckwear at the back of her mind.
A girl leans against the headboard
fantasizing about a life outside of rent hotel rooms.
A dream vacation, a dream car, a dream house in the country
A dream hub and a couple of rugrats
A golden retriever in the basket
A recurring dream about happily ever after.

A gift for elderly men’s eyes they were
the most beautiful mermaids with a rare talent for
grinning, loving and
making good use of their talents.
Nature gifted them with a fine body
and a strong stomach, so they thought,
a little piece of heaven bought and
brought sealed in an envelope
their aching legs gave way, and they almost fell.
50 grand worth happiness.


 

via WOMEN OF THE SEA ~ BOJANA STOJCIC — MORALITY PARK