Zvonko Taneski – POEMS

* Author of the Month *


I am Macedonian folklore lover
Over there one awaits – even to the grave.

I will wait for you 100 years
And each day shall be June
And you shall watch out
The others to fall asleep
Ahead of us
So that you can tell me
About your own sons, and me to you about my daughters
And about the two Persian cats with big furry tails

I will wait for you 100 years,


Entirely wet on the mattress
Lies the dreamed woman

By the alarm clock

In memoriam

Of cigarettes

Making love after drunken night

We’ll be washing our teeth early on
And we’ll be standing long before the mirror with foam in our mouth
We’ll taste our own embarrassment

You will merely ask me early on where you have put your watch
And I'll ask you
To turn on the radio, speaker of the morning news
That will inform us about the thousands of students
That had left home for the holiday
And she’ll tactically say nothing about our last night in the modern boarding school

Early on we’ll feel
Very abandoned and we’ll come outside
At the noisy streets
Searching through our pockets
While we seek out the lost time
And the valid passenger ticket

The wind will blew empty – handed
As unemployed postman
And joyfully will blow away
Crinkled card with hastily written unnecessary address
And so it will be so uncomfortable
And to rely on
The cold window
In the bus
And to keep silent

Nonetheless we talk a lot now
Just as easy as drinking cups,
So that our words can be perfectly
Mixed up
And we’ll fly somewhere up
With no sense that
Hence we’re creating the new man


To those that for the people
Create beauty,
People usually behave badly.
Each and every revolution eats its children, but firstly
It will well – fed them.
Whoever has luck at cards,
Will lose nothing
Well at least while divorcing.
Even the muses incline more to the authoress than
                To the authors.
Very often we agree
About what will be tomorrow,
And then we disagree
About what it was yesterday.
In moments of weakness
We’ll say:
"I'll eat you out of love" –
And we immediately lay a criminal act at our door.

Tendernesses are being sold
Without any warranty sheet.

Once I were sitting on the same table with a true surrealist

He were telling me
About the voice of the blood
About the reflections of the wind
About the agitated muses
About the stones that burn
At the same time his eyes were closed

I listened to him carefully
Without blinking my eyes
And in spite of the fact that
He made my flesh crawled

The first academic class

You have to start all over again,
From the beginning:

To overvalue the book of knowledge
And to acknowledge:
Hard work is the price
 We must pay for success.


No, my love,
I will not put on a condom.


Dead paramedics
Are sleeping on their toes in the ambulance.


Here one can become a star. In no doubt, post festum.
Several performances, I thought, so that one can create even a sky,
Adorned with stars. Constellation that shimmers.

That’s right: applause from the audience will carry you away,
It will inspire you (expression of time, right?!)
It will raise you up to the pedestal. Then you’ll charge tickets with consumption
(Or wine tasting) in your sky.
It wouldn’t be just whichever event for the others,
You’ll become a privileged individual with mystic character.
Suspicious one for the higher authorities, one of the chosen few.
Because even the sky (honestly) is a mystery,
Unprecedented miracle. Quick escape, filled with risks.
Returning to the stage of our acne.

Before leaving the sky you’ll return the ticket to the smile. 

Revenge lies at the bottom of the wine glass – tit for tat.

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