Gleanings of interior Man

Prelude for cosmic entity in recess of human heart

In the name of Thy, with the name of Nun , with the aim of Kun


…for you writing the EMERALD TABLET of our century my dear NUN I do. For you
The birth is never-ending beginning
The sky speaks in the language of the Lover
Love is up, down, in the front, behind and sleeps in the heart
You are the beginning
Everything exists everything what mind take for granted
The pain is reimbursed with Love
Happiness is illuminated SEX
The lie undresses the truth as a bridegroom undresses the bride
The transformation of milk into blood is the most realistic Alchemy
The poetry blossoms in the heart and speaks as angel as black color on the white
The God speaks to you only by ACT

And then you wrote the love song for the Godling with compassionate look that infrasonic speech speaks freedom bestowed from the highest heaven.


Let this be the entry into the threshold of the entity that passes the Emerald Macadam accompanied with the most refined creatures producing supersensible melodies by their moves, and the perfumes that evaporates by their souls and the pomegranate liquor to obey the thirsty soul, and the torch of their heart that beams directly to your heart and illuminates your conscience till the most pleasant faint ever.

And you are the silent shriek of the Paradise gates heard only by diamond shiny souls that blinds the eyes of curious mortals just as the darkness blinds the eyes of the bat.
And you are the process of making awareness for our century and those to come for those to come and walk silently passing through the lost Kinvat of Zardusht.
And you are the light that cherishes the skins dried of burning Suns of all known and unknown galaxies. Be the hidden bee of the last Sarmouni here. So be it…

…and please be pleased with my pleasure


1. Inner language

Have you ever heard? The voice that once is eternally captured as fly in amber finds difficulties to release and became audible. Have you ever listened that voice that tells you silently to cover your meaning and the truth emerging from it that says you are not God.
Have you ever tried to find the channel to outpour that voice? Which lies dormant waiting to see the hole of hope to understand you?

Yes…it was October 1983 on a circumcision party. The sun was on its zenith just like the summer in the Balkans. With the T-shirt with TITO’s red star and shorts he walked around with others, mixed to finally realize that he is also human. Being out means being subjected to environmental harsh aggressors and his fragility went that far so he could only understand the words of creatures other than human. But with humans oh…them, he would only smile and show that appearance akin to theirs and nothing else.
All kids were happy to be there all of them were playing hide and seek in the midday and while running with the mouth full of sweets of different kinds. It’s celebration of course.

Nun was everyday fed with boiled eggs and salt till he was seven what made him unusual in his appearance and in his behavior. That much care! Oh my God; others were saying repeatedly. But it was a sign in his forehead epidermis looked that cosmic constellation of red spots that that visitor clairvoyant seen them as angelic kiss, as a seal that marked eternally somebody who will suffer to show his real nature with permanent fear that nobody will be able to percept that exposure. Yet he was able to struggle and show his human side which later artist will define him as Angeloid , and pay extra attention to his talk, his walk and his act to be described in the book of remarkable men.

On that very shiny day of October he went out and played so much with other kids that he discovered another type of freedom, but he could not follow the velocity of the motion creatures seen as humans. But this time this freedom had its cost and the cost was the loss of contact with supersensible vibrations. After a circular run around the big garden all kids disappeared and he remained alone felt like flying showing only a barking dog that looked like having a mouse head once and the second as crocodile, changing shapes of his head. He was not afraid but felt happy instead moving slowly stepping carefully losing the ground beneath his feet and felt that he is flying and flying. And while flying there were a plentitude of voices he couldn’t recognize, just like in dreams when you thoroughly lost yourself and forget the reality, which is difficult that to be. Somebody or someone was trying to tell the untold story in the language where the articulation is going beyond frontiers of human understanding and found the medium to outpour the fluid message of eternity. Its not revelation of course, he was to young for such combustion of the fragile organic entity known as human, more precisely a boy with the mark in his forehead.

What was he able to understand was the buzzing in small ears sometimes feeling the pressure marking the ground with the seal of sport shoes produced somewhere in Croatia.
Returning from the episode lasting only few seconds, into the round table full of food to join other kids, with the neon face and shining hairs, with the quivering voice exhausted till the last drop of blood and fat dissolved into water elements to keep the flow of life in previous manner. With the immaculate smile in wide face trying to remembers forever the experience yet with the fear not to tell anyone otherwise he will be crucified with the inexhaustible laugh by parents in the beginning then by the surrounding counterparts humiliating and labeling him as pauper.

The food was excellent, and that was the thing he could only relax with and breathe deep to finally find rest maybe just for a while. What he could understand were the words he muttered unconsciously so ANKA could hear and feel confused.


Even approximately I cannot describe the quiescent pain in my backspin, through which with the century souls of every color passed, while minstrel in the late seasons of life, stupefied with being eternal children which for senility have no idea.

Hasan was that type of creature who knew about the emptied cups and the way how do they fill them, but somehow he lacked the ability to color liquors standing there with the readiness to cascade in… only sometimes he was so convicted in the veracity of his words which matched to the facts so he openly said, without turning laterally to see people who thinks different and sees talking for themselves in superlative.

Looking realistically his perception of these conscious moments as his own and his moment was driven by completely somebody else.
His already known outcry I’M PART OF THE SAME GRAVITY BUT MY PEAK KISSES THE WHITE CLOUDS, once upon a time was the most expressive shriek and continuously repeated blasphemy for them was queued as another indescribable blasphemy, and now as the sound of the church bells which sounds without voice.

2. Interview with NUN



1. Unknown
Are you human?

Well, people often do not answer to such questions. This is not such bizarre question for something which is that much obvious. It appears accidentally/deliberately by strong cosmic hand to have human shape in order to avoid fear from normal mortals so they can recognize as life, as something known, not as unknown, as death, as fear from death consequently by ignorance. You might see, how flowers are opening and smiling, how children smiles when they see something angelic in the front

2. Unknown
Are you afraid of being mixed with people of different levels?

No, definitely. This diversity makes me sing my octaves silently so I can play my invisible dance thoroughly, undisturbed by the psychology of mass after four of them. There’s a fear of people being alone, therefore they collect into plankton on the surface, they join the forces, confronting inner forces but strong to fight common external aggressors and enemies.

3. Unknown
What do you do in everyday life?

Life is the most mysterious phenomenon that gurgle every second, micro-second. It’s more mysterious than death. It’s partially known so rapidly running yet undiscovered. In my everyday life I only LOVE. A day without love is dry, no flavor, no joy, no happiness, no longing, no suffer. To suffer for love is the highest love. This is best done by writing. I share writing, like sharing water in the desert and you know what does this mean.

4. Unknown
How do you manifest your Love?


I do it with entire being, with my soul, with my seven bodies, with organic hands, feet, tongue. With writing, painting, calligraphy, with lectures if we speak materialistically etc

5. Unknown
Your poems are so simple and yet so mystic. How do you find balance in all this disorder, better said in this misbalance?

Poetry has lost its place in human life, but the poets are those who keep the language alive, those who create new words to express their feelings AS WE DO NOT HAVE TERRESTRIAL VOCABULARY FOR CELESTIAL PHENOMENON, their discoveries in a spiritual realm, and those who unveil the secrets of the hidden worlds. There’s no bigger mystery than in simplicity. That is the core. Simplicity is like death. Life is complex, therefore human brain is not able to absorb life, therefore they release their valves so the life can outpour, therefore in life the make poetry hard, complex, overloaded with unacceptable verses. Poetry must have the purity of soul in order to achieve its goal otherwise it will become life. Poetry is beyond life, is after-life phenomenon. Only like this it becomes mystic, since humans forgot the beauty of eternity, from where they came from. You can not apply poetry as tool to solve daily problems, you can not make money transfer in the bank, but you can transfer cosmic credits from soul to soul, from heaven to earth. And heaven is in us. We have to only open our bud and release the fragrance, to percept the Ozone of our inner heaven and see the stars that are shinning permanently blinking showing their presence perpetually.

As for the balance its very important, you might hear the story of Buddha and the strings of the lute, if you stretch to much they will break, if you don’t stretch enough you’ll not have a nice tune, then the story of Muhammed teaching the golden middle way known as Al Wassat al Tariq, then the balance in the sculptures of Constandin Brancusi etc.
The balance is very important not to loose the contact with the reader in literature or audience in music etc. Something is as simple for somebody as he is in that cognitive level, something for the same is not understandable, but leave it there he will return as the heart is always open as ocean so he can find his pearls next time on his return. He has to only dive in the nekton or beneath of the ocean, he out to be eel going back and forth, from rivers to ocean. Extreme oppression causes death just as extreme freedom causes death, and as people wants to live they must be well balanced.

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Thursday, March 17, 2011 - 12:21

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