AMARISHNA, poem by Loreta Kovacic

Dedicated to Philip Glass, composer.

 

Alah-halLah, Buddha, Lord and Mother Mary

I prepare my soul and body blind

to dedicate to you my little prayer:

Ready, set, clear, OOOOMMMMM ready, set, clear, OOOOMMMMM>

 

Amarishna krishna Rama Vishna

Abudabi Ludjak neki Radza

Born on 3 kings day in Medjugorje

Looked up and saw high above these plains

kako kisne brada Rama Visne.

Djelem djelem in a dimple's Temple

hide your pimple, Sheik, Baby Shake.

 

BABY CALL ME RAMA AMARISHNA

YOU CAN CALL ME RAMA AMARISHNA.

Ready, set, clear OOOMMM< Ready, set, clear OOOMMM>

 

Rabi Ben, Babba Karl Iman, grew up in Iran

moved to Iraque, then to Afganistaaaan,

became the best known incognito politician,

who singlehandedly, like Bukowski,

in off the beaten path, ski lift upper class,

high in snow covered Swiss Alps,

while KGB and CIA were hiding in the bush,

removed all the evil dictators of tomorrow and today

just one superhuman against the evil world

Alibaba guru Ben Iman, Von Chilladeen,

Gavrilo Princip revolt in his blood stream,

just like my own during Milosevic regime,

in my native Ex Yugoslavia, doom's deem, 

 

BABY CALL ME RAMA AMARISHNA

YOU CAN CALL ME RAMA AMARISHNA.

 

 

 

amarishna yoddle girl