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- Gender:Male
- Age:45
- Ethnicity:Caucasian (white)
- Occupation:Professional services (medical, legal, etc.)
- Country:MONTENEGRO
- City :risan
- District:boka kotorska
- Hometown(s):berane
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Tuesday,Mar 10 2009, 03:05:38 PMlimundo
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Wednesday,Dec 17 2008, 07:59:14 PMtyffranskyj
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Kao da nikad nijesam bio u Zaostru. Znate valjda gje je Zaostro,to malo selo pod Tifranom.Selo leleka i odjeka,crnih marama i naricanja.A opet tako čedno,tako milo,tako moje... ...
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Forum Topics
| Subject | Replies | Score | Time |
|---|---|---|---|
| มีทุกข์ในดวงกาย | 3 |  |
3/17/2009 |
Guestbook
12/22/2008 11:28 AMSeasons Greetings from the Islands of the Philippines
terrie
52, Philippines
Get One At - Friendster Comments
12/17/2008 6:40 PMuh
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
Play slideshow Save all photos Want to save all these photos at once? Learn how
Online pictures are available for 30 days
From: tyffransky
Thank god he stuck his tongue out.
When I was twelve I was in danger
of taking my body seriously.
I thought the ache in my nipple was priceless.
I thought I should stay very still
and compare it to a button,
a china saucer,
a flash in a car side-mirror,
so I could name the ache either big or little,
then keep it forever. He blew no one a kiss,
then turned into a maw.
After I saw him, when a wish moved in my pants.
I nurtured it. I stalked around my room
kicking my feet up just like him, making
a big deal of my lips. I was my own big boy.
I wouldn't admit it then,
but be definitely cocks his hip
as if he is his own little girl.
2
People ask me--I make up interviews
while I brush my teeth--"So, what do you remember best
about your childhood?" I say
mostly the drive toward Chicago.
Feeling as if I'm being slowly pressed against the skyline.
Hoping to break a window.
Mostly quick handfuls of boys' skin.
Summer twilights that took forever to get rid of.
Mostly Mick Jagger.
3
How do I explain my hungry stare?
My Friday night spent changing clothes?
My love for travel? I rewind the way he says "now"
with so much roof of the mouth.
I rewind until I get a clear image of myself:
I'm telling the joke he taught me
about my body. My mouth is stretched open
so I don't laugh. My hands are pretending
to have just discovered my own face.
My name is written out in metal studs
across my little pink jumper.
I've got a mirror and a good idea
of the way I want my face to look.
When I glance sideways my smile should twitch
as if a funny picture of me is taped up
inside the corner of my eye.
A picture where my hair is combed over each shoulder,
my breasts are well-supported, and my teeth barely show.
A picture where I'm trying hard to say "beautiful."
He always says "This is my skinny rib cage,
my one, two chest hairs."
That's all he ever says.
Think of a bird with no feathers
or think of a hundred lips bruising every inch of his skin.
There are no pictures of him hoping
he said the right thing.
Online pictures are available for 30 days
From: tyffransky
Thank god he stuck his tongue out.
When I was twelve I was in danger
of taking my body seriously.
I thought the ache in my nipple was priceless.
I thought I should stay very still
and compare it to a button,
a china saucer,
a flash in a car side-mirror,
so I could name the ache either big or little,
then keep it forever. He blew no one a kiss,
then turned into a maw.
After I saw him, when a wish moved in my pants.
I nurtured it. I stalked around my room
kicking my feet up just like him, making
a big deal of my lips. I was my own big boy.
I wouldn't admit it then,
but be definitely cocks his hip
as if he is his own little girl.
2
People ask me--I make up interviews
while I brush my teeth--"So, what do you remember best
about your childhood?" I say
mostly the drive toward Chicago.
Feeling as if I'm being slowly pressed against the skyline.
Hoping to break a window.
Mostly quick handfuls of boys' skin.
Summer twilights that took forever to get rid of.
Mostly Mick Jagger.
3
How do I explain my hungry stare?
My Friday night spent changing clothes?
My love for travel? I rewind the way he says "now"
with so much roof of the mouth.
I rewind until I get a clear image of myself:
I'm telling the joke he taught me
about my body. My mouth is stretched open
so I don't laugh. My hands are pretending
to have just discovered my own face.
My name is written out in metal studs
across my little pink jumper.
I've got a mirror and a good idea
of the way I want my face to look.
When I glance sideways my smile should twitch
as if a funny picture of me is taped up
inside the corner of my eye.
A picture where my hair is combed over each shoulder,
my breasts are well-supported, and my teeth barely show.
A picture where I'm trying hard to say "beautiful."
He always says "This is my skinny rib cage,
my one, two chest hairs."
That's all he ever says.
Think of a bird with no feathers
or think of a hundred lips bruising every inch of his skin.
There are no pictures of him hoping
he said the right thing.
12/17/2008 6:44 PMRe: hi
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
Dievo dovis
Laiku atsigręžti į tą vargšę šeimą.
Jai ranką ištiesti.
Duonos kąsnį paduoti.
Drabužėliu sušelpti.
Kad įsčios išsaugotų,
Kas Dievulio jai duota.
Kūdikėliui užgimstant, kūdikėlį auginant
Vien ramybės, paguodos suteikim,
Nes šventajam Rašte parašyta:
"Gausinga šeima - brangus Dievo dovis,
Vaikais atsilygina Dievas už vargą".
O vaikai - tai tautos pratęsimas.
Mūs tautos - Lietuvėlės mažos.
Laiku atsigręžti į tą vargšę šeimą.
Jai ranką ištiesti.
Duonos kąsnį paduoti.
Drabužėliu sušelpti.
Kad įsčios išsaugotų,
Kas Dievulio jai duota.
Kūdikėliui užgimstant, kūdikėlį auginant
Vien ramybės, paguodos suteikim,
Nes šventajam Rašte parašyta:
"Gausinga šeima - brangus Dievo dovis,
Vaikais atsilygina Dievas už vargą".
O vaikai - tai tautos pratęsimas.
Mūs tautos - Lietuvėlės mažos.
12/17/2008 6:43 PMRe: hi
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes ... ¡Yo no sé!
Golpes como del odio de Dios; como si ante ellos,
la resaca de todo lo sufrido
se empozara en el alma... Yo no sé!
Son pocos; pero son... Abren zanjas obscuras
en el rostro más fiero y en el lomo más fuerte.
Serán talvez los potros de bárbaros atilas;
o los heraldos negros que nos manda la Muerte.
Son las caídas hondas de los Cristos del alma,
de alguna fe adorable que el Destino blasfema.
Esos golpes sangrientos son las crepitaciones
de algún pan que en la puerta del horno se nos quema.
Y el hombre... Pobre... pobre! Vuelve los ojos, como
cuando por sobre el hombro nos llama una palmada;
vuelve los ojos locos, y todo lo vivido
se empoza, como charco de culpa, en la mirada.
Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes... Yo no sé!
Golpes como del odio de Dios; como si ante ellos,
la resaca de todo lo sufrido
se empozara en el alma... Yo no sé!
Son pocos; pero son... Abren zanjas obscuras
en el rostro más fiero y en el lomo más fuerte.
Serán talvez los potros de bárbaros atilas;
o los heraldos negros que nos manda la Muerte.
Son las caídas hondas de los Cristos del alma,
de alguna fe adorable que el Destino blasfema.
Esos golpes sangrientos son las crepitaciones
de algún pan que en la puerta del horno se nos quema.
Y el hombre... Pobre... pobre! Vuelve los ojos, como
cuando por sobre el hombro nos llama una palmada;
vuelve los ojos locos, y todo lo vivido
se empoza, como charco de culpa, en la mirada.
Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes... Yo no sé!
12/17/2008 6:42 PMRe: hi
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
๏ คืออนรรฆจินดาค่าอะคร้าว
คือฝันร่วงรุ้งพราวจากหาวเหิน
คือโสมส่องมรรคาแจ้งแสงสีเงิน
คือเชื้อเชิญจากอุ้งหัตถ์เปี่ยมอัชฌา๚
๏ คือจารีตวิศิษฏ์ล้ำธำรงด้าว
คือพิตรพราววาวแพรวแก้วเลขา
เอกลักษณ์วัจนะอารยา
เชิดบูชาร้อยกรองไทยท่ามใจเรา๚
๏ เสน่ห์กานท์หวานหวามสิ้นสามภพ
บรรจุไว้ในผอบฉะอ้อนเฉลา
เป็นสารทิพย์บำรุงขันธ์ปัญญาเชาวน์
เสพจักเยาว์ชีพสราญไปนานปี
๏ จึงกวีไม่โรยแล้งแหล่งสยาม
ด้วยมีความรักกลอนกานท์บันดาลฝัน
ฤทธิ์หนุนเนื่องดวงมานจุดฌานครัน
กี่กัปกัลป์ก็ไม่แล้งแรงกวี๚ะ๛
คือฝันร่วงรุ้งพราวจากหาวเหิน
คือโสมส่องมรรคาแจ้งแสงสีเงิน
คือเชื้อเชิญจากอุ้งหัตถ์เปี่ยมอัชฌา๚
๏ คือจารีตวิศิษฏ์ล้ำธำรงด้าว
คือพิตรพราววาวแพรวแก้วเลขา
เอกลักษณ์วัจนะอารยา
เชิดบูชาร้อยกรองไทยท่ามใจเรา๚
๏ เสน่ห์กานท์หวานหวามสิ้นสามภพ
บรรจุไว้ในผอบฉะอ้อนเฉลา
เป็นสารทิพย์บำรุงขันธ์ปัญญาเชาวน์
เสพจักเยาว์ชีพสราญไปนานปี
๏ จึงกวีไม่โรยแล้งแหล่งสยาม
ด้วยมีความรักกลอนกานท์บันดาลฝัน
ฤทธิ์หนุนเนื่องดวงมานจุดฌานครัน
กี่กัปกัลป์ก็ไม่แล้งแรงกวี๚ะ๛
12/17/2008 6:39 PMRe: hi
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
Play slideshow Save all photos Want to save all these photos at once? Learn how
Online pictures are available for 30 days
From: tyffransky
Sent: Sunday, November 30, 2008 4:30 AM
To: wendyrivera86@hotmail.com
Thank god he stuck his tongue out.
When I was twelve I was in danger
of taking my body seriously.
I thought the ache in my nipple was priceless.
I thought I should stay very still
and compare it to a button,
a china saucer,
a flash in a car side-mirror,
so I could name the ache either big or little,
then keep it forever. He blew no one a kiss,
then turned into a maw.
After I saw him, when a wish moved in my pants.
I nurtured it. I stalked around my room
kicking my feet up just like him, making
a big deal of my lips. I was my own big boy.
I wouldn't admit it then,
but be definitely cocks his hip
as if he is his own little girl.
2
People ask me--I make up interviews
while I brush my teeth--"So, what do you remember best
about your childhood?" I say
mostly the drive toward Chicago.
Feeling as if I'm being slowly pressed against the skyline.
Hoping to break a window.
Mostly quick handfuls of boys' skin.
Summer twilights that took forever to get rid of.
Mostly Mick Jagger.
3
How do I explain my hungry stare?
My Friday night spent changing clothes?
My love for travel? I rewind the way he says "now"
with so much roof of the mouth.
I rewind until I get a clear image of myself:
I'm telling the joke he taught me
about my body. My mouth is stretched open
so I don't laugh. My hands are pretending
to have just discovered my own face.
My name is written out in metal studs
across my little pink jumper.
I've got a mirror and a good idea
of the way I want my face to look.
When I glance sideways my smile should twitch
as if a funny picture of me is taped up
inside the corner of my eye.
A picture where my hair is combed over each shoulder,
my breasts are well-supported, and my teeth barely show.
A picture where I'm trying hard to say "beautiful."
He always says "This is my skinny rib cage,
my one, two chest hairs."
That's all he ever says.
Think of a bird with no feathers
or think of a hundred lips bruising every inch of his skin.
There are no pictures of him hoping
he said the right thing. Get Windows Live Mail to create your own photo e-mails
Online pictures are available for 30 days
From: tyffransky
Sent: Sunday, November 30, 2008 4:30 AM
To: wendyrivera86@hotmail.com
Thank god he stuck his tongue out.
When I was twelve I was in danger
of taking my body seriously.
I thought the ache in my nipple was priceless.
I thought I should stay very still
and compare it to a button,
a china saucer,
a flash in a car side-mirror,
so I could name the ache either big or little,
then keep it forever. He blew no one a kiss,
then turned into a maw.
After I saw him, when a wish moved in my pants.
I nurtured it. I stalked around my room
kicking my feet up just like him, making
a big deal of my lips. I was my own big boy.
I wouldn't admit it then,
but be definitely cocks his hip
as if he is his own little girl.
2
People ask me--I make up interviews
while I brush my teeth--"So, what do you remember best
about your childhood?" I say
mostly the drive toward Chicago.
Feeling as if I'm being slowly pressed against the skyline.
Hoping to break a window.
Mostly quick handfuls of boys' skin.
Summer twilights that took forever to get rid of.
Mostly Mick Jagger.
3
How do I explain my hungry stare?
My Friday night spent changing clothes?
My love for travel? I rewind the way he says "now"
with so much roof of the mouth.
I rewind until I get a clear image of myself:
I'm telling the joke he taught me
about my body. My mouth is stretched open
so I don't laugh. My hands are pretending
to have just discovered my own face.
My name is written out in metal studs
across my little pink jumper.
I've got a mirror and a good idea
of the way I want my face to look.
When I glance sideways my smile should twitch
as if a funny picture of me is taped up
inside the corner of my eye.
A picture where my hair is combed over each shoulder,
my breasts are well-supported, and my teeth barely show.
A picture where I'm trying hard to say "beautiful."
He always says "This is my skinny rib cage,
my one, two chest hairs."
That's all he ever says.
Think of a bird with no feathers
or think of a hundred lips bruising every inch of his skin.
There are no pictures of him hoping
he said the right thing. Get Windows Live Mail to create your own photo e-mails
12/16/2008 4:50 AMRe: hi
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
طرابلس/أوج
تلقى الأخ قائد الثورة مزيد التهاني بعيد الأضحى المبارك من رؤساء الدول الشقيقة والصديقة والفاعليات الدينية ومن رؤساء البعثات السياسية المعتمدين لدى الجماهيرية العظمى.
وقد ورد مزيد التهاني من كل من:-
- الرئيس"عبدالعزيز بوتفليقة" رئيس الجمهورية الجزائرية.
- الرئيس "علي عبدالله صالح" رئيس الجمهورية اليمانية.
- الرئيس " محمود أحمدي نجاد" رئيس جمهورية إيران.
- الرئيس "فور أياديما نياسنغبي" رئيس جمهورية التوغو.
كما ورد مزيد التهاني إلى الأخ القائد بهذا العيد من:-
تلقى الأخ قائد الثورة مزيد التهاني بعيد الأضحى المبارك من رؤساء الدول الشقيقة والصديقة والفاعليات الدينية ومن رؤساء البعثات السياسية المعتمدين لدى الجماهيرية العظمى.
وقد ورد مزيد التهاني من كل من:-
- الرئيس"عبدالعزيز بوتفليقة" رئيس الجمهورية الجزائرية.
- الرئيس "علي عبدالله صالح" رئيس الجمهورية اليمانية.
- الرئيس " محمود أحمدي نجاد" رئيس جمهورية إيران.
- الرئيس "فور أياديما نياسنغبي" رئيس جمهورية التوغو.
كما ورد مزيد التهاني إلى الأخ القائد بهذا العيد من:-
12/15/2008 9:39 PMoops
goran
45, risan, MONTENEGRO
Abraça-me
nesse momento impessoal
de sua leitura
e
no mesmo ritmo das palavras criadas
o
amplo e incoberto
revela-se
saber que somos semelhantes
e
ao sentirmos essa semelhança
mantemos o destino que é
desconhecido
assim entregue
talvez satisfação ou melancolia
pânico ou suavidade
ao lê-lo
onde não importa
se foi eu
ou você
esse criador!
nesse momento impessoal
de sua leitura
e
no mesmo ritmo das palavras criadas
o
amplo e incoberto
revela-se
saber que somos semelhantes
e
ao sentirmos essa semelhança
mantemos o destino que é
desconhecido
assim entregue
talvez satisfação ou melancolia
pânico ou suavidade
ao lê-lo
onde não importa
se foi eu
ou você
esse criador!
7/26/2009 12:42 AMhello
come and take a look on my profile,
look at my pictures
and then tell me about you wanna be friends
i hope you like
but plz take a look fist and then tell me
i wish you a day full of enjoy and happess
love
M