sitting at a corner cafe
watching my baby sleeping and
sipping my espresso stretto and
playing with my new gadget toy
throwing pieces of my mind on
the touch screen and all around
the October sun is like the snow
covering ugliness
makes me see only beautiful things
the music from the bar is crappy and
youngsters at the terrace are dull
but I feel so happy
just looking at my baby's face
feeling the sun chasing darkness away
it was a good idea, this walk on Sunday afternoon
we should do this every day
we should tell everyone in the world
this is great, this is cool
I know, the Monday alarm will knock in my head
already in less than sixteen hours
will make me set aside this warm and
simple human moment
to struggle with minutes and seconds
in the machine of labor
yet, it’s in about 16 hours
way enough time for me to tell the world
that the October sun is a great thing and
the world is more or less fine and
one shouldn’t care much, at least at this moment
while the sun is still up in the sky and
there is still a sip of coffee in my cup
Xhabir Deralla
from "malfunction" (copyright 2012)
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Thursday, January 9, 2014
The Wannabe
A grey shadow in the foggy twilight
the corporal in a muddy old overcoat
cigarette butt between his yellow teeth
shaking on the cold platform
in a village far away from the main line
a frustrated subject
pathetic and troubled
yet...
a creature bloodthirsty
with nails broken and ill
still sharp enough to cause pain
if only gets on the wagon of power for a moment
a brief moment of glory
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
Speak Up Manifesto (Vol.1)
Visual artists, writers, poets, musicians, filmmakers,
actors, performers and artists of all kinds,
creative people, recognized and unrecognized,
those who create artworks and those who try,
those who use mainstream tools and genres,
and those using unconventional tools, materials and
media,
those who use air, water, earth and fire,
those who use walls and concrete, as well as those who
use canvas, paper or camera,
the time has come!
Speak Up!
Artists, creative people, journalists and activist of all
colors, genres, orientations and styles; multimedia artists, painters,
filmmakers, DJs, poets, tattoo artists, actors, photographers, performers,
musicians, singers, amateurs, professionals, graffiti artists, dancers,
slammers, designers, writers…
You all are messengers of freedom. Speak Up!
Artists are those who create the mirror of the world, the
ultimate witnesses of events. Artists are the consciousness of the society and
shape the soul of cultures and civilizations.
Art is the spiritual, instinctive and
intellectual mirror of the world. Time is a chaotic and senseless string of
events until art recreates it in a meaningful story. Art awards life with
meaning; gives contents to the unbearable absurdity of being.
Existence is unbearable emptiness, art
is a fact.
Future is a vision and vision is art.
From the moment when the first humans
have left a trace of their palm on the cave wall to the present day, making the
first act of art ever known – art is the creative way of rethinking the world.
Today, we stand before the biggest
challenge for human kind – making human rights and freedoms reality. And, we
place our palm on the face of the world and demand rights now and for each and
every one of us.
Express yourself! Do not hesitate, do not be afraid.
You are the one to rise and develop, leave traces of
freedom and courage behind.
You are never alone. Your thoughts and your deeds, your
creations are your companions. You don’t need recognition from those who commit
crimes against beauty, those who understand nothing but the power of money and
violence. Confront them with creativity and human values.
This is a call for solidarity among those who bring
changes to the world for just being what they are.
This is a call for the liberation of thoughts.
Call for Action.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
another day
another day
to shake the tree
to hold your tears back
to make someone smile
to pretend you're OK
another day
to believe in dreams
to stand up for others
to be honest and ridiculed
another day
to dig into diamond caves
to find treasures worthless to others
to seek what cannot be found
to find what others don’t even try
another day
to look at the fading humanity
to lower your guard
to fight arrogance
to conquer yourself
another day
to stare at the grey face of aging
to cherish life and fear death
to sense the pulse of the loved ones
to miss those who are gone

HEAR THE SOUND OF IT HERE
***
Lyrics and voice: Xhabir Deralla
Music: Sead Hadzic-Secko
Illustrations: Miroslav Stojanovic Shuki
From "malfunction" - book of poetry, music and visuals
Published by Shortcut Production, 2012
All rights reserved
to shake the tree
to hold your tears back
to make someone smile
to pretend you're OK
another day
to believe in dreams
to stand up for others
to be honest and ridiculed
another day
to dig into diamond caves
to find treasures worthless to others
to seek what cannot be found
to find what others don’t even try
another day
to look at the fading humanity
to lower your guard
to fight arrogance
to conquer yourself
another day
to stare at the grey face of aging
to cherish life and fear death
to sense the pulse of the loved ones
to miss those who are gone

HEAR THE SOUND OF IT HERE
***
Lyrics and voice: Xhabir Deralla
Music: Sead Hadzic-Secko
Illustrations: Miroslav Stojanovic Shuki
From "malfunction" - book of poetry, music and visuals
Published by Shortcut Production, 2012
All rights reserved
KEEP ON DREAMING
We found each other in the endless sea of sorrow
Sharing senseless history of diseases
Sitting in the bottom of the well
Playing with frogs and worms
Changing
Digging
Changing
We run from our parents to become parents
We kill to survive
We hurt each other to find refuge
We seek refuge where it never existed
Find emptiness in the crowded streets
Become artists where ugliness rules
Frames are made of gold and
Pictures are taken away
Letters never arrive in time
Meanings of symbols never unveil
Leaves turned black while waiting for the rain
Like the mother waiting for her son to return
Keep on dreaming, my dear child, keep on dreaming
Dreams are the only reality that matters
When life will stop beating
And record of pain will make a tiny bruise in the skies
Your dreams will remain
Keep on dreaming, my dear child, keep on dreaming
Sharing senseless history of diseases
Sitting in the bottom of the well
Playing with frogs and worms
Changing
Digging
Changing
We run from our parents to become parents
We kill to survive
We hurt each other to find refuge
We seek refuge where it never existed
Find emptiness in the crowded streets
Become artists where ugliness rules
Frames are made of gold and
Pictures are taken away
Letters never arrive in time
Meanings of symbols never unveil
Leaves turned black while waiting for the rain
Like the mother waiting for her son to return
Keep on dreaming, my dear child, keep on dreaming
Dreams are the only reality that matters
When life will stop beating
And record of pain will make a tiny bruise in the skies
Your dreams will remain
Keep on dreaming, my dear child, keep on dreaming
![]() |
HEAR THE SOUND OF IT HERE |
***
Lyrics and voice: Xhabir Deralla
Music: Sead Hadzic-Secko
Illustrations: Miroslav Stojanovic Shuki
From "malfunction" - book of poetry, music and visuals
Published by Shortcut Production, 2012
All rights reserved
Lyrics and voice: Xhabir Deralla
Music: Sead Hadzic-Secko
Illustrations: Miroslav Stojanovic Shuki
From "malfunction" - book of poetry, music and visuals
Published by Shortcut Production, 2012
All rights reserved
I'M AT WAR WITH YOU
slimy, greedy, stupid and shallow
ignorant and arrogant bastards
senseless shitheads who belong
to nowhere and no time
I’m at war with you
pawns and bootlickers
peasants and small time assholes
hooligans and other rednecks
little dic[k]tators and wannabees
I’m at war with you
those who will remember you
will remember you in shame
your place is in the garbage of the history
that’s where you will remain
no matter what you do
you think politics is about power
and power is about turning people into dogs
right you are if you think of your flock
but I’m not one of you, will never be
I’m at war with you
***
Lyrics and voice: Xhabir Deralla
Music: Sead Hadzic-Secko
Illustrations: Miroslav Stojanovic Shuki
From "malfunction" - book of poetry, music and visuals
Published by Shortcut Production, 2012
All rights reserved
ignorant and arrogant bastards
senseless shitheads who belong
to nowhere and no time
I’m at war with you
pawns and bootlickers
peasants and small time assholes
hooligans and other rednecks
little dic[k]tators and wannabees
I’m at war with you
those who will remember you
will remember you in shame
your place is in the garbage of the history
that’s where you will remain
no matter what you do
you think politics is about power
and power is about turning people into dogs
right you are if you think of your flock
but I’m not one of you, will never be
I’m at war with you
![]() |
HEAR THE SOUND OF IT HERE |
***
Lyrics and voice: Xhabir Deralla
Music: Sead Hadzic-Secko
Illustrations: Miroslav Stojanovic Shuki
From "malfunction" - book of poetry, music and visuals
Published by Shortcut Production, 2012
All rights reserved
Saturday, December 1, 2012
"malfunction" - book and CD
lyrics and voice: xhabir.deralla
music: sead.hadzic
illustrations: miroslav.stojanovic
click HERE to hear a selection of two tracks from the album attached to the book.
buy the book and the album in the bookstore of ILI-ILI or the music shop of 1/2 JUGOTON
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
I DON’T BELONG TO YOUR RACE, BOY
I don’t belong to your race, boy
I don’t worship your idols and leaders and
Your silly anthems and slogans and
Don’t give a damn about your flags and other toys
I’m proud to be different
Call me a traitor or a newcomer
I know where I come from, boy
I know where I belong
I know where I go, boy
I’m the one who is free, boy, not you
I’m beautiful and unique
You are just an ugly number, boy
A meat for your greedy leaders
I’m proud to be who I am
You are the one who is confused
You are the frustrated one
You are the sick one, sick forever
Come down from the terrace, boy
Go home, boy, take care of your family
Find your peace, before trouble finds you
Stop acting stupid, boy, before it’s too late
***
I wrote this poem less than two weeks ago (on July 19), although I carry it in my thoughts for some time now. This poem is dedicated to all thugs and racist-nationalist idiots in my country and worldwide. I got particularly inspired by a song of local hooligans, but certainly think of all other shitheads around the world. I have quite a few more lyrics for and about them in my poetry book "Apocalypse" (published 2011), but even more in my new book of poetry and short stories, which is almost finished. I say almost because it's never finished unless it's printed. I wrote this poem in English, as most of my other works, but translated it in Macedonian language and posted it on my Monkeydonkeya Today blog. I also posted it in my new diary-blog CONSPECTIO. Thank you for reading!
I don’t worship your idols and leaders and
Your silly anthems and slogans and
Don’t give a damn about your flags and other toys
I’m proud to be different
Call me a traitor or a newcomer
I know where I come from, boy
I know where I belong
I know where I go, boy
I’m the one who is free, boy, not you
I’m beautiful and unique
You are just an ugly number, boy
A meat for your greedy leaders
I’m proud to be who I am
You are the one who is confused
You are the frustrated one
You are the sick one, sick forever
Come down from the terrace, boy
Go home, boy, take care of your family
Find your peace, before trouble finds you
Stop acting stupid, boy, before it’s too late
***
I wrote this poem less than two weeks ago (on July 19), although I carry it in my thoughts for some time now. This poem is dedicated to all thugs and racist-nationalist idiots in my country and worldwide. I got particularly inspired by a song of local hooligans, but certainly think of all other shitheads around the world. I have quite a few more lyrics for and about them in my poetry book "Apocalypse" (published 2011), but even more in my new book of poetry and short stories, which is almost finished. I say almost because it's never finished unless it's printed. I wrote this poem in English, as most of my other works, but translated it in Macedonian language and posted it on my Monkeydonkeya Today blog. I also posted it in my new diary-blog CONSPECTIO. Thank you for reading!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Wake up and follow your dream!
Today, more than ever, we need dreamers. We need dreamers that share a dream of justice and humanity, freedom and equality, such as the dream of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Make room for your dreams and the dreams of your fellow citizens of the world. What can you do? Read Martin's speech, spread the word, tell people that dreams may become reality, only if we share it and spread it among each other. Reality based on dreams like this is the reality of a humane world.
Don’t be afraid to dream about justice and freedom. Don’t be afraid to demand respect and fulfillment of your dreams. Demand, so they will come true.
Remember January 15, as the birthday of a great representative of the human kind, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and be a proud and demanding dreamer on this day and the days to come.
Wake up and follow your dream!
Xhabir Deralla
Xhabir Deralla
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
DON'T LET THEM WIN
They will try to scare you, please you, bribe you
They will make promises, show you the easy part of life
They will tell you lies, give you slimy compliments
They will try to stop you from thinking
Or make you think they are just and honest
They will ask you to do yourself a favor
Like they won’t take anything for themselves
Turn them down, fuck ‘m all
Don’t let them fool you, don’t let them buy you
All they want is your soul, all they want is dirty gain
After you turn them down, you will see their real faces
Facades will fall off
Claws and jaws stinking of their bloody ordeals will show
Smooth words will turn into morbid growls
The white book in their hands will turn black
The lyre will become a dagger
They’ll push you, kick you, kill you
Turn them down, fuck ‘m all
Don’t let them break you
Don’t let them win
The fight is about to begin
They have the money
They have the power of force
Tanks and truncheons, courts and prisons
They have the skies filled with COMSATs
The ground covered with wires,
CCTV and other surveillance toys
They have the money and force
Armies, police and bureaucrats to guard them
Gigantic machinery to keep them in power
Media, institutions, education systems
Always loaded with dutiful creatures
Always ready to obey, ready to commit
Unspeakable crimes to keep you down in the dust
Turn them down, fuck’m all
Don’t let them break you
Don’t let them win
The fight is about to begin
They may be huge and strong and ruthless
But they are stupid, old and ugly
Their dogs are shallow and slow
They have the muscle, you have the brains
You are smart and young and beautiful
They have the money, you have the youth
They have the COMSATs, you have the spray
They have the shotguns and tear gas
You have the stones and slogans
They own the land, you have the universe
They have the media, you have the sense of humor
They are going to die, you will remain
They will oppress, you will prevail
Turn them down, fuck’m all
Don’t let them fool you, don’t let them buy you
All they want is your soul, all they want is dirty gain
Make your dreams come true
For they will turn your life into nightmare
Turn them down, fuck’m all
Don’t let them break you
Don’t let them win
Sunday, December 4, 2011
I GIVE YOU FREEDOM
by Xhabir M. Deralla
I give you freedom
I feed you
I let you work for me
I give you life and progress
Unless you are disobedient
I am your god
Unless you want me be your devil
I bring your decisions
And let you think that you decide
I watch you everywhere, 24/7
For the sake of your security
I give you pills to make you happy
I tell you what love is
I teach you what beauty is
I tell you what human is
And – it is human to kill under my command
It is civilized to attack and slaughter, rape and loot
It is honorable to die for me
I give you money to promote human rights
I let you say few nasty words about me
I even let you have some pocket money when you criticize me
You like that game, and I let you play
I engage your mind to invent new, sophisticated weapons
I take your best years to make a profit for the chosen ones
I let you die unconscious of the evil
I spare you from the pain of thinking
I extinguish nations and races
To create more space for you
To let you cherish freedom and democracy
And pay taxes neatly and regularly
When disbelief torments you, turn on the TV
Copyright: 2011 Xhabir Memedi Deralla
![]() |
From the "Apocalypse" published 2011
MORE HERECopyright: 2011 Xhabir Memedi Deralla
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Welcome To My World
Welcome to my world
Welcome to pain and absurdity and never-ending struggle
Frenetic questioning
Welcome to my continuous departures
Welcome to the relentless running away through weird landscapes
Welcome to the hordes of runaways you don’t know and will never meet
Yet they breathe into your ears, behind your eyes
My quest has never begun, it will never end
This is a microscopic drop distilled from the immense oceans
of questions and feelings
Suffering over the absurdity
Suffering over the sense that reality does and does not make
at the same time, all the time
Finding keys to doors that do not exist
The unstoppable delirium of one single human’s quest
This is the last chapter of the beginning
An invitation to commit suicide and the opposition to it
I rejected this world by embracing it and
I embraced the world that I despised
I do it day and night
The world does it to me in return
This is an unkind attempt to explain the obvious
A strike to the heart of misery,
still admitting misery as it is,
and as it cannot be escaped
I felt
I cannot feel anymore
I cried
No tears can I produce anymore
Finding truth
Until truth became an absolute lie
I lied
Not enough to survive
I crossed all lines of defense
Until it became ridiculous to defend anything
I found the ultimate solitude in the crowd
I found a crowd of ghosts inside me
I loved
I’ve been hurt
Too many times
I fell
And I found ways to fall again
I saw men, women and children who loved life
And became best friends with death and disease
I rose over the ruins of the world
But never learnt to deal with the damage
Sadness beyond sadness
Pain beyond comprehension
Why oh why did I have to see so well?
This incredible power of observation…
And such weakness before the knowledge
The torch has killed the carrier so often
Darkness has swallowed the light
So often, so often
Welcome to the chambers of decay and hum
Your brain becomes a blade under your neck
You willingly cut the throat of your hopes
It will send you to hell, where you actually belong
Welcome to my world
It’s all yours now
_______________________________________________________________

_______________________________________________________________
Welcome to pain and absurdity and never-ending struggle
Frenetic questioning
Welcome to my continuous departures
Welcome to the relentless running away through weird landscapes
Welcome to the hordes of runaways you don’t know and will never meet
Yet they breathe into your ears, behind your eyes
My quest has never begun, it will never end
This is a microscopic drop distilled from the immense oceans
of questions and feelings
Suffering over the absurdity
Suffering over the sense that reality does and does not make
at the same time, all the time
Finding keys to doors that do not exist
The unstoppable delirium of one single human’s quest
This is the last chapter of the beginning
An invitation to commit suicide and the opposition to it
I rejected this world by embracing it and
I embraced the world that I despised
I do it day and night
The world does it to me in return
This is an unkind attempt to explain the obvious
A strike to the heart of misery,
still admitting misery as it is,
and as it cannot be escaped
I felt
I cannot feel anymore
I cried
No tears can I produce anymore
Finding truth
Until truth became an absolute lie
I lied
Not enough to survive
I crossed all lines of defense
Until it became ridiculous to defend anything
I found the ultimate solitude in the crowd
I found a crowd of ghosts inside me
I loved
I’ve been hurt
Too many times
I fell
And I found ways to fall again
I saw men, women and children who loved life
And became best friends with death and disease
I rose over the ruins of the world
But never learnt to deal with the damage
Sadness beyond sadness
Pain beyond comprehension
Why oh why did I have to see so well?
This incredible power of observation…
And such weakness before the knowledge
The torch has killed the carrier so often
Darkness has swallowed the light
So often, so often
Welcome to the chambers of decay and hum
Your brain becomes a blade under your neck
You willingly cut the throat of your hopes
It will send you to hell, where you actually belong
Welcome to my world
It’s all yours now
_______________________________________________________________

_______________________________________________________________
Selection of images inside the book:
Abdomen
A Table
A Garden
All rights reserved.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
The Deafening Whisper
Where do you think you will go from here?
You raped my mother
And shot her after your fellows followed you
Then you turned to my father and me
Handcuffed in the corner of the room
Shot us in the head and left
I will find you
When you try making love to your woman
I will sit on the couch and watch you, covered in blood
Post-traumatic disorder you will call me
You’ll try to chase me off with booze and pills, but
The deafening whisper will stay in your head
Where do you think you will go from here?
I will find you and stay with you forever
To the end of your days
Beyond death, I will be with you
I will be there, in the mirror, when you shave
At the bottom of the bottle my eyes will shine
I will hold your hand when you sleep
Knock on the door in the long silent nights
When you sit in your little backyard
You will see my shape in the shadows of your children
Xhabir M. Deralla
from "Apocalypse" (copyright Xhabir M. Deralla, 2011)
____________________________________________
Listen to the poem HERE; music by Mooger Fooger
To purchase the book, click HERE
To see pics of the launch event, click HERE
To purchase the book, click HERE
To see pics of the launch event, click HERE
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
APOCALYPSE

to buy online, click HERE:
The Book
“Apocalypse” by Xhabir Memedi Deralla is a book of poetry and photographs, published by Shortcut Production in association with Cultural Institution Blesok, in April 2011.
The book contains 45 poems in English and 19 images. Editor of this book is Wendy Hassler-Forest, Project Manager at the Musicians without Borders.
The book is divided in several chapters, all depicting the dark reality of the present and even darker future. Political poems present the Author’s view on human rights and freedoms situation in the country and the world. Some poems describe the vicious life in the city, taking you to the world of bars, sex, alcohol and the urge for self-destruction. Many poems tell the story of the eternal questions of existence and meaning of life.
“Dark and seductive, sometimes pessimist but mostly rebellious” – the editor Hassler-Forest commented on the author’s poems at one occasion.
“Their reality is painful at moments, but essential, as well. Like a doctor who has to tell the diagnose to the patient, sentences line one after another, always personal – never general or neutral, sentences that carry the flag of truth in the revolution of mind” – writes Miroslav Stojanović-Šuki[1], painter and multimedia artist (full article: http://shortcut-xhd.blogspot.com/2011/04/miroslav-stojanovic-shuki-poetry-of.html).
The Launch
The program included an exclusive stage performance of the prominent rock band Mooger Fooger and the Author. Most of the lyrics of Mooger Fooger’s new album (to be released earliest in September) are from Deralla's “Apocalypse”.
Soon: exclusive video of the performance of Mooger Fooger and Xhabir M. Deralla
more links:
[1] Miroslav Stojanović-Šuki authored 20 artworks in combined techniques (project: Print on Black - No Good Will Come of This), inspired by Deralla's poems.
More info at: http://urban-wolf.blogspot.com/2010/10/print-on-black-no-good-will-come-of.html
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