Roses are Red
So is your hair
When we walked up the hill
In the fresh morning air
to Gul Baba, looking like a saint
The walls in the background could
Do with a lick of paint
Yet that is Budapest - tired and torn
Living like fish in a bowl, new born
Swimming around staring goggle-eyed at things
The sweetness in a crisp packet blown up in the wind
The temperance of shadows that lends buildings their mood
The light plays and puppet hands of a life when its good
Your hands also played in the snow
Shifting it back and forth ceaseless cold show
Roses are red, they lay dormant and freeze
On the balconies of the mausoleum
Around the holy knees
They climb their way up hill
She rambles like a rose
They climb their way up the trellis of time
She flies straight as the crows
They all have their heads cut off by a prudent gardener
Prudence, leaves her shears at home
She watches as her red hair grows
The sky line skates beneath the cloud,
Out lines of the Parliament cry aloud
And roof tops, taking weight lifter bets
To prove how much white stuff they can hold
And the rose grows its thorns of the past
Prick us and we bleed our red onto the snow
That somehow we know will soon melt
And yet we can never forget
Tuesday, 18 December 2018
Roses are Red
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
A white Christmas
In the snow we hide
Ourselves, our clothes
The white space inside
Unblemished by the knowledge
That the truth did stand on lies
Pure white as the snow drifts
Upon the roof top tiles
In single nature
We split ourselves like mitochondria
For every shaving of the self
Comes out its hypochondria
That every ailing Christmas Elf
Has before Santa seen himself
A reflection of eternal health
For the safe milk formula
And slowly, oh so slowly
Do the half truths come to light
Like little pimples bursting through
The red ring surrounds the head of white
If in this whiteness is the bad
Then bad must be squeezed out
Just let the rivers run red
Let the streams trickle with blood
The blood tells no lies at last
Blood cannot lie
It ties us to our distant past
Those swimming genes in nuclei
Ourselves, our clothes
The white space inside
Unblemished by the knowledge
That the truth did stand on lies
Pure white as the snow drifts
Upon the roof top tiles
In single nature
We split ourselves like mitochondria
For every shaving of the self
Comes out its hypochondria
That every ailing Christmas Elf
Has before Santa seen himself
A reflection of eternal health
For the safe milk formula
And slowly, oh so slowly
Do the half truths come to light
Like little pimples bursting through
The red ring surrounds the head of white
If in this whiteness is the bad
Then bad must be squeezed out
Just let the rivers run red
Let the streams trickle with blood
The blood tells no lies at last
Blood cannot lie
It ties us to our distant past
Those swimming genes in nuclei
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Friday, 7 December 2018
All at once I saw you
All at once I saw you
Like in a dream
Some vague notions of forgiveness
Mixed in an unrighteous stream
But its all on the dark side
Cold in the shadow of a mountain
Those mountains of youth
That just do not move
And won't allow you to love
So I brought you back to that mountain
and gave you a shovel and spade
And told you to start digging
A hole for forgiving
One tunnel that will let light into the shade
Some nights it seems so distant
That train whistle in the grove
The darkness in the valley of the thistle
Where the wild heather grows
Some nights it seems so invisible
Like ghosts, revealing themselves
Through the eves of the past
To make your love last
Down among the sleeves of book shelves
All at once I saw you
Like the moon from behind the clouds
Like I knew you were there
Some forest with a bear
Some trees with the thickness of crowds
Like in a dream
Some vague notions of forgiveness
Mixed in an unrighteous stream
But its all on the dark side
Cold in the shadow of a mountain
Those mountains of youth
That just do not move
And won't allow you to love
So I brought you back to that mountain
and gave you a shovel and spade
And told you to start digging
A hole for forgiving
One tunnel that will let light into the shade
Some nights it seems so distant
That train whistle in the grove
The darkness in the valley of the thistle
Where the wild heather grows
Some nights it seems so invisible
Like ghosts, revealing themselves
Through the eves of the past
To make your love last
Down among the sleeves of book shelves
All at once I saw you
Like the moon from behind the clouds
Like I knew you were there
Some forest with a bear
Some trees with the thickness of crowds
Labels:
crowds
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Tuesday, 4 December 2018
Sahara Sarah
The day that I saw you in a single's bar
Was one of the happiest I must say so far
You had on a dress the colour of Ivory
I had a bone to pick with you
It was the elephant in the room
But I wasn't the poacher, there is the irony
Because when you spoke I lost my tusks
To your Savannah robbery, your African musk
Your Leopard skin hide, and the thorn in your side
I just couldn't pull out, like Daniel and the Lion
I tried to save you from dying, and you did the same
For me
When they threw me to the wolves, and the wolf whistles
and calls you had to endure, but you were sure-footed
And True
As the sky turned blue, and we could see through
All their games to the horizon
The Sun never sets, on our relationship, like the moon it gets
Wet in the ocean of night, and sails like a ship on the blind side
Of light, passing day hauled up at bay, then in the darkness
We pass, through the holes of each other's hearts
Like some invisible thread, like some camel that treads
Through the desert to the needle's eye
Was one of the happiest I must say so far
You had on a dress the colour of Ivory
I had a bone to pick with you
It was the elephant in the room
But I wasn't the poacher, there is the irony
Because when you spoke I lost my tusks
To your Savannah robbery, your African musk
Your Leopard skin hide, and the thorn in your side
I just couldn't pull out, like Daniel and the Lion
I tried to save you from dying, and you did the same
For me
When they threw me to the wolves, and the wolf whistles
and calls you had to endure, but you were sure-footed
And True
As the sky turned blue, and we could see through
All their games to the horizon
The Sun never sets, on our relationship, like the moon it gets
Wet in the ocean of night, and sails like a ship on the blind side
Of light, passing day hauled up at bay, then in the darkness
We pass, through the holes of each other's hearts
Like some invisible thread, like some camel that treads
Through the desert to the needle's eye
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Emperor
Oh now don't worry he's an emperor
He'll burn up your heart
No don't forget his interior
Its a mansion's noble part
Now the Sun never sets on his empire
He spends seven lives on his art
For what he's created, he's destroyed in the fire
And it's burned several holes in his heart
Now Judas he was a liar, a deceiver right from the start
But he believed with all his desire
In the empire of his heart
Now silver coins they could buy him
And gold could turn his will
But what he conspired was for an empire
And a prophecy to fulfill
Yes now here is the empire
Here is the loquacious machine
And it turns a dark will, as a Satanic mill
And it makes a mockery of the heart
The Sun never sets on his empire
The sun will continue to rise
But the day will end
When he can't find a friend
And his empire will be his only prize
He'll burn up your heart
No don't forget his interior
Its a mansion's noble part
Now the Sun never sets on his empire
He spends seven lives on his art
For what he's created, he's destroyed in the fire
And it's burned several holes in his heart
Now Judas he was a liar, a deceiver right from the start
But he believed with all his desire
In the empire of his heart
Now silver coins they could buy him
And gold could turn his will
But what he conspired was for an empire
And a prophecy to fulfill
Yes now here is the empire
Here is the loquacious machine
And it turns a dark will, as a Satanic mill
And it makes a mockery of the heart
The Sun never sets on his empire
The sun will continue to rise
But the day will end
When he can't find a friend
And his empire will be his only prize
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
The falling stars
The stars are falling down
In the city, in the town
They're falling from the steeples
Like jewels from a crown
They're falling from the tower
From the lapels of those in power
The stars are falling down
They're falling from the Christmas trees
The stars are falling in the cities
They're falling off the flags
Like antlers off the stags
The stars of the city are falling down
You look up from the gutter
And see them glitter in the sky
You think of all the utter
Business of truth telling over lie
And try to reach beyond to pluck them
For your piece of pie
But they fall between your fingers
Like tears fall when you cry
The stars are falling down this Christmas time
They're falling like the fairy dust
On twinkle town
They're falling from the tree
The stars of the bold and free
Falling down on you and me
In our prime
In the city, in the town
They're falling from the steeples
Like jewels from a crown
They're falling from the tower
From the lapels of those in power
The stars are falling down
They're falling from the Christmas trees
The stars are falling in the cities
They're falling off the flags
Like antlers off the stags
The stars of the city are falling down
You look up from the gutter
And see them glitter in the sky
You think of all the utter
Business of truth telling over lie
And try to reach beyond to pluck them
For your piece of pie
But they fall between your fingers
Like tears fall when you cry
The stars are falling down this Christmas time
They're falling like the fairy dust
On twinkle town
They're falling from the tree
The stars of the bold and free
Falling down on you and me
In our prime
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 2 December 2018
They’re burning trees in Budapest -There’s a forest fire in Budapest
They’re burning the trees in city park
There’s a fire in their heart
There’s a smell of timber in the streets
And the logs are loading up the cart
There’s fungi eating up the wood
and a disease in the bark
There’s a war between the bad and good
And they’re burning the trees in city park
The branches are barren and bare
The fertility of the city
Is on fire, like Hell's lair
They’re attacking her womb
And from the rotten roots
Grow twisted trunks
So, they’re selling her shoots from car
boots
Giving the dogs back their bites
While taking away their bark
Not letting them sleep with the drunks
They’re burning the trees in city park
There’s a canker in the heart
There’s a smell of bonfires in the air
There’s a pest eating us apart
There’s a worm in the pear
There’s a bug within the leaf
And a cancer eats at government
There’s the breeding ground for our grief
Corruption written on the walls of
Parliament
Labels:
Budapest
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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