With unlimited breath
They took off their vest
And strung up their articles there
That love and virtue on the breast
Should overcome fear and despair
Hate and Envy are trampled underfoot
Of the goatherd's or cherubim's boot
And the putty still sticks to the wall
As the faces that are pulled, appall
We all deny, we are ugly
To our reflections in the mirror
We are cute
The marble statues stretch into the hall
Where infinities images stand tall
All of human suffering is merely conditional
Based on the curator switching the lights
on at all
Are we just waves lapping at time's rock?
Or like the Berlin Wall
Just pieces the curator saves
Chips off the old block?
Tuesday, 19 February 2019
The museum fragments
Labels:
museums
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Thursday, 14 February 2019
Not my cuppa tea
Oh Hungarians when will you learn to drink tea?
It is not that it is an Englishman's right
Its just not the tea for me
I find it quite crass
To serve tea in a glass
And to leave it to steep in the water
The fact that I say
Should give much away
Like a father does so for his daughter
It is not that it is an Englishman's property
But I must confess
That we know the best
And you should not trespass
On its simplicity
First in goes the teabag
(if it must be made in a cup I might add)
Then add the water, at the point of boiling
Now wait for it to brew
Like an arrow it is true
If you rush in then you
Will experience more unpleasantness after
Once its reached a suitable hue
Like the feeling of amber
Or a Polynesian dew
It should be as much felt as seen
Then add the milk
No sooner no later
And certainly not before the tea bag
That is a sin as bad
As mixing up silk
With the skin of a gator
And gives the worse tea ever had
Follow these steps and be sure
Of a nice cuppa tea not a chore
But a pleasure, so be glad
Of this advice that you've had
So please follow it and do not ignore
It is not that it is an Englishman's right
Its just not the tea for me
I find it quite crass
To serve tea in a glass
And to leave it to steep in the water
The fact that I say
Should give much away
Like a father does so for his daughter
It is not that it is an Englishman's property
But I must confess
That we know the best
And you should not trespass
On its simplicity
First in goes the teabag
(if it must be made in a cup I might add)
Then add the water, at the point of boiling
Now wait for it to brew
Like an arrow it is true
If you rush in then you
Will experience more unpleasantness after
Once its reached a suitable hue
Like the feeling of amber
Or a Polynesian dew
It should be as much felt as seen
Then add the milk
No sooner no later
And certainly not before the tea bag
That is a sin as bad
As mixing up silk
With the skin of a gator
And gives the worse tea ever had
Follow these steps and be sure
Of a nice cuppa tea not a chore
But a pleasure, so be glad
Of this advice that you've had
So please follow it and do not ignore
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Wednesday, 13 February 2019
Bus Number 32
Béke Tér
Szegedi
Róbert Karoly ut Reitter ference, kiadoc
21 Nemzeti Dóhánybolt
Vágany ut
Amerikai ut Orvos elektronika kft
Drive in Kezimunka
Szent Laszlo ut Féher jeital
20.55 LPG Függöny, Megnyílt
GUMI
Sava, Dunlop, Goodyear
Polgar Automosó
Nicki Minaj Juce Wrld
Algoflex forte DJ Crossback
Idegenek Toto Cutogo
Bethseda CTS URS
Laptop Acacia Tree
King Hetek BIG KING _BKK
Kacsok Kassai tér
Zugló Atlantis Las Vegas Casino
Labour Trend Picar
Nagy Lájos Király utja Tejbolt
Orás Hazi tej Joghur Korona
SPAR MAV telep
Protbin Ingatlan hitel
Muszeresz szűrő bolt Posta
kerekgyártó ut
Gumiszerviz nyák tér
Hada vaszonkep Planet
Non-stop Deliketessen (closed for repair)
Lakasálmaidat Megvaosítani?
új rapid kölcsönnel
informacia Fagylatzó Jazmin
Erci Optika Divatház
Erci Optika Szuglo utca
CEG.....IT....com......Blikk
Szony Egressy tér
Zol ferex Professionalis DJ
Mezopotam Jeszenék János utca
Bórhal Parkolasi ugyfélszolgalat
Festek bolt Pongratz Gergely tér
sikeres jővo varital Aloe Thai Masszazs
Duna Hous Eladna Ingatlan Likispa
Bánki Donát utca
Gubacsi Határ ut number 3 tram
Budapest Metropolitan egyetem
Ors vezér tere M+H
Szegedi
Róbert Karoly ut Reitter ference, kiadoc
21 Nemzeti Dóhánybolt
Vágany ut
Amerikai ut Orvos elektronika kft
Drive in Kezimunka
Szent Laszlo ut Féher jeital
20.55 LPG Függöny, Megnyílt
GUMI
Sava, Dunlop, Goodyear
Polgar Automosó
Nicki Minaj Juce Wrld
Algoflex forte DJ Crossback
Idegenek Toto Cutogo
Bethseda CTS URS
Laptop Acacia Tree
King Hetek BIG KING _BKK
Kacsok Kassai tér
Zugló Atlantis Las Vegas Casino
Labour Trend Picar
Nagy Lájos Király utja Tejbolt
Orás Hazi tej Joghur Korona
SPAR MAV telep
Protbin Ingatlan hitel
Muszeresz szűrő bolt Posta
kerekgyártó ut
Gumiszerviz nyák tér
Hada vaszonkep Planet
Non-stop Deliketessen (closed for repair)
Lakasálmaidat Megvaosítani?
új rapid kölcsönnel
informacia Fagylatzó Jazmin
Erci Optika Divatház
Erci Optika Szuglo utca
CEG.....IT....com......Blikk
Szony Egressy tér
Zol ferex Professionalis DJ
Mezopotam Jeszenék János utca
Bórhal Parkolasi ugyfélszolgalat
Festek bolt Pongratz Gergely tér
sikeres jővo varital Aloe Thai Masszazs
Duna Hous Eladna Ingatlan Likispa
Bánki Donát utca
Gubacsi Határ ut number 3 tram
Budapest Metropolitan egyetem
Ors vezér tere M+H
Labels:
Budapest
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 10 February 2019
Riding the tram
Riding the tram, choo, choo
Here I am
Running the rails again
Run, run Roman rails
Run through gullies and arches
Stones laid by men long ago
At the end of terrific marches
Run in the stinking light of dawn
Chock-a-blocked like chocolate shops
Cars and trains, cranes and cans
Being kicked, lowered, spilled and rammed
in traffic jams
In the Roman way
Kind of straight like the Danube
But running wheels ran
Like curly currents of the river
Or white gulls that scan
With their photographic memory of
Every fish they ever landed
Implanted like spies
In the minds of fishermen who stand
But never minded
Altogether elsewhere, the river strains
And the land extends its hand
Evidence of man
In castles and squares
Protesters meet and chant
Play blazing, strident revolutionary music
That shocks people, in amazement
They too stand and stare
At this band of loyal half-brothers
Blood brothers perhaps
Surrounded by a ring of cops
In another time it could have been
a folk dance, some dramatic scene
Displayed by actors frozen in character
But for the reality of visceral movements
Voices and chants of down with Orbán
Which Puts it squarely in Széll Kálmán Tér
The year two thousand and nineteen
Here I am
Running the rails again
Run, run Roman rails
Run through gullies and arches
Stones laid by men long ago
At the end of terrific marches
Run in the stinking light of dawn
Chock-a-blocked like chocolate shops
Cars and trains, cranes and cans
Being kicked, lowered, spilled and rammed
in traffic jams
In the Roman way
Kind of straight like the Danube
But running wheels ran
Like curly currents of the river
Or white gulls that scan
With their photographic memory of
Every fish they ever landed
Implanted like spies
In the minds of fishermen who stand
But never minded
Altogether elsewhere, the river strains
And the land extends its hand
Evidence of man
In castles and squares
Protesters meet and chant
Play blazing, strident revolutionary music
That shocks people, in amazement
They too stand and stare
At this band of loyal half-brothers
Blood brothers perhaps
Surrounded by a ring of cops
In another time it could have been
a folk dance, some dramatic scene
Displayed by actors frozen in character
But for the reality of visceral movements
Voices and chants of down with Orbán
Which Puts it squarely in Széll Kálmán Tér
The year two thousand and nineteen
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Bricks and Mortar
Bricks and mortar
Of the son and the daughter
Come tumbling, tumbling down
Then the lives in the water
Full of murder and slaughter
Of the man and woman in town
How now holy man, where is your crown?
In the pond where your children have drowned
And the stars and the stripes
Fall across the sky of black
And like scars across your back
they bring you down
And the crosses that you bear
Are caught in the cross hair
Of the snipers who shoot from the other side
And the stigmata on your palms
will not wash away the arms
That you sold to ensure your own pride
So be careful of the tide
That's been sleeping your bride
She's been married to the moon before
And the sea is her rich aunt
Who's grown her like a plant
in her arms, in her arms
Away from all her dreams
And the troubles that she's seen
Every time she killed someone
She liked
So forgive your brothers too
Who's been playing the deep blues
In the shadows of the clock tower
At night
Even leaving before midnight
Left the spoils to be bright
As a leaf is left on the ground to mould
Half of everything I've owned
Has been sold before I'm old
Twice as much as what I started with
If it seems a great idea
You'll be sorry to hear
That the love I felt was sold
At first sight
Going easy in the sale
Like a Chippendale
Like a wind that blows away a grey face
And leaves the walking dead
To be suffering instead
From the troubles of a life
Made in gold
Because we all were born so innocent
Of the forceful arms of incident
The systems, the memes and the tones
of government
That rule each individual hue
Is no different in the queue
Where they march into the fiery mold
To come out a human adult
Built to work suffer and submit
to the will of the government
When they are told
And they shall never know
Of the possibilities foretold in their stars
When they were born like any other
Of the pure and simple diatribe
The luxurious fireside
Or the lake or Lagoon
Where they could live away from busy strife
The machinations of Machiavellian wills
The dominance of others to love
Marry, steal or kill
To get their property man or wife
To own authority over others
Acquire meaning in their life
It all seems so antiquated
Like from birth to death
Everything is metric
And measured is every breath
and you must break free
And the stigmata on your palms
will not wash away the arms
That you sold to ensure your own pride
So be careful of the tide
That's been sleeping your bride
She's been married to the moon before
And the sea is her rich aunt
Who's grown her like a plant
in her arms, in her arms
Away from all her dreams
And the troubles that she's seen
Every time she killed someone
She liked
So forgive your brothers too
Who's been playing the deep blues
In the shadows of the clock tower
At night
Even leaving before midnight
Left the spoils to be bright
As a leaf is left on the ground to mould
Half of everything I've owned
Has been sold before I'm old
Twice as much as what I started with
If it seems a great idea
You'll be sorry to hear
That the love I felt was sold
At first sight
Going easy in the sale
Like a Chippendale
Like a wind that blows away a grey face
And leaves the walking dead
To be suffering instead
From the troubles of a life
Made in gold
Because we all were born so innocent
Of the forceful arms of incident
The systems, the memes and the tones
of government
That rule each individual hue
Is no different in the queue
Where they march into the fiery mold
To come out a human adult
Built to work suffer and submit
to the will of the government
When they are told
And they shall never know
Of the possibilities foretold in their stars
When they were born like any other
Of the pure and simple diatribe
The luxurious fireside
Or the lake or Lagoon
Where they could live away from busy strife
The machinations of Machiavellian wills
The dominance of others to love
Marry, steal or kill
To get their property man or wife
To own authority over others
Acquire meaning in their life
It all seems so antiquated
Like from birth to death
Everything is metric
And measured is every breath
and you must break free
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Friday, 8 February 2019
Upon the Sea Bed
Terrific hieroglyphic
Electro-psychic, Pyrrhic
Formaldehyde cyanide
Toxic Bride
In buried pride
Keep alive
Your good side
Marry off your endive, cheese and chive
Dip into Hemingway
It is important to be Ernest
Anyway
If not try to match the macho
Machismo of Italian Baptismo
Of fiery pride
During what seemed to be a sleepless night
I turned and elfin' like
Let forth a colossal sigh
My ghost shivered then dived
Into the splashing water by my bedside
As a float was the bed
On a sea alive
The captain called from the bed head
All hands on deck
We threw up the bed cover sail
Recovered our sea legs
The springs they sang
As we sprang
On to the gunwale
And a passing humpback
Surfaced
I cried the sleeping leviathan
Does rise! Lo ahoy!
Man and Boy
Awake from your dreaming slumber
She has come back sea-side
She of the lumpen-humped back
Lumber splintered
Cracked and shivered
The timber bed-frame shook
Captain Ahab in his mad
Arabian curb
Threw his insults to our wonder
At the shaking blubbery blur
That blew her whistle
As a steam train on time
Clocking into platform number nine
And I fell sleeping in her cloud of steam
Such was the thunder aloud in my dream
Electro-psychic, Pyrrhic
Formaldehyde cyanide
Toxic Bride
In buried pride
Keep alive
Your good side
Marry off your endive, cheese and chive
Dip into Hemingway
It is important to be Ernest
Anyway
If not try to match the macho
Machismo of Italian Baptismo
Of fiery pride
During what seemed to be a sleepless night
I turned and elfin' like
Let forth a colossal sigh
My ghost shivered then dived
Into the splashing water by my bedside
As a float was the bed
On a sea alive
The captain called from the bed head
All hands on deck
We threw up the bed cover sail
Recovered our sea legs
The springs they sang
As we sprang
On to the gunwale
And a passing humpback
Surfaced
I cried the sleeping leviathan
Does rise! Lo ahoy!
Man and Boy
Awake from your dreaming slumber
She has come back sea-side
She of the lumpen-humped back
Lumber splintered
Cracked and shivered
The timber bed-frame shook
Captain Ahab in his mad
Arabian curb
Threw his insults to our wonder
At the shaking blubbery blur
That blew her whistle
As a steam train on time
Clocking into platform number nine
And I fell sleeping in her cloud of steam
Such was the thunder aloud in my dream
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Thursday, 7 February 2019
The Bag Song
Ransacked
Cul-de-sac
Everybody back-packed
Fanny pack, bum bag
Everybody carry a swag
All I have to say is that
Suitcases can make your bum look fat
Handbag, wag-bag
Baghdad satchel fad
Leather-case bootlace
Tie it satch-mo face
All I have to say is that
Bum bags make your bum look fat
Tie it, Zip it, no body rip it
Sainsbury's, Asda, home shop in Mazda
Sling it in, bring it in, fold it up,
Ring a ding
All I have to say is that
Carrier bags make your bum look fat
IKEA Tarpaulin, Marks and Spencer
Hempen thing
Fabric, magic, silk wool or plastic
Top end, bottom shelf
Pick one up, help yourself
Throw away society
If it doesn't fly, it isn't free
Nobody needs a bag (for life) for their health
Carpet baggin', carpet shaggin'
Brown paper bag of gin
Dumpster, thumpster, down and out gangster
On a plane vomit
Save yourself, breathe calm again
Feel like a comet
On a rise, then a fall
Visit the can, then bag it all
all I have to say is that
A body bag can make your bum look fat
On a mountain, in a fountain
Hike it, bike it, everybody like it
Advertise for sore-eyes, everyone economize
Too big, too small, over shoulder tennis ball
Hurricane too bad, Glaswegian Bawl bag
Cul-de-sac
Everybody back-packed
Fanny pack, bum bag
Everybody carry a swag
All I have to say is that
Suitcases can make your bum look fat
Handbag, wag-bag
Baghdad satchel fad
Leather-case bootlace
Tie it satch-mo face
All I have to say is that
Bum bags make your bum look fat
Tie it, Zip it, no body rip it
Sainsbury's, Asda, home shop in Mazda
Sling it in, bring it in, fold it up,
Ring a ding
All I have to say is that
Carrier bags make your bum look fat
IKEA Tarpaulin, Marks and Spencer
Hempen thing
Fabric, magic, silk wool or plastic
Top end, bottom shelf
Pick one up, help yourself
Throw away society
If it doesn't fly, it isn't free
Nobody needs a bag (for life) for their health
Carpet baggin', carpet shaggin'
Brown paper bag of gin
Dumpster, thumpster, down and out gangster
On a plane vomit
Save yourself, breathe calm again
Feel like a comet
On a rise, then a fall
Visit the can, then bag it all
all I have to say is that
A body bag can make your bum look fat
On a mountain, in a fountain
Hike it, bike it, everybody like it
Advertise for sore-eyes, everyone economize
Too big, too small, over shoulder tennis ball
Hurricane too bad, Glaswegian Bawl bag
All I have
to say is that some bags don’t make your bum
Look fat
String
strap, chin-strap
Everybody
brain rap
All I have
to say is that
Purses don’t
make your bum look fat
Purses,
curses, everyone reverses
Inside,
outside, make it black or white side
Lining,
pining every bag defining
Each a
different lining
All I have
to say is that
Diamond
studded handbags don’t make your bum look fat
Silver
buckle, copper knuckle,
Knuckle
duster, feather fluster
Pretty,
frilly, every kind of silly
All I have
to say is that laptop bags
Don’t make
your bum look fat
Snake skin,
fake skin, even keep a steak in
Make-up,
lip stick, take up a dip stick
Micro-wave
seal-able, Gold fish save
Its steal-able
All I have
to say is that coconut shies
Don’t make
your bum look fat
Man-bag, grab-a-bag,
what a slag in Baghdad
Make a
point, turn a corner, light a joint
Feed a
feeler, all I have to say is that
Metrosexuals can make your bum look fat
Here’s a
bag, there’s a bag
Everybody
Hacky-sack
Feed the
lack, fill the black
Bag it,
sag it, everybody hag it
All I have
to say is that
Everybody
makes out everybody else is fat
Sure, you
disclaim it, you may even exclaim
Or claim it
– its in the bag, it’s yours
Pull up
your pants
Fill up
your draws
Don’t try
to shame it, explain it or name it
That bag is
to blame for it
All I have
to say is that
No bag can
make your bum look fat
It doesn’t
matter anyways
The
writings on the motorways
The plane
takes off
Another
lands
It's all the
same in a bag-less land
For nobody
carries you
No dog collects
its own poo
We all
choose to use you
Even throw
you out, abuse you
Oh bag,
only a bag lady really does love you
Let’s leave
it at that
Only a Bum
can make a bag look fat
Labels:
bag
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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