One needs a certain armour
To walk down the city streets
One cannot simply walk in favour
Of every citizen he meets
It is not hard to see them
The hard men in their throngs
Doing good when they're told too
The other times doing wrong
There are sweet doves waiting
Like sparrows in the roof
Holding on to each belfry
Like a lawyer hold onto truth
And belying the bellyful of sorrow
That emptiness leaves in their stomach
Between their toes are the nest of crows
Who wing their way to the pulpit
Sitting in their black attire
They hold counsel there
The wise men of the city
The true parliament of the lair
What would they say to corruption?
Squawk and then say no more
Because silence bellies destruction
Like the dying corpse of a whore
Judging by their numbers
The ravens sing the score
And all in Corvin negyed join them
The black hearts of the poor
Monday, 3 June 2019
Into the sound and the silence
Labels:
Budapest
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Budapest Gravy
Look I walk upon the street my name is big man of Budapest
I walk with puffed out bloated chest
Get out the way ye sonny boys
No more shall you bother my way
I am rich man, wealthy tyrant
Hear my bank notes making hay
Pass I by the bustling banks
Erste bank and OTP
They have my blessings
They have my savings
Though circling vultures
Forebode above
The nation bubbles upon a cauldron
Knivving witches and sorcerers stir
They fan the flames that make strange broths grow
And sup their takings in their bowls
Down the street I meet the dogmen
Walking their wives and girlfriends' Fidos
Look their faces are like their masters
The dogs lead these men by the nose
Those same circles hubble bubble
Witches stir with dead men's bones
Thirty years have now past us
And their curses return to atone
They rock and roll the dog headed men
They knock their knuckles upon restless doors
Never stopping, but stealing quarters
For the Nations acumen
The grifters lurk around every corner
Tricksters lean against lamp posts
They are seated in the board rooms
As drunkards rest like freedoms ghosts
And Shop girls patter in the cafes
Bearded Bohems boast in barbers
Toad like kings sit on their riches
Counting money like birds of the sky
Allay your fears the wine is soothing
The government gives us pavements
The river is drunk down by the citizens
Drop by bitter drop
Ashen faces look at the fires
The city is burning by the mob
All the emperors shower their vanities
With statues raised to a bold man's job
And with this statue they hope to prove
The Gods favour worthy of their sacrifice
But none would give what they owe us
None but the prosperous who secret their hoards
In the city park grow the fruit trees
Grafted on plum to apple
As the Mosque is grafted to the chapel
And in the Bell tower of the pear tree
Rings the fruit of rotten boroughs
In the warm breeze
That blows the wind chime
Soothing like the wise words of people
Whose dishonesty drops like a burning steeple
Upon their own heads like the reign of time
And if just one should speak the true words
Then we may have our just desserts
But it is harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven
Than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle
I walk with puffed out bloated chest
Get out the way ye sonny boys
No more shall you bother my way
I am rich man, wealthy tyrant
Hear my bank notes making hay
Pass I by the bustling banks
Erste bank and OTP
They have my blessings
They have my savings
Though circling vultures
Forebode above
The nation bubbles upon a cauldron
Knivving witches and sorcerers stir
They fan the flames that make strange broths grow
And sup their takings in their bowls
Down the street I meet the dogmen
Walking their wives and girlfriends' Fidos
Look their faces are like their masters
The dogs lead these men by the nose
Those same circles hubble bubble
Witches stir with dead men's bones
Thirty years have now past us
And their curses return to atone
They rock and roll the dog headed men
They knock their knuckles upon restless doors
Never stopping, but stealing quarters
For the Nations acumen
The grifters lurk around every corner
Tricksters lean against lamp posts
They are seated in the board rooms
As drunkards rest like freedoms ghosts
And Shop girls patter in the cafes
Bearded Bohems boast in barbers
Toad like kings sit on their riches
Counting money like birds of the sky
Allay your fears the wine is soothing
The government gives us pavements
The river is drunk down by the citizens
Drop by bitter drop
Ashen faces look at the fires
The city is burning by the mob
All the emperors shower their vanities
With statues raised to a bold man's job
And with this statue they hope to prove
The Gods favour worthy of their sacrifice
But none would give what they owe us
None but the prosperous who secret their hoards
In the city park grow the fruit trees
Grafted on plum to apple
As the Mosque is grafted to the chapel
And in the Bell tower of the pear tree
Rings the fruit of rotten boroughs
In the warm breeze
That blows the wind chime
Soothing like the wise words of people
Whose dishonesty drops like a burning steeple
Upon their own heads like the reign of time
And if just one should speak the true words
Then we may have our just desserts
But it is harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven
Than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle
Labels:
Budapest
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Saturday, 1 June 2019
River bride
The river runs high
And the waves spill over
The river runs wide
Like a bride from the altar
The river cries tears
Like salt from the salter
The river bolts clear
Like a horse from the halter
They try to cross
But they can't cross over
There is only loss
Until all our words falter
Why must we try
To go further than the father
Who knows what we hide
From son to daughter
Away she tries
Kicks her spurs in its sides
The horse is a runner
Like the waves of water
And the waves spill over
The river runs wide
Like a bride from the altar
The river cries tears
Like salt from the salter
The river bolts clear
Like a horse from the halter
They try to cross
But they can't cross over
There is only loss
Until all our words falter
Why must we try
To go further than the father
Who knows what we hide
From son to daughter
Away she tries
Kicks her spurs in its sides
The horse is a runner
Like the waves of water
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Friday, 31 May 2019
After The Lion left the room
The lion left the room
It had been sitting in the corner
Foreboding our doom
It took its pound of flesh
Before it left
And we are all that remains
We are the rest
The river Gods have claimed their sacrifice
They raged and raved all night
Two ships collided in the water
They paid the highest price
But are they finished with the slaughter
How many deaths will be the toll
Before the river authorities alter
And reason takes back control
I hear the head and shoulders heaving
The rescuers on heavy ropes heave ho
And as they walk away, in leaving,
Dejected with heavy footsteps go
They dragged the river bed
No sign could they find of the hull
Like the rib cage of a whale encasing
The breathless bodies and souls
The water comes in shocking shards
Like ice sheets falling from the skies
And in the river the terrible serpents
Close their grips and tighten their ties
Hard, hard they thrash in the water
Oh what purpose could justify
Such loss, such senseless torture
Tourists visiting first time in their lives
Out on the David's ship deck the captain glimpses
This gargantuan ship in surprise
And the other Captain of the Goliath Viking
Can neither see clearly nor take evasive exercise
The bulk of one, the distraction of the other
The bridge looms large like an open mouth
And forth spills the torrents of snow from the Alps
As rain falls hard from dark black skies
What were they doing out in such weather?
Was it worth the price of the ticket that cost their lives?
Those of us who are land lubbers
Know little of the risks involved
Nor of the captain who could read the water
Its every twist and fold
But what such currents could do after
The cruel twists of fate now told
The river like a Neptune's circus
Where carpets were pulled
And many rugs fold
Where lions of waves leaped at the wreck
Tigers of currents growled underside
And the ring master's whip
Could do nothing to save him
And carried it with him
Down to his grave
Now the water is calmer
The storm is over
The tempest has ceased
The river is high up to the border
The banks like the cage of a wild beast
The spectators look on
who have been left to their own doom
After the lion has left the room
It had been sitting in the corner
Foreboding our doom
It took its pound of flesh
Before it left
And we are all that remains
We are the rest
The river Gods have claimed their sacrifice
They raged and raved all night
Two ships collided in the water
They paid the highest price
But are they finished with the slaughter
How many deaths will be the toll
Before the river authorities alter
And reason takes back control
I hear the head and shoulders heaving
The rescuers on heavy ropes heave ho
And as they walk away, in leaving,
Dejected with heavy footsteps go
They dragged the river bed
No sign could they find of the hull
Like the rib cage of a whale encasing
The breathless bodies and souls
The water comes in shocking shards
Like ice sheets falling from the skies
And in the river the terrible serpents
Close their grips and tighten their ties
Hard, hard they thrash in the water
Oh what purpose could justify
Such loss, such senseless torture
Tourists visiting first time in their lives
Out on the David's ship deck the captain glimpses
This gargantuan ship in surprise
And the other Captain of the Goliath Viking
Can neither see clearly nor take evasive exercise
The bulk of one, the distraction of the other
The bridge looms large like an open mouth
And forth spills the torrents of snow from the Alps
As rain falls hard from dark black skies
What were they doing out in such weather?
Was it worth the price of the ticket that cost their lives?
Those of us who are land lubbers
Know little of the risks involved
Nor of the captain who could read the water
Its every twist and fold
But what such currents could do after
The cruel twists of fate now told
The river like a Neptune's circus
Where carpets were pulled
And many rugs fold
Where lions of waves leaped at the wreck
Tigers of currents growled underside
And the ring master's whip
Could do nothing to save him
And carried it with him
Down to his grave
Now the water is calmer
The storm is over
The tempest has ceased
The river is high up to the border
The banks like the cage of a wild beast
The spectators look on
who have been left to their own doom
After the lion has left the room
Labels:
lion
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 26 May 2019
I tried to write you a letter
Well I could have wrote you a letter
but I knew not what to say
So to phone from here was better
But I had hell to pay
Now the devil's in the detail
And he was hard at work that day
Listening to the intel
Of what we had to say
I should have wrote you a letter
To save some face
But instead I thought it better
To call you from my place
Now the weathers getting wetter
And the sun hides his face
Some say I should forget her
But they're not in my place
So I write you this letter
To put an end to my curse
But instead of getting better
Things just got much worse
Well I walk in hills with the twisting vines
And I know love kills but it takes its time
So we can do worse than sip another wine
Because love can be a remedy when it isn't a crime
Now young witches
Hide in ditches
Awaiting to cast their spell
But you can't say I'm not religious
When I slayed the sacred cow
And all those sons of bitches
Who break their wedding vow
Well I tried to write you a letter
But the words fails me now
but I knew not what to say
So to phone from here was better
But I had hell to pay
Now the devil's in the detail
And he was hard at work that day
Listening to the intel
Of what we had to say
I should have wrote you a letter
To save some face
But instead I thought it better
To call you from my place
Now the weathers getting wetter
And the sun hides his face
Some say I should forget her
But they're not in my place
So I write you this letter
To put an end to my curse
But instead of getting better
Things just got much worse
Well I walk in hills with the twisting vines
And I know love kills but it takes its time
So we can do worse than sip another wine
Because love can be a remedy when it isn't a crime
Now young witches
Hide in ditches
Awaiting to cast their spell
But you can't say I'm not religious
When I slayed the sacred cow
And all those sons of bitches
Who break their wedding vow
Well I tried to write you a letter
But the words fails me now
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Good day / Bad day
The
landscape changed
The train
didn’t seem to go
The way I
had arranged
In my mind
it had derailed
Flowed into
a dream land
of hills
and beaches
Fresh rills
and green beeches stand
Sziget
Szent Miklos
I
understand now is not Csepel
Just as HEV
6 is not the same as HEV 7
One track
leads to heaven
The other
rail goes to hell
If it can
be right that my mistake
Be made by
mortal hands
The logic I
forsake
When I
chose to walk not stand
Without my
bicycle
I am confined
to these iron wheels
That roll
in undeniable locomotion
Circumventing
paradise
The devil
took control
And wielded
his mighty sword
Cut through
Kis vagoshid’s soil
Cleaved a
mighty chasm
The place
that I did fall
And yet the
Csepel Angels
Came to my fallen
call
Carried me
on wings of steel
Back upon
the pilgrim’s road
Now I feel
my world is real
That I am
missing my heavy load
My heart
evacuated the devil
From its
grip
The witch
let go her talon hold
Upon my
earthly trip
And I am a
freeman at last
To live no
more a slave
In this
poor country of consequences
Their past
decisions proved too grave
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Miss Budapest
Will I miss
Budapest
Will I miss
Budapest
Will I
miss, will I miss
Will I miss Miss Budapest
Miss
Budapest walked in her new dress
And it
swished and it swayed
Around her
waist
And she
tied back her sweet hair
In the way
of her care
And I’ll
miss her I’ll miss her
I dare say
But its all
for the best
That I
leave Budapest
And her
perilous ways
And her
seductive days
And I dare
say I’ll Miss
That
tempestuous witch
That made
my passions itch
With her
swish and her sway
But I could
never trust
The ice or
the rust
Of her rivers
and bridges
That turned
shivers in fridges
And her
cold stare
But I dare
say
On bright
sunny days
Then her
light shiny haze
Was my
chestnut doom
My Budapest
room
In the
fallow streets’ rays
Where I
rest under limes
And shadows
of pines
In the dark
garden climes
Of her past
noon times
Well I’ll
Miss her
I’ll Miss
her
I’ll kiss
her
Do kiss her
For me
For brother
and sister
The sun and
the moon
Will pass
like bright chariots
Maybe I’ll
come back to her soon
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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