vagytok, vagyunk,
vagyok, voltam,
vagyom.
emlék, poros polcok,
a veranda színes üvegmozaikján átszűrődő napfény
volt, van,
vagyunk.
emlék, elhagyott,
hagyom.
padlás, doh,
a kútba bele ne essél,lefedem.

Mosolyogva nézek vissza rád a kútból,
a deszka korhadt,
cseresznyét szedtem,
elértem a felső ágat is innen,
de milyen jó,
hogy cseresznyével tele
estem le,
itt sem éhezem,
nyugodj meg,
és a cseresznyét,
azt nagyon szeretem.
Mosolygok rád,
már csak fénykép vagyok
két copfomra emlékszel,
mert az van a fotón,
meg a fehér kezeslábasom,
a hintás fotón is azt hordom,
nagyon szerettem.
de nem,
a fotón, ami most már régi,
pedig akkor még új volt,
és nagyon jó,
a fotón ott kisdobos vagyok,
vagyok, vagyom, voltam, vagytam.
Az asztalodon.
És már úgy nézel rájuk,
a gyötrődőkre hogy ugyan,
az én gyerekem a kútba esett,
pedig befedtem,
de cseresznyét evett,
ráállt, a kis buta,
onnan elérte a felső ágat is,
tele volt cseresznyével a hasa,
utána szakadt a nagy ág is,
amibe kapaszkodott,
a kútba,
nem bírta,
és ő is, ő is már csak egy fotó most
sárgul,
de mosolyog,
látod milyen szép volt?
Szépen mosolyog,
vidám kisgyerek volt,
beleesett a kútba.
Vagy valahová.
Talán nem is kútba esett,
de volt
és most nincs.
Talán csak kitaláltam a kutat.
Nem is volt befedve.
Vagy be volt, de nem állt rá.
Mindig vigyázott, soha nem ment volna a kút közelébe.
Óvatos kislány volt,
azt mondta, amit az anyukája mondott,
azt csinálta, amit mondtak neki.
Nem is volt cseresznyefa a kútnál.
Az hátrébb volt.
Hol van, de hol van akkor?
Nem is volt.
Csak kitaláltam.
De akkor ez kinek a fényképe?
Itt? Az asztalodon.
A sárgult fotón?
Mosolyog,kisdobos.
Ja az?
Az én vagyok.

 

Áttörtem az üvegfalat
és most itt állok, egyedül,
szilánkok közt törött kézzel
vérem véredbe vegyül.

The thing is though, the thing is, I vehemently, firmly believe in this. I believe in this as much as I believe in myself, and the temporary dormant status of the 'thing' was always more like a great big disbelief in the fact that  this would be failing me when it should be happening. I believe in this, not so much anymore because I want to, but because it just makes so much sense, unbelievable, how much. Actually , I don't really want it so much anymore-but I believe it should happen because its natural. And due to this underlying great seabed of belief I cannot stop trying to be around you , I cannot, until you are clear about it and maybe even after that, and why are you not clear about it? its clear, you want to make this into a permanent pending, maybe me as second best, maybe just for your vanity. But I am different, I believe in this, I believe in us, and my great big belief is solid like a fossil and precios and ancient and yes, maybe even reminiscent of a different era, or maybe only a print of something that is not alive, an extinct push,a lifeless shell forced into once soft ground.

I wish I had the courage to live a life true to myself and not the life others expected of me. I wish I had the courage to express myself. Audentis fortuna iuvat.
The future doesnt exist. This is now. The past has already happened. Follow your instincts, but what if they are fooling you? It's pefectly fine to make mistakes. But sometimes you don't get a second chance. It's okay to be terrified. Unless it stops you following your instincts. Speak up. What if you are so terrified you can't speak up? What if the what ifs stop you following all this good advice? Ah, here is the answer: Embrace travelling, oh no, its not that, Don't over analyse things. Ok. Act spontainously. Don't worry too much about what people think of you, now, that is a good one. We're all very different people, yet we are all the same. Stop wasting time on things you don't like. What if we all, those people, who are now not speakin up, would speak up and we'd all stop wasting time on things we don't like? Wives, we'd stop cookin and clearing up empty beer bottles, stinkin of stale alcohol, flies circling. Office workers, we'd stop greasin the GDP machine. Street sweepers, car cleaners, black toilet ladies-would you shit into a shit stained public toilet? If they were to stop cleaning the pubes from the piss-stained undersides of the yellow porcelain?
I think it would be great. Everyone should clean the toilet after themselves. It would be great.

All I can. Say. Is.Has. Already been sad.

Letettem melletted a voksomat, és azt sem tudom, mi vagy, de mégis, amit látok, a jéghegy tetejét, nekem elég. Maybe. I am sure. The tip of the iceberg seems enough, enough to me.

De nem erőszak,nem elég.  

Ha nincs válasz, hát nincs erőszak, de tudod, nem  feszülök már.

Én megtettem, bátor voltam, szeretlek, szeretlek ezért még jobban, hogy ezt elérted nálam, hiszek benned, jó vagy, köszönöm. De köszönöm, megköszönöm a közreműködésedet, amikor úgy érzem majd, végülis, most te jössz, nem érdekel, te jössz, én nem azért voltam bátor, hogy utána feszüljek,  úgy elmegyek, mint a kurva élet, szeretlek téged, most szeretlek, and the future doesnt exist, only mine does.

Kurva jó lenne, de tudod, ahogy mennek a napok, úgy egyre kevésbé akarom,és elmegyek, mondom, ezt tudod, ezt tudom. And you'll be catching ghosts,tryin to catch ghosts with your beautiful fingers,ghosts, you'll be catching ghosts. I love you now but I can't wait long, you know, I have to go, it is painful, and I love you, and I don’t want to leave, I love you.

But, for all, heavens' sake, you have to want it too. I am everything I have but this takes two.

 

Ennél sokkal jobban kell ezt akarnod. Egy hétvége, két hétvége, no news. Is NOT good news, hiába a tekinteted,hiába what I know. You have to want this too, this really does take two, no matter (that) I love you, I do, you have to want this, too.

 

Szép vagyok, mert nem fáradok,
szép vagyok és fiatal
nem felelek senkinek
férj-gyereknek, három nőnek,
 anyósnak, a szeretőnek,
mosógépnek,szerelőnek.
Szép vagyok mint önmagam,
és ez néha rendbe van
néha nincs
de az se baj.
Szép vagyok de vigasztalan
talán ez már nem titok
hosszú fehér nappalokon
csillagokként vágtatok.
Úgy törtetek fent az égen
mint a fényes lángölő
kár hogy nappal
soha senki
csillagokra nem vevő.

Fear is the greatest immobilizer in our lives. It's preventing us from making changes and it holds us back from really living. Fear jeopardizes good relationships and keeps us trapped in bad ones.Being afraid holds us hostage,locked  in; the smell of old convictions rotting away in the corner. The irrational fear of losing what we don't really own anyway stops us from making real choices, from realizing that we may need to turn a page.
There is no stronger emotion than fear, perhaps, apart from love, and both are devastatingly destructive.  

Do you ever sit? she asks.
Rarely-he shouts through the loud thick music, thumping in the downstairs of the bar.
Why?
Why? Because it is boring.
I think its important! Just to sit sometimes. Stare into space. Recover.
They shout to each other, sitting close, bending to talk straight into each other's ears, smiling at each other like kindergarden friends finding each other in the sand pit after the afternoon snooze.
Are you afraid?
What?
I think you are afraid of surprises.

----------------------------
the same conversation, months later

Are you afraid? -she asks, with slight annoyance
What?
You're afraid. You are afraid of me-surprise, than anger in her voice.-I can see it on you!
No answer.
I don't want to be with you! I don't want to be with you for even an hour!-she really is shouting by now, and he still doesnt say anything, just bowes his head. She is really desperate for something, a sign, that indicates what she feels is not true. With her desperation, her anger grows.
I'd hate to think I am intimidating-she says now, with more peace, almost to herself, as if she has just noticed something, little surprised, even.
They sit in silence.
Yeah, I think you should go-he says.
She gets up, stunned. Looks at him, with a mixture of bewilderment, hurt and amazement. She doesnt even put her shoes on, just picks them up by the heel, grabs the handbag. Shoves the papers into the bag, doesnt close, doesnt matter. Starts crying, on her way out, big, fat tears painted black by mascara, rubbed to blurry black clouds on her cheeks. Lame with the lock, it takes minutes for her to get out, desperately trying to hide her big, fat, muddy tears. When she finally gets out she doesnt walk, she runs, runs up the road, never mind the winter, its mild, she runs, runs, until her eyes burn, and her tears stop, and than she realizes she's been running without shoes all along the busy street, full of Christmas shoppers.

--------------------------------

Loud, thumping music in a downstairs nightclub. Pretty girl, and a clearly very charming boy, older than the rest of the crowd. Both clearly drunk, though seem to be in control. Her dress is stained by alcohol and whatever,she stands, he sits. She stands in front of him. Clear sensation of glory, sweet glory on her pretty little face, happiness on his, bundles of trumpeting joy,triumph, and, most of all-unbelieveable luck.
 

One decision. That's all it takes,
and you go off straight  the rails
that have been laid,
 for you.
One decision. And you pay
the savings of a life away
no matter how well you have done
after all it'll all be gone.
One decision ,if there you fail
you fail your own life, cast away
all the trials of the day
you drift and than you go astray.
one decision and it bounds
thumping loud bang of the crowds,
neverending deadly cries.   

Heads bowed, arms folded they sit on the bench in the small triangle square near the lovely Sorbonne area, streets full of students and surprisingly few tourists, warm continental november rain, enough to dampen the air but the seats are only slightly wet.  The greenery, tiny ornamental trees cut to ball-shape, like in some old-fashioned Disney cartoon. The stuffed bars flood people and blue neon, people coming and going, chattering,tipsy laughter growing.
They sit in silence, absorbed in thoughts. She is thinking now, how unfair this is, and that she must not push,she can't direct this time now, there is no stage, scenery or music and she hasn't even got the character under control, so she'd better be herself. Say only things true and pure of stage. And now she finds, that if she looked at this honestly, if she truly looked into herself ,she had nothing, absolutely nothing to say. Because she only wanted to speak if he wanted to listen and she only wanted to speak if he too had something to say because otherwise there was nothing new, and the rest, the rest she knew already.
Maybe another time, he said,finally.
Maybe in another life,said her, feeling the heavy metal sadness sitting onto her chest from the outside, gathering around her like the heavy white clouds surround mountains on sunny days. Or in an other dimension, she smiled to herself, swallowing painful bites of thick damp air parisienne.
They sat for some ten minutes, amongst crowds and flashing stripes of  smokey purple dancefloor lights that sifted through the now throbbing music of midnight French disco, and then they sat off, back to the old lives, alone in the tight grip of 30 squaremetres rooftop space, and him, alone and lonely inside the cold distance of his partnership revised.

-------------------
You're frightened.-she says, trying to sound convincing, but even she can hear her voice losing its persuasion, growing squeaky and mousey only in the lenght of three words. Nevertheless with none to lose,she strokes his forehead with her index finger. He  pulls away with a sudden violence of a movement. She laughs, or rather, tries to laugh, embarrassed but still a little hopeful.
Do you ever think about us?
No I don't. There's nothing I want to say about this.
She laughs again, now softly, with disappointment in the tone.
You need to get out, she says.
Dont pull a Gregers on me. Sort out your own life.
My own life?!
He lookes at her, eyebrows raised.
But you are in my own life!-her tone is little high pitched now, yet trying to contain herself.
Stop it. Stop it now, he says,and turnes away.
---------------------------
Fear is the greatest immobilizer in our lives. It's preventing us from making changes and it holds us back from really living. Fear jeopardizes good relationships and keeps us trapped in bad ones.Being afraid holds us hostage in our own steamy room, perhaps with the smell of old convictions rotting away in the corner. The irrational fear of losing what we don't really own anyway stops us from cleaning those corners, from realizing that we may need to turn a page.
There is no stronger emotion than fear, perhaps, apart from love, and both are devastatingly destructive.  

The worst thing is when you become someone you don't recognize anymore.

My mother was sad. She was not sad about anything in particular,she was just a person with great sadness around her all the time. She would, of course, never be considered sad, even by people close to her, her friends or her own mother-in fact she was rather admired for the fact she is always happy and cheerful with "such problems". Here problems were-well first of all,  me, and the fact that she was on her own. She did not really have real hardships, went on  2-3 week holidays yearly, without me, and occasionally did go out and have a good time-sometimes even too good a time, if you ask me. Therefore, her problems were not grave or serious and she knew this very well. She was just another one of the millions of single mothers workin a full time job she found difficult to find pleasure in, not much help in the great big city, and a babysitter who treated her as if they still lived in feudalism-chit-chatty  but only until time was up, tryin to cheat her out of extra money and pretending she adored me. We all knew she did not. But  the girl kept her word and she was on time and my Mum could not take up another front for fights. She wanted status quo, no extra hassle having to explain why she let her go or to find another babysitter maybe just as bad as the previous one.
For she desperately needed one.
As her most treasured moments in life were those without me. Either when she was on her own or amongst the ring of  man who adored and wanted her, would do anything to have her and she would do anything to keep the situation like that -on the level of wanting, never having, as she was afraid nobody would want to have her for good.
All this was not because she didnt love me.
She did.
But she was sad with me. And in many moments, she regretted having me-a failed try at a life so called normal, with a guy who you could hardly call normal as he was much less normal than my mother, as my mother was absolutely normal but just not average, while my dad was actually seriously mental. We never really knew what was wrong with him. We dont really talk about him, or the reasons why she loved him,like she said she did indeed love him. You'll never know, as , you see, with my Mum, you"ll never know, if this time she is being honest , really-she was really loveable when she did that, when she was honest, by the way-or she is pretending to be honest but playing the martyr card, or not even pretending.
So she was sad with me, because she had to be with me, because she had me, she has been sad since the day I was born, the day of no turning back. She was probably sad before too-but my birth has proved to be the most convenient as she could project all her sadness and suddenly there was a cause for it just as well. She was stuck,she was stuck with me and she realized it only as I squashed my sticky head out of her below. She must have been sad before, cause all that sadness in her eyes , that must have been years' sadness, culminating in some kind of eternal sadness. She must have been the sad child, the one who everybody found adorable, never any trouble, discreet and diplomatic, not requiring any attention as she was wanting all that missed attention now, she had to make up for it, years of being ignored, eliminated, terminated, cancelled by everyone, nobody made her feel wanted, nobody made her feel loved. And she dreamed of a different life, where all she was is wanted, the object of desire, and it was up to her to keep everyone at distance to keep desires desires, and not becoming possessive , as that was her idea of anyone going closer than far.

This could be a problem.
This could be the case.
This could break my heart.
This may make me race.
This might make the news,
This will draw the line,
but this wont help me through,
coz this just might be mine.

This was one good night.
That's your point of view.
This was just one night,
with this now you are through.

This would be the end.
So you did decide.
Now you walk away,
ruins are left to mine.

And I'm free to just lie down
In cold and wet white grass
Concrete under head
This will never pass.

I can dig deep holes
Make castles out of sand
Waves wont tear them down
but nothing else would stand.
Like nothing ever stays
that has been built on fools,
I am now  but one,
..................................

  And I can scratch bare walls
chip my nails no end
bang head against pink stone
and shout ... ..........
but skin splits by the glass
low swords cut cords now
you think you'll be (pull through) unharmed
and this I can't deny.


06/2012-unfinished

Aviation

Guide them through the sand
Aeroplanes fly low
pick them up above
and ahead we go.

Moon sand go bright blow
Planes without the flight
Pilot refuel slow
do it on the go
aeroplanes that stop
are only good for foe.

It will not pass.
It will stay always.
It will go only
When you go away.

You'll lose  weight,
you'll lose  light.
You'll lose  pain,
you'll lose  life.

Its partly fear
its partly pleasure.
its your kin,
will last forever.

You'll lose weight
you'll lose light.
You'll lose the pain,
you'll lose the life.

I remember,member,ember
amber
I remember,member,member
I recollect,I collect
shells from beaches
snails from wet grass
dust from shelves
and I collect
memories for the album
for times
from times long gone
from stone and sand
from seasalt
from pier
from colored neon down the mall
rusty red wire.

Wind is the air in your lungs.
Flower is a petaled plant. It blooms.
I never bloomed (yet).
The earth was soiled.
A bud of success frozen
it didnt ever open.

I reclaim now, I claim this pothole,it is fertile, it can drink.

I record. Strictly noises only.
I rely. I remedy. I relive my redundancy.
I'm reluctant to relocate,
I remain relieved.

I will be who I will be who I will not
will be
not the one I thought I'd be
not the one I hoped I'd be.
I am who I will be I am already

I blossom like fire
I bloom like day
I bend like wire
I turn like May.

And I turn and fire and shoot and reload.
And turn and fire and reload again.
Blood trickles from gun,
spreads evenly,
life's just begun.
 

Its one of my pointless daily walks
drifting face down, eyes on pavement.

Step only between lines between tiles you must not step on the lines between tiles!
The stone is cast the Gods are reckless.
No dont you its foolish you're fool!
the daily superstition must loom.
my animal brain that renders only.

Do girls have to be smaller than boys?
A couple defies, deny by living.
Inertia at work, alive when aside.
Cornucopias of desire for space,
for better room to breathe in.

09/2012

Morning

opened
the eye
closed
the blind
fabulous
venomous snake
from behind
spicy smell.

lid half opened
eyes half closed
door slight ajar
jaws in claws.


01/10/2012

Brush of reality

In my world no room for dreams
In my world there's  only sun
In my world  no place for liking
In my world  world's just begun.

In my world  no room for uplift
In my world  fight speed and run
In my world  no such as average
In there the bolts just came undone.

My world its nothin its all its none.
Its only empty colors hum.
Water filled with tanks and petrol
Fingers  without  hand or arm
Forests holding ample great hills
In my world worlds just begun.

09.2012.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Fuckin cliché.
It goes like this:

Today is the first day of my life.
When  I could be dryin under sun
like a prune, unpromising
but juicy June.
I could be sweating Bacardi
under wet sheets
under palm trees.
I could be cryin,drink beer
with the moon,
you'd come soon,
child sleep in tent,
heart ready
for rent,
smoke exhaled.
I could be throwin
acrylic paint
ruin the house
wont it be nice.

it makes me angry
all the time
all the clichés
down the line
the riverline
the riverbed.

Worthwhile does are plenty.

had to grow up twice
maybe even three times
had to give up my eyes
many times
open close close open wise.
the poetry it entails
to deliver it fails
to discover the trails.
a promise is not a bloom
from a basement room
you cant zoom
the sky.

 

Where's the boy I used to know?
His future's on the radio!
All those girls could come and go
I was there.

The boy I met a long ago-
strange haircut and a glow
but me I oriented slow
Silly.

but you remembered and I came
but all was left a torch and cane
would not hurri
cane.

the boy is cold like circus fire
the girl from somewhere-iron wire
echoes distant
hearts are churned.

A jó az mindig élhetetlen
A semleges az élhető.
Így épülhet fel feletted
Sok csillagos
Szép tető.
Így gyűjthetsz be kandallódba
Szép nagy
szálfa rönköket,
megvárod még
kint a hinta
szél napokat
döntöget.

Már visszanézve sem látszik a nyár.
A felejtés  a tájra jár.
Egyedül vagyok,
Vizet taposok.
Jeget török.
Falat rakok.
Terméketlen földet vetek,
Szelet aratok.
Emberek!
Veletek vagyok.

Being sceptical
defends from disappointment.
Also, it averts
joy.
Look behind your back always.
It prevents from being
attacked.
It also gives
permanent
neckpain.

Attacks could
sometimes
come from the front.
 

i am light
bonfire
different shape
and size
every hour

no matter what I do he doesnt love me

however hard I try he doesnt miss me

are you gonna wonder these streets forever?

will you be walking lone for ever?

its a high price payment to be happy

its a high price payment being free

freedom and love dont coexist

at least not in my case.