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  • NOBLE POETRY  

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    Author: Norbert Tasev

    I was born on November 30, 1983 in Budapest! I studied Hungarian history at ELTE-TFK, BTK; history teacher. I'm editing ebooks! So far, I have published my volumes on Publió and Publishdrive as part of an author's book publishing!



    Poetry

    GRABBING COURAGE


      
    Now I should be a little afraid if I show courage and measure myself once. I stand on two tongues of scales; how much do my actual sins show? And was I the only one who made a mistake?! Among traitors and accomplices, who else could have entered the same place twice? A crowd of aggasytans wandering in the wrong place, at the wrong time, even toddling. – I can already know for sure about my pain wound to the soul, which could have hurt me or even died.

    I have been guessing for a long time and I can know what percentage is true, how much is just a copied appearance. As often as two words were cowardly withheld: Loyalty and Honor –, I would even tattoo it on my forehead; I'd rather stay a coward – but capable. Festive, holy bacchanalia and carnival have all passed over my head, so I remained the Sisyphus man, who tried to create and strive to create in the midst of difficult and difficult burdens.

    Hedgehog, who was a...

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    WALKING WITH EXISTENCE

     

    Let's say on the half of the path of Life - we don't even notice it - self-confessedly, like in front of a jury, thick and dark, the uncertainty and the doubt; is their life like an example, valuable life so far?! At the same time, everyone senses with horror: the still chattering, yet curious child has grown up, who has lived in the land of fairy tales until now.

    Adult?! No way! And it has already been quite decided that he can never break the secret fabric of his lived spells, which has now been ingrained in his rich cells. He stands in front of a crooked mirror, in which another, perhaps more honest Self, or even Kornél Esti, shows him distorted-grimace, and while in his night dream spotted and scaly monsters are walking around in his soul, a controlling holy Star is set on fire by his loved ones so that he dares to take the risk of Being again, to see if this can also reach, like an enthusiastic traveler to the stars of the cosmos.

    ...

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    CLOSED


      
    All I wanted was for a single and eternal moment to stop, like a finger held up, the silently rolling cog of being. They made a hole in action and in action by the useless trials of days. Their deliberate blindness has long been drawn upon themselves – in vain every pretended, direct word of help on social networking sites, if a coveted sum of money gets stuck on the way. Great heroes, Prophets, if any, were wiped out by the Infernal fiasco of materialism.

    It doesn't matter today whether a common, vital affair or a cultural exclamation point matters at all: a single word shines in anointed-hypocritical glory, hand in hand with deceitful, lying promises even to the simpler ones who can be deceived! -He comforts me with fictional luxury dreams, propaganda-sounding slogans at the same time, he keeps me on tabloid channels in public displays cheesy-faced, fit-out macho, cheeky, rude bum-jerk.

    It is necessary to laugh, because for...

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    SNAPSHOT SCISSORS

     

    The XXI. modern creations of the 20th century: Glamour, Fasion Week fashion-trend galas in all quantities. There are no World Shouts, the seventy-seventh Cannes Film Festival, and more and more unpleasant, superficial Janus-faced minutemen who are only excited by themselves. Grimacingly famous - The whole gathering series of Nobody, who have already forgotten so many happy-sad ordeals of their sad childhood; The duels of dragons, sorcerers, and witches, so that they themselves became liars and two-colored Medusa heads. They have already exaggerated the massive masks of stereotypes; thin pearls of truth are crumbled by the diva who sincerely tears. "My dear young lady! The killer combination of collagen and botox will be too much! The bikini line is still visible!"

    Although - it is possible - that he is only pretending very effectively. Here, love, love, the hidden, superstitious Apocryphal recognition of movements and looks, when two wounded hear...

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    INWARD SPRINKLING

     

    The withering splashes of the soul-form turtle are challenged by the rose-yellow squint of the setting Sun; the chirping of birds - not so much -, an army of blind, mouthy nobodies locked in the shells of rhapsodies, razor primitives kicking onion eggs in the wasteful Time.

    The Dutch leaders of the bubbly twilight planet are gradually encircling our distorted, petty fears. Slivers of light will nudge my feet as Dawn approaches. Even so, one would have to get into a red-painted elevator box to take it down to the ground floor, even if it seemed claustrophobic.

    Soon our heads will start to boil again because of Summer; atomic-sized light is blinding, while we can sweat at forty degrees. The sebaceous fat will squirm between the unsightly tissues of the fleshy tissues, while others can't wait to get undressed. The wind gets into more and more rubbish in the city of Nineveh, the brainwashing of standing poster ads will continue for some time. The...

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    IN A SURREALIST DREAM


     


      
    A familiar, suffocating mass of uneventfulness drastically overwhelms everything. It's chewy, stretchy, and chewy, which sticks everywhere. Compromising betrayal is already rotting on the creaky donkey ladders of careers. Visceral career desires could not even wish for profit and prosperity. You see brainwashed punks and Indian heads everywhere. Even the pledge of an uncertain future. You can't even follow the simplified connections of simple, bare existence from the self-showing, screeching noise.

    A new, trampled, more brutal measure of enforcement could soon develop. "I can no longer believe in anyone's selfless benevolence!" I used to have enough to do with the camps of those who betray themselves with a calm heart. At a single honest emotional point of intersection, which is still humanly acceptable in changing situations, in petty risks, I cannot accept frivolous assignments, promised hints, ju...

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    SALTY-STOWNES

    A balding lump on the top of his head - an intermediate figure that looks like Nobody's; he is still waiting for the blood-red dragon-Sunset, to see if he will send the welcoming silver stars to him. He got the Tooth of Time as artificial teeth, because he had to run from the loud noise of slaps. When the truth-telling speech was still knowable and understandable, that you can be a friend in this world and not an orphaned enemy - the meaning of the bands now emerges in crusty bands; it's a real time-crash going on out there.

    Shame and humility seemed to be more and more transparent, airtight and breathing. Massive mass meteors are approaching cosmic bricks. It's lucky that in outer space - at least - a permanent state of weightlessness prevails, otherwise the personal trainers down here would be eating the brush. And maybe the opposite pair of thin-fat, tall-short, rich-poor, successful-starving would never have been so obvious! The frightened barking of a dog ...

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    MAY REFLECTIONS

     

    No matter how long the path destined to the great unknown infinity takes, the Soul of Man is both a wing and a root, which - in many cases - rather permanently pulls it back. At the end of the road, our Janus-face is only torn away by the wasteful Hangman-Death pagoda. Perhaps all weight-carrying heaviness will disappear and disembodied cells, molecules and ash material will balance out.

    Perhaps no one can yet know whether the uncertain future will be a human-shaped one, since in the early days, the minutes only train those of humans on thin, severable strings. Would Diva ladies who expect an easy left turn notice the vulnerable eternal child in the other?! Although maybe it's just a selfish way of taking care of themselves while they can. The sleep of tunnel-boring earthworms is also put to sleep by indifferent tunas, saying; "We'll get to that for centuries to come!"

    - The wing-biting generations, who are only interested in th...

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    CONSULTING


     
    Don't look at the intersections, which have been run through by rampant ropes of ivy, and rosehips and bloodstains can damage the tracks of your long-traveled soles, and before you will be small inconveniences and the memory of bumps, like a locked beaver-dam, in the annual rings of fragile life paths, try to find what can be said, the Essence, which plowed furrows on the faces, broken, truncated, flaming in the embittered eyes. In unknown landscapes, be yourself a little bit: Independent and Free, think about sure and tangible roads that are related to long-lived, veteran-looking mountains, and look carefully at the small grooves of rock-worshippers.

    The much-tried Time, as a caring sculptor, polished and trimmed them perfectly! If you watch people, don't just stare at them, look at them with googly eyes, mesmerized, - but watch out for the nutty brilliance of eyes, the melodious fragility of voices, the melting heat of sighs that fill the fa...

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    FUNDAMENTALS OF DETERMINATION

     


    Existence stutters, like a few-month-old crying baby who needs to be comforted, because he feels that nothing is right in this world. Man wastes himself. At first, he only divides his strictly assigned, nerve-wracking weekdays into parts, and then he soon realizes that the upcoming birthdays, Christmas, and other holidays mean nothing to him. Now nuclear powers watch over total chaos, sharing the minds of more than eight billion industrious ants; vulgar illusions manipulate each individual.

    It's like he's deliberately allowing himself to be bribed! As if twenty-four hours, and even a lifetime, are not enough to get to know the other, can we trust them? Do you love faithfully for yourself?! In order to achieve anything in the present, we have to leave ourselves a little. It is not salivary obscenity, smeared cynicism, or good-sounding radiance that determines who is likeable, with whom we exchange a few friendly words based on directness.

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    TYPE OF FINAL DECREE

     

    I imagined my death. Like when they gave thirty silver coins to the handsome, smiling Executioner, who wrapped the noose and rope around my neck and hung it on the gallows, and then kindly even nodded, but he only made a unanimous decision. Like the man who betrayed Him after dinner - who knows why. Like that tamed good friend who betrayed me countless times back then and I could never know the real, known reason, you. why did he do it?! Even now, the one-Beloved is radiantly beautiful, her blessed motherhood beautified her more and more; it shines with an unearthly holy dignity. She sheds a few orphaned tears.

    "Was I better than these?!" I ask, questioning myself until I decipher the true meaning of my wretched mortality. It is curious, but the time of foreign onlookers leaves the ceremony early. ; my child - of course - will be the last to wait for his turn, and he will tell me in his own words about the problematic parenting: "What and ho...

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    AUTOMATA-DREAM


      
    Cowardly sacrifice or sneaky regret?! "Halfway between these two concepts, the insidious tyranny came back into vogue." In the flickering darkness of a star-moment, they grope for each other, until the totally determined loneliness cannot be born. It would not be appropriate to force anyone to their knees now; prophets, intellectuals, every time, at the same time, correspond to the orders of the age, if they have been faithfully wounded by the rule of brainwashed tyrants.

    Nowadays, only one version is the decisive authority: they try to find the possible scene of angel-freedom in pimpled dirt: when and which one? While you can! Even those who consciously lived above the abyss are now consciously committing suicide by pulling their ears and tails in! Today, knowledge and ignorance choose separate paths for themselves, be it business dealings or primitive production.

    The mouths of minds that want to think are rather locked out ...

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    TIME-WASTE

     

    On Age's table, Time-crumbs are now scattered everywhere; it is not possible to determine exactly who, when, dares to put how much into his own pocket! Poisoned, mischievous little ants are constantly carrying and carrying around day after day - eventually all the bottomless barrel-pockets will soon be empty. Small trouble-soaked grids are holding, grinding hearts, career paths that devour strained nerves are no longer favorable to the average person, nor are bones - but manipulative interests are gnawing at his everyday life.

    Can anyone sit down at the set, free table, or only the branch of V.I.P. guests who are always invited themselves?! Even so, there is more to the circumcision than the profit that barely went to the teeth; while staying inside, sharing is hardly possible in Ninn. In poisoned lives, where does the free spirit and thought arise?! They hardly speak for people now, as they did in the past, when tiny peoples lived peacefully and beaut...

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    GREETINGS TO MY MOTHER

     

    While you examine and carefully weigh the affairs of the soul. You are as pure and elusive as the word around the golden axis of thought, which never names you. You have worked for a lifetime from dawn to dusk, and yet, after so much suffering, you always wanted to put it right , which can still be on this blind star.

    You framed my eyes with your face, my mother peeled and robbed from the placenta-womb of your attraction, your unwisely guilty son; you were the first to comfort me in my bawling cries because you took care of me.

    Alas, I can never forget, with a soul pregnant with nightmares at night, when I was scared by monsters and lead ores, it was you who quickly ran into my nursery and caressed my panting head like a baby doll.

    Alas, I will never forget how you went on foot to get medicine in the icy, devastating Zsivágó storms when I became sick. I can never forget the sound of your typewriter, the sea-deep world of s...

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    CARDBOARD CITY

     

    A huge giant metal worm clatters and squirms above the landlocked city of Nineveh; The heavy ore block of nights is often rolled on us by Sisyphusian trouble and pain. The scary train station seems like an abandoned lost place: the cawing of ravens oozes soggy mercury. I feel ice-cold sweat, every day my mind is straining like a razor-sharp ax. I already understood your good secret apocryphal signs, World: I learned the ancient lesson of terrors and fears, which at the dawn of my childhood haunted me forever, and no matter where I ran, no human being helped me.

    I see bruised stragglers marching hesitantly as a mass of people over the dark waters of Time. The restless Spirit often rings Incompletely, empty, like a deserted cellar line; if you're not careful, you can turn into free prey. Even the talking walls digest waste in silence. Only one escape is possible: Imagination or moving out. You can rarely chew through Hangman Time with hollow teeth. The b...

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    THE WANDERER LOOKS IN THE WINDOW

     

    The lasting era of reflected light - see! He greeted us with his plumes. Plato, Aristotle - not so much - are no longer seen as landmarks of cultures, but the wretched people of modern times. A diamond imported from bloody Africa clings to their gentle hand, which they can sell for good money on the black market, while in their other hand they have the keys to luxury sports cars jingling, which they can use to conquer one dream diva after another.

    And don't let anyone ask how, how, or from what?! Positioning, artificial, nail-biting manipulation are the essence here, nothing else! Otherwise, anyone will insult you and even trample on you! I would say that for a long time I too have been paralyzed by helpless shock that in our current dirty world something like this could happen at all; CD-recognition turns into a lousy mirror: Man-Man sells, cheats, bribes, kills!

    Behind me, Existence stutters like a speech impediment. In front of me is the u...

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    ANTI-REPUTATION

     

    But it would be good if the World and Life in it were not an everyday pathetic Paradox! Truth and Love should never suffer tolerantly, and everyone can be sure that the Good and the Noble can always receive their deserved reward. There, it would surely be easier to become redundant, invisible, so that only those who are humanly worthy of it can see the real values.

    Every finding could be a kind of pleasing recognition, which can be held on to even if hands drag you into bottomless depths, watched over by a gloomy army of orphaned exclamation marks. Because Man - if you are not careful - already sees himself as the last crumb in any case. Other people's expectations prevent him, if necessary, or not, from fulfilling his dream job by arguing to the bone, and it is not even certain that the premium increase can be his at all.

    The complexity of a broader confusion can no longer be traced only in brainwashed heads, but in the malleable instincts o...

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    BAD LUCK PECH

     

    My friend! You are better off if you choose a special mask for yourself so that they cannot see your truer self. The world is now full of brainwashed, superficial buffoons, like soldiers who want to be seventy, low-style celebrities, and no one cares about your kind of poet-life people, who still believe that higher, nobler ideas can exist. Love hearts need that lock just as much as they do dulled, bribed lives.

    The eternally flattering Balek, who is always looked down upon by the given Chief Executive Officer, is no longer cool or chic; and although one way or another, it still goes on incessantly, because oiled ass licking is in vogue with thousands, and the whip only cracks if you are not appointed to a more profitable, affordable position, but a bigger ass! In the land of carved, statue-like Adams and Eves, what is the need for complex thoughts when someone else is thinking above your head?!

    - And while the cage-level life-and-death fight is ...

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    Fluttering chestnut eyes


      
    Your Baby-faced, Creole-brown chestnut eyes are no longer a nickname. I should be happy and satisfied that your life was able to find the right direction. Your feigned happiness - which was secretly and faithfully yours, could not be reconciled with your being hidden from everyone, like a winner-loser theater performance!

    You were once an angel in my eyes! Remember this! It was for you that the Cyclops one-eyed Sun rose from his bed, and for you he bled into the twilight with heroic vulnerability. "Now, almost everything around me is being destroyed at a deliberately accelerating pace!" While the passing away can only be a slow-motion death, because your truth-telling, folded emotions played on the strings of your golden heart beating on fraud and that's why you were structured to be cheated and liars!

    But you also lied to yourself without admitting it! You didn't change your maiden name on purpose, even though there ...

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    SPLEEN PERFORMANCE FOR EVERYDAY

     

    Rather, I deliberately hide from the nowhere, wretched World what an exiled fugitive I am, as if nothing had happened but a doomed person tried to get by, but he never found help. Where have I left the watchmen, who warn the living at night just as they warn the watch-flames of the day?! Even so, the mouth opens less and less for open speeches. However, I still don't understand root extraction, nor unbearable exponentiation, and because everything and everyone is ruled by Money - it seems - the only measure, even though my forty years have passed by now. I should have replied in my raw adolescent voice: "Dear Teacher! The

    Life requires the rules of survival, and not just logical formulas!" - It seemed that the Forest Gump self-consciousness wanted to build permanent castles out of my eternal fall. In each case, I ran towards missed and missed opportunities, until I found no one waiting for me on the arrival page. Situations that seem impossib...

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    SUMMONING COURAGE

     


    Now I shouldn't be a little afraid if I pluck up the courage and measure myself once. I stand on the two tongues of a scale; I wonder how much my crimes actually show? And was I the only one to make a mistake?! Among traitors and accomplices, who else could have stepped in the same place twice? In the wrong place, at the wrong time, he wandered like a crowd of toddlers. "I can already know for sure about the pain-wounds on my soul, which could have been wounded or even fatal."

    I have been able to guess and know for a long time how much of it is true, and how much is just a copied appearance. As many times as two words cowardly remained silent: Loyalty and Honor - I would even tattoo them on my forehead; I'd rather remain a coward - but he's capable of it. Festive, holy bacchanalia and carnival had all gone over my head, so I remained a Sisyphus-man, who tried and tried to create and create amidst heavy burdens.

    A hed...

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    GLOSSY IN SEMI DARKNESS

     

    You would most like to leave the city of Nineveh a long time ago; just admit it calmly! Many times you gave up on promising promises, because you thought you could still hope for a more livable way of life, an arranged comfort zone. The crammed, canned neurotoxins of everyday life spews out a stream of battered people, sometimes a few drunken jerks who just live in the big world, while the low-income earners pay hefty social annuities.

    You are clutching rusty keys in your hands on purpose - it could be - it could be the only key to your livable salvation. The fear of impermanence hitting you in the throat many times - don't deny it - has surrounded you enough times, especially if you don't always know the right answers. Between humans and caterpillars, counter-selection is quite likely, so you prefer to deliberately avoid the conflict that promises to be permanent. The key to equal distribution is grouped in wolf laws: Eye for eye! Harmony was no l...

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    SURE


      
    Nothing surprises me anymore! I listen behind the doors of the world to the wail of teddy boy voices 24 hours a day, but I only store my cherished, cherished rage to erupt again like a volcano. How did we get here?

    Is there no other way to defend yourself than a proud and indifferent audience?! For now there are smiling idiots, who easily laugh at the faculty of reasoning, whose chief occupation is to nod like chattering lambs, like those cheap and cheap Johns, — or whisper half-truths in each other's ears, till the part becomes mere truth; to cause cultural brain blindness with general obscurity and fogging, with less and less use of the gears of the brain!

    Indeed, this is the real bitter truth! Nothing surprises me anymore! Nor that, in fact, selfless and perhaps willing help, due to the cunning of some, is forced to wander in the trenches of deepening chasms, and those who want to bind up everything, heal the wounds of the...

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    Researched deeply


      
    I looked into myself as an orphan for many years, walking through my glowing lava depths. I stared at the secret, the densely saturated motivations of my heated, imaginative adolescent self with wide-eyed eyes. I tried to appreciate a giving, purely honest spawned halo light in the dear Angel who saw! If the confidential loyalty came, how I listened to his duplicated, personal secrets, the sins of other people's real and perceived frailties with the victim of a fairy hiding in his modesty.

    The killer-blade incision, believed to be ominous, gathered above my head, and yet my soul sent many tiny sparks of supplication into the darkened echo-fog of the expanding Cosmos. "Finally, even the esteemed trust of friends - as it was - began to waver and decline." My self - like a hedgehog - took spiky thistle-suba with the dawning days, when I was hurt, a stinging hurt, and then hesitatingly disappeared in uninhabited places, in the dreaded,...

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    THE SNAP STRING

     

    Almost October, rainy April. The rain is under the veil; he keeps kneading and washing his limbs. A procession of crouching, hunched people on the subway. A palpability of resigned indifference. Between gritted teeth, the supposed I-truth is heard less and less! A thousand scoundrels, if he spins ten thousand webs, but breaks like the thread. The duel of fists can never stop; senseless shackle-aggression recreates itself.

    Two pleasure-thirsty, exotic consumer ladies are standing on the street corner; their two ashy swan hands tremble from the cold; their carbuncle eyes reveal a whole World, while their cheap eyeshadow smudges. No alms, only cash if accepted. Dear Ladies! God bless you! The street flows with crowds of dirty, useless people buzzing; they would drive the daily hunger-like income, which is a real rarity, and only available to the stock market sharks and the Big Fish.

    Some lawyers glance at the deserted bus stop; it's a typical Pa...

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    SEESAW-DANCE

     

    The discarded, half-empty can of the old, pitiful World - you have to be careful! -, almost swallows him, the winds with knocked out teeth are chasing him, while in the totally closed virtual space, such wretched little people appear. On the dirty stone terrace of the city, more siserehad gangs are looting to their heart's content; The heavy trickery of the manipulations drags me along, if I let you. But many times I immersed myself in the full of secrets of the Spirit.

    Inside, a deliberately slowed-down compound of sensations thumps, bustles, and gives sage advice conceived as a devilish convulsion. The scars of his mark still itch and there is no safe ointment to find on them. The depth of sleeping senses is slowly awakening, which perhaps draws from hearsay, and that is why it is still unsuspected. The Soul should be peeled, like the skin of an onion, so that one can see more clearly, not just stupidly blindly. Surrealistic mole holes meow even in t...

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    DON'T BE OVERCONFIDENT

     

    I look in broken mirrors. Countless little worms from Alamus gather around me, hordes of wild beasts surround me; my existence is being robbed. It would be nice to take off like a foreign coat next to my ominous shadow the secret urge of Fate, which unexpectedly settled on my ruin days.

    I would carefully hide the thread of tragedies and despair through the buttonhole of what happened to me, and unfasten the iron balls of my burdened years from my limping leg. Agony is constantly throbbing in my sick heart. Worlds thought to be far away, tortured faces retreat into their molehills; man can fight with great distances even for centuries, he can fight alone without meaning.

    The past pulls you down like a benga-heavy anchor rope, because you are unable to part with your childhood, because it constantly reminds you of who you once were. Even the reefs of distances are often left behind in love, just as they are in feelings. The impossibility of goals s...

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    CROSS-HEARING BETWEEN DOGS

     

    There may be no room for anyone on the streets; confused, cacophonous hurricanes of sound make the good people stupid, a few jerk wild animals hook the mother-in-law who is approaching ninety, the flower seller asks fifty thousand forints for a bouquet of orchids. On both sides, the boundary line of shadow and Death is congested, prostituted, disfigured mannequins weep in storefronts with broken windows.

    Some thugs get out of their luxury SUV, which they park spectacularly; they are bragging and joking among themselves in their seventies. They wear revolver ball necklaces around their bull necks. The buzzing beehive pool of trophy women is regularly overturned. In the lunar courtyard of the discotheques, they sell another cool sugar cube powder, which makes the secret alchemy of the structure quite hyperactive. Eighteen-year-old street car racers drift at 240 km/h. The dog fair parade took place again on the market square: Was there only once a dog fair in...

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    KNOTS OF TRIALS

     

    Have you ever been told that you have a bad approach to things?! Not the betrayal of the unattainable, unwinnable Happiness, nor the series of gawking, ass-licking accolades, the cheap success-hunting attitude measured in a fraction of a moment, - only the complex relationships of Being are really important. Just this current day, when neither dementia nor Alzheimer's have yet infected the channels of your brain.

    Only the laughing laughter woven from true pearls on the lips of your Beloved would be important, the lazy, buzzing indulgence in the shadow of immortal Loves. Only pity is important, humility, only painful beauty, with which you can follow the coordinates of fleeting things and memories for a short time, wondering where, where did they go?! Only the struggling perspective of everyday life is important, what else can stay by your side, and who will become their traitors?!

    At measured intervals, they also arrive at your house regularl...

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    EXAMPLE OF RELATIONS

     

    Looks like you've had enough of the World. But in such a way that you would prefer to tie yourself to the very first tree, or take medicine that works without pain. You can work, you can sweat so much that you are tired of self-loathing, knowing that nothing will change, even if the hell eats, you won't be able to get ahead of the slouching, slouching, slouching Stróman candidates. You are well past the middle of your life; you wanted to hold on, but you preferred to let them hang on wherever they could.

    Your peace of mind would be better ended by a true reckoning to yourself; wandering from one Existence to another as an eternal stranger. Your soul - even if it's not so inferior, commissar - sooner or later, like the raw snake skin, it will peel off to the bone. Unexpected outbursts and desperate acts line your routes at every age. If you don't pay enough attention, the sour milk will just bubble up in your throat, but the harmful b...

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    UNLOCKING TRUST

     

    The One-Somebody might be waiting for you somewhere. Satisfied, happy-sad moments await somewhere. Somewhere - you can know, because you can feel it - a strange-secret cogwheel is turning around your Life; a motionless glass ball in which you are also inside, not just a group of wretched minute-men ready to joke around.

    Somewhere, the music of the squinting raindrops hits between the symmetries of your face, and the sure suspicion, like the heartbeat of a bud, feels the fulfillment of immortal romances in the body of the other. It is true that Time's deluge of executioner-smelling water has often unfairly swept you away and crushed you; in your clumsy, stumbling, hesitant movements, there was always the preordained useless impulse to defend yourself. The sign of Sagittarius is constantly evolving and changing - and yet Fate has never been kind to you.

    It would be nice if someone else would pay attention to your water-sounding taps inside. Be ...

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    LIMITS OF PROPORTIONS


      
    With clenched, abscessed, snarling teeth, like a long-suffering one who settled for life and pain forever, searching for the cognizable puzzle, I am chasing and chasing the hidden riddle every day, moving through infinity. And because the honest, glowing weight of passion binds me and keeps me captive in a curious hunger, I search for the secret spiral lines of the knowable proportion.

    The proportions: the real, the secret, perhaps even invertible, which trembles at me in the inner wildness of the soul, incessantly visible and legible, and flickers there with its midsummer lights behind the solidified forehead of reason; my brain is still slumbering silently in the tunnels of my brain, - but you can always know your mission things if you have to confess! – The melancholic clash of the invisible depths in the open is stretching the limited, half-finished envelopes of my destiny. My transparent, crystal-clear eyes, who look in without sparin...

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    IT IS BASED ON INTERESTS

     

    The longest preparation in a lifetime; clinging to hearts, Who on Earth were you?! Where did you belong? Who helped you? Who raised me from the dust of yellow lands, when did the need call?! I wonder how many true friends you could have left on one hand?!

    Even though they are playing outside - so many devil horns are visible: it's good to see, even if they don't want to; deceit and a hidden bed in which many people lie. Fate designates the paths we must follow, and against which, no matter how much we want, no one can do anything, no one can rebel.

    Rhymes and fist shakers flocked here again. The age of Caesars usurping the throne between sullen faces will last a little longer.

    I'm sorry man - your manipulated face doesn't look warped; a mild insanity burns beneath your deep dark eastern eyes. Your obsession that you can have a pension, insurance, and happy old age can no longer be protected by any amount of money, since ...

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    NO NETS, NO ROPES


      
    The filth-waterfalls of obscene, ugly-speech come out of the mouths of girls' cat-wicked-cows after being whipped and then splashed out; cascades of flame-spitting words follow each other, while they themselves laugh a rainbow of sounds and tastes drunk from the cheap promises of success and money. Because all compliments, niceties, and romance have become nothing to be thrown away - and nowadays time is bleeding early in the swamp of difficult, bittersweet weekdays.

    In life, a careerist dream can rarely be trusted again, if even a spark of hope claws at wounds and spits ashes instead of empathy and tolerance. A rough blanket, or just a Canossa mockery, would fit the current existence, which is bleeding from more and more wounds and is always irrelevant.

    Every sly, false movement, fluttering of eyelashes honestly bleeds. Today, no one can rely on himself; he is lured by stupid career dreams and fools his deliberately brainwashed mi...

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    FALLING BEING SEQUENCES

     

    Behind me, the outlines of the beginning Summer are already visible on the emerald-colored trees. I carry in the ancient cave of my breast the ticking minute of the atomic bomb, which may perhaps be equal to the last judgment. The light-germs of visions are fading in me, and I still can hardly understand whether I was a regular passenger-guest passing through this globe, or just a tolerated Stranger?! It is like a map of veins in bodies, and the uncertain Fate, which no one can know, runs through it.

    My life is already empty like a bucket, the thirsty time has come. The law of the world urges him to go far, just like most restless wanderers, who do not yet know where, where - but set off on a long, distant journey alone. How suddenly the terrible loneliness of orphanhood appears in my eyes.

    Being in infinite Time is nothing more than someone who looks up at the sarcastic facts of everyday life. then it falls into the dug cesspools of ravines. I c...

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    UNFULFILLED PHRASES

     

    I will fall into a bottomless abyss into eternal night.I've lived so much to be afraid of... Don't add to my agonizing fears.My heart is pestering lm lying in wait is vulnerability equal to annihilation if the grown-up cannot strike back?! On agonizing nights, even the bravest would make a mockery.I have been deceived a few times in the matter of promises, yet I remain a naive bona fide teenager.

    I know suckers and losers could be better, and that's what I've dedicated my ever-fearful little life to.And what we are forced to do is present and future life. And though the man-animal often betrays himself by pretending, lying, and abusing evil-alato - I cannot put up with just how certain death is.I cry out to the leftover intellect for fool's gold the world cannot be trusted!

    I would like to ask friends to talk about the uncertain fate, if it exists: send some secret, apocryphal sign into my life, which makes the hard, burdensom...

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    A TROUBLED SOUL


      
    Oh, you pitiful, foolish soul! Prodigal, brooding, brooding like a hunted wild animal, you are forced to run away and hide every day. The unspeakable, experiential instinct, brooding telepathy of our words - all those who have long been tired of the incessant babbling, sputtering babbling, senseless failures would be looking for you!

    We would only quench our thirst in your insight into what our innocent being was forced to eat. Interest and treachery hide everything from us now. Like stateless, movable toy dolls, we can only linger in the shadows of uncertain tomorrows. Fearing the rampant evils of the powerful, or the maximum sentence of inhumanity, which the man blinded by his greed would measure out to us, risking our life as a waste in exchange for certain profits.

    Oh soul! Don't leave the errant vacillating and wounded weaklings in our conscience yet - sooner or later the persecutor who attacks the other with hyena claws will ...

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    SOUL DESERTS

     

    The Man is Lost The heart within the boundaries of the skin screams in rebellion, because it can hardly do anything else; his inaction is suffocating. He hides in an environment of intoxicants because he is lost because his heart is roaring, but only the mind can guess who made a mistake? But only two hearts: Body and Shadow, as if two eternal friends would hold hands in times of trouble so that they could help selflessly. Coagulated blood begins to bubble from the wound.

    Like migratory birds sitting on a tightrope, ready for the journey, the appointed years hover over my head and guess which one will go sooner? I am shocked to see what my peers have become, has the millstone-Life crushed us so much?! I contemplate my fate in them, oh, our time is running out, and death nods approvingly above them. When a thought breaks through the monomaniacal self-goal and makes you self-accuse; did it make sense to confess your love to the soul, kneeling down to see if ...

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    REBELS BURNING FROM WITHIN

     

     


    Learning from the example of unlucky travelers, I have never tried to enter those cities whose walls are staring at each other, whose fences are a multitude of words impaled next to each other. I never wanted to look, hiding behind the eyes, in such a way that the law of double trust did not exist between the contracting parties as equals. I always came on the waves of a baby's cooing, and I staggered like a demented person who can only rarely be understood. My years are rotting in the sap-smelling loneliness. Fat Stroman ponds are Greek for donkey's ladder-On the thrones of lives that take root.

    Why is it that we want something big every moment? Alas, our dreams are turned into words with a good ringing sound by one or two lurking and scrambling positions! Twenty-first century you roaring twenty-first century.

    The afternoon is already standing above me with extended wings. Time flows through me like a cool stream...

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    I DO NOT UNDERSTAND


      
    I cannot understand those for whom inactivity, smiling, wild-eyed idiocy is sweet, ecstasy intoxication, strait-jacket stupor. In Eden's paradise, sipping beer, languishing in indifference, and doing nothing in the manner of a slave. The expressionless, baby smile of indifferent, yet worldly days; value-wasted, stupid intellect.

    The exploding inactivity of deliberately relaxed bearing brains, the frivolous flouting of interests, the existence of some swamp-smelling sea-bottom mud; don't worry about what you have left to yourself, because it is still enough for others. Idle indifference is different, because for me even seeming inaction is an eternal spur to action! With his question-and-answers, he interweaves the world with his everyday information as a thoughtful newscaster. For me, the smiling idiocy is a shipwrecked consciousness floundering in the chasms of frivolity; where saws and raw materials were deliberately run out so that an...

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    HAZARD PECH SERIES

     

    Objects lie around me like a sleeping flock. This is the concentrated silence of embodied thoughts, the silence after creation, and it is almost touching, as if the first and last flames of dawn light up the dirty horizon. Only the opposite mirror has a separate life in the room. I consider him an all-knowing sage who watches my days - and squints. I am unable to truly feel at home in the changing mirror of irreversible eyes. In millstone-grinding weekdays, sleepless-eyed men, women, old places, early morning walkers walk, gaping gates, throats yawn, the street is endless, barren bridges, houses sway. The shoreless dawn calls out to its victims.

    I'd rather lean my shoulder against a door jamb and win one; I despise tricky complications. Everything has an internal law, be it antecedent or effect. The outer glaze is knocked off by the inner Spirit and my judgment cools inside me, the convulsions of my anger loosen. I would forgive everyone with my kindne...

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    GARBAGE EATERS

     

    In the homeless struggle, the deceived and manipulated Man soon leaks out, like the air. Time is slowly trampling everything, until once we could still say that it was worth something, because it had meaning and value. Too much urgent, pervasive madness, perhaps the fever of doubt is already starting to grow the wrinkles of problems and shape the soul?! Something has started, and it would be good to reform the germs of free thoughts in the brainwashed idiot brains.

    The dance of word-races of the thought goes cold even before the sounds filter and weave them into a song, because the brain is already trapped and can only wriggle. The giant of awakening has stepped out from behind the sails of darkness. Billions of ants live on the hill and do not know that there is death.

    He builds fused paradoxical figures, piles on top of each other some word-slinging patriarch and, as a joke, reaps the harvest. Be careful, because life will never be easy. We lea...

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    THE ERA IS ON THE DAILY ORDER

     

    To serve a decayed appearance Humbly and quietly, To sway day by day to the current of every little movement, To waver and fear ceaselessly, Tolerate why others have so much, while others pick alms from the trash can. The world is getting uglier, while - it may be - we are the only ones standing up as Get Up Johns. If we were blind, there is no forgiveness and we are lost without a trace.

    Now it's as if the flapping wings of the Universe are standing in the pits of cesspools... The events continue, as a bloated ore-cock walks to the podium to preach, while the milk falls asleep in the mouth of the pedestrian of silence; I'm always a little afraid, like an arthropod before the sole that steps on me, as if I have to say something at the last moment; Instincts rush in with a twist and a flutter! Are we really just born to love?! Do we have to protect ourselves from all insults so that we don't get lost?!

    Immortal loves and torments still...

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    GOVERNORS

     

    The whole world already looks like a wolf-lamb of humans-humans. On lost chessboards, the puppets are standing up and moving, - It's true - not a bit free, of their own free will. - The skin shivers, the soul feels warm, the legs carry me between the darkening trees, and when I stop, because where to go and I look up at the sky - below them Even now, Being is thundering and crashing, hypocrisy is snapping like a string.

    It's as if everything slips out of one's useless holey hands on purpose. Happy-unhappy, just like the dead-dead-dead-dead, as if it were already an empty word-magic churning, a sticky mass, from which there is no, and certainly cannot be, a recurring restart.

    In the streets, the twilight pushes its face into one's soul; the bullet-riddled brick houses, even the drunks swinging like Eötvös pendulums, would collapse and cling to each other if the mortar-concrete still held.

    The wall of the castle ...

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    PRAYER


      
    Don't be shy! Go to him! You and He are the same in your vulnerabilities. The cascade of memories of your childish self moved into him with responsibility. Like a crying, babbling little child who can only understand the gentle nanny's song that wants to rock him by hugging and rocking him, and he doesn't really know why he wants to look into the well-lit, shining lamp-eyes with his blood-streaked, broken eyeballs?

    Do you see the priceless holy qualities of his face?! Behind every tiny, carefully constructed molecule-cell, a million small humming machines control and arrange the welcoming angelic smile into an acceptable tremor, which creates a special peace and comforts with medicine.

    Wandering through strange landscapes with a state of deeply felt joy and latent pain, their carbuncle eyes speak to each other of the loves of loyalty; one of them is a wonder bug full of hesitancy and extravagance - see, he's still tryin...

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    Fallacy

     

     

    This morning I was in fetal position.Where is my place in this softened horror?!,, You can hang yourself boldly!""the loser sign says.If I could have my precious time back, which I never had too much of, I would confess to my friends the ones I really had anything to do with! Because somehow everything and everyone has become alien: objects, faces, movements, intermediate, formal-superficial gestures. You can't just trust anyone like you used to. It's like wrapping yourself in a tin foil suit with an inner, latent sense of security: Be careful, because you can only rely on yourself!"he replies.

    It is already extremely disappointing when you simply sell, sell yourself out, because you need ugly money as a kind of everyday livelihood. The murderous, careerist ambitions are slowly erasing the whole sense of it. And wild-punk idiocy becomes more toxic than the cancer of some sort of intermediate pop culture.

    Ma...

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    UNKNOWN FORMULAS

    I should move into an interior room, my furniture will be smaller from now on. You have to change to a different way of life, a different scale will now be your turn. From now on, you will only do laundry once every few months, because Persil has run out, or it has become prohibitively expensive. Because they dig in without pulling out. Little job, little income. I'm sure it's getting smaller and smaller.

    You nestle yourself, there is no fairy tale, anywhere. It feathers, looks around, and then adapts. Even if he didn't want this nest, he didn't even come here on his own, but his emotions dragged him here on a rope and in handcuffs. Shame.

    What would it be like to die wasted in a small country of cages?! Anyone who has had this will understand immediately. Narrow and dark, without comfort, cell-deep. The wall is cracked, the ceiling is starry. What if our flights are tight? If you can't even fit big or small people, hessian-middleman, money-ma...

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    LYERS OF ANNUAL RINGS


      
    All I feel now is: the noose is tight, slimy-raw amniotic membrane. A handful of my life is caught in the unexpected vice of Being. Without clouds, my life slowly separates, like a circle of congealed raindrops bursting open, help-falling lips.

    I look at the laughable life of some people, and with pitiful silence they only answer, in sympathy-renunciation: Oh! - Just unravel the cruel childhood, serial wolf fights, which is hardly visible, because it is hidden in the depths of my wounded and driven soul.

    New and new layers of age rings and prison walls are slowly being added to my face, because there was hardly anyone who could have known me for myself. - Now what could I do with my years, which were starting to expire, with burning memory footprints, which with a silent desire carved for themselves an aching otherworldly wound-bed in the pile-depths of past times.

    I am thirty-seven and a half years old, now like an octopus, ...

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    The joint hour of "this is how we are"


      
    In your eyes, the suicidal incitement of your unfortunate little orphan still settles; you have been burning in yourself from an insatiable long time ago, your convulsions do not forgive human sympathy, nor pitying benevolence! Your shy fog-gloom has not yet been able to tear off its mask from you so that it can really be recognized by more confidential loyalists.

    You can't bear the calvary drag for many days any longer; the others drive nails into your childish conscience, which you believe to be a prodigal. You are a confused hermit-ascetic, who seems to be a fakir feeling pain within himself: he would drown his pain in the tamed holy sobs of waves in the depths of a teary well - if he could. You have enough reason to roar your melancholic hysteria like a bull into the face of the world's indifference in a Jericho rage - but only if, after your self-examination cry, someone remains with you to lean on!

    Because, even if you st...

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    PHASE-SHIFT

     

    Like someone who guesses, wiser than letters, he jumps off a tower built in a well, because he hated this Hyena Age a long time ago, like someone who keeps tripping over himself while walking. blind, so silently, like the dumb, in timeless order in the appointed time, so that the sign shines forth from the present on earth.

    sometimes I am surrounded by unfulfilled friendships and sad promises from this useless, completely defective age, which I tend to take seriously. "We will visit you, old man, don't be afraid! We bring you hamburgers and Chinese food! Just don't let Life get in your way!" - they answer.

    Someday I will surely make special mistakes where we can prepare an improved edition of my being. I can fill the cracks of Time with foolish dreams without remorse.

    Looking for points of contact, I would wander like a restless Odysseus, who still hasn't found his place on firm ground. I know it well: alarming cam...

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    EAVES

     

    Now you're deep in the thin pickle, when and where is the grand finale left?! In the middle of a person's life is the profound nothingness. It is a little night weakness, a disillusioned instinct-fly, that digs among our memories. Why is it that man is kept under house arrest not only by wandering, confused centuries, but by the wretched tyrants who can be said to be self-governing?! Even the hearing aid itself looks more like a sly receiver of the world, and not a simple aid that could make it easier to hear simple vulgar words.

    If a person steps out of the magic circle: the scale stays in one place, there is no winning or losing. Here a winner, there a rags to riches, blessed and cursed, happy and unhappy. In the big world statistics, nothing will change with my exit, nor will there be a shortage or an excess, only a sacrifice.

    You can show yourself out of your relationship until the sun is up, you turn your back on compromising, false-...

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    DONKEY HORN

     

    Interpreter for us, why should you? We have already overcome language, will, shackled Nothings. Art, as a vast storehouse of thoughts, only stands or falls on the sober, age-seeking vision of a few financiers, Sugar daddy.

    This is a reality here: now an unreal delusion is mixed into it, it covers the little people and those around us, who are the first to be hit by rain, dew, pigeon droppings, by all the movements we organize.

    The big one, even the little one, rumbles like so many massive, old toilet bowls, and when thrown into them, so many rotten honey-scented pempers rumble. The taunting crowd wails cat music. I can almost feel the endlessness of their thirst, and some terrifying fear-nausea pervades, and because I would be the weakest in existence, why deny it. You are afraid in the maze.

    And new worlds beckoned me, and I went with them, Because the counterweight of innocence is experience, But there is no way back from experience. ...

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    THE TEMPTATION OF BEING

     


    Three in the morning; you just get up and stand there in the milky – white Dawn anxiety, and always that slow glow, that delusion that flows into the folds at three in the morning, lately you always feel on your face the otherworldly blue of the toilet, spaces splitting in the heart-there is no excuse for life, you say, just thrown there, it is also casual work, you wave, hope: as you imagine I'm going through a corpse stain of memories.

    But somehow I can almost understand that you are always crammed with all the information in your head that the powers of the tabloid media, which are also manipulative, want to convey to me. The outside world has become too much. At such times, the living room will change, it will have an indescribable depth.

    Objects start to mean something different to themselves. As if you had good old acquaintances, friends; you wipe the dust under them daily, the foci of a bunch of baka flakes. And you wonde...

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    REMAINS OF WRECK

     

    Because it's easier to break away than to belong to the common stars, to find a home, a needle in a pile, a hand, it releases the bugs of your existence, and to enjoy the wine road and serenity. They may be seen elsewhere, only the human eye is mistaken. It is better to be desolate, uninhabited alone, otherwise anyone ostracizes or insults; The sign of the past is beating in my heart.

    I left this serious world, but like a cat on a tin can, I dragged all my important ulterior motives behind me. It rang out after me: "Now then I should also deal with my selfish prosperity!" Renunciation is also a bit anti-death. A golden key that opens the shop door to the afterlife.

    Honestly, I guessed that the difference between hunch and knowledge is the size of a canyon? According to the leading sociographic bodies, humanity, at least the segment of it that is willing, able and able to deal with such questions, is recently preparing to transition ...

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    Deluded happiness


      
    I have played the happy contentment, the playful, silent appearance so many times that I have become a liar and accomplice of myself. Now I could finally free myself from the tormented prison hell of forced robot actions in a dignified manner and I could live a little. Restless and nervous, I search, watch myself and ask aloud: What else is missing?! I wonder where the exhausted, writhing lack can lead to and where?

    Is there something missing from me or the total, absurd world?! Why not a dream job that promises to be promising, or a small, tiny allowance? "I'm already in the position that everything has become tinsel and can be bribed." It's a caressing, puffing old lie and you're totally wondering if I fought and tried for my dreams - because you can't just pretend or feel the deceived happiness!

    And while I played the honest - true consolation in place of others in many forms - I necessarily forgot about my...

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    HIDE AND SEEK CONFRONTATION


      
    I really miss the whole security of the honest friendship of the same age. The sheltering, twilight-rich refuge of romance, the choreography and grace of movements and the uncertain awareness: Who can remain faithfully by my side in the early twilight of my life?!

    I know well now: how many hundreds of flowers drop their petals day by day; I gradually break down and renounce unattainable happiness. After all, even today, there is another fragment of Life just like that.

    Not a single recognizable look or charming movement goes by without insignificant trifles. I really miss the stubborn and single-minded bravery of the heart, the still chattering mouths are constantly suing and fighting.

    At any time, we can disappear as a paltry, meaningless figure, or as a wandering death: will there be someone left who will come with me?!

    The microcosm of minutes cries like true pearls in our eyes - I've made many people cry alr...

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    STATES OF DIZZY ECSTASY

     

    Like a rooted suspicion, I live among dead basements, shadows, superficial mortals, as if the silence is timeless...And always there and in a way where there is never a bridge, land, or island. With Aras, only bumpy roads, missing keys, over the burning signs of locked gates...

    Life learned its lesson well: I thought I was a happy beginner for years - even a few months ago! - and now suddenly an unnameable dizziness pushes me into an undesired attitude. Who else, where else could I turn to who would selflessly help me through my troubles and troubles?!

    They pushed my nose into my flimsy years gathered under me. They told me openly, so I don't get it wrong: I was in the wrong place. I'm no longer a beginner, but I don't have the knowledge to sniff out evil, like a sharp-smelling hound. In fact. But it's better to see: my reserved place among the progressives is already filled. My time limit has expired, I arrived late from watching...

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    ROW WALL OF SEERS


      
    I should be anonymous among the rows of spectators. Can there still be a faithful friend, a loving Dear, who faithfully accompanies me along my bumpy bumpy road? My shipwrecked life, playing Russian roulette over a shaky precipice, finally reveals and gives itself completely.

    I now balance like ominous times of the day - fistfuls of teardrop bitterness in the grip of an invisible palm. Blinking servant-shelter - not so much - never comforted, could send light.

    I would need new Suspension Bridges of Being so that I can hold on purposefully even alone. I've been pushed onto blind tracks many times on purpose. This unworthy, weedy, stunted Age has learned neither empathy nor human attitude without me!

    Time, like a comical patron, urges us to do something, to act, always seemingly without a response. Here, the commissar's authority is always the hair-czar, and the scientists or the well-intentioned leaders no longer speak...

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    BETWEEN YET AND YET


      
    An invisible chain is hanging over me. One eye is to be afraid, while the other is to beware. Net channels that cherish deceptive career dreams can pull the luring honey string at any time, even under the noses of others. The earthly, much-deprived, eye-protecting stigma is worth more when you can see real tears than the laughter bubbling up with fake-Maier smiles on grinning baby cheeks.

    I am like a fat spindle; I bind my shipwrecked past, my wasteful memories of desire with unbreakable Ariadne threads. I whisper into whispering ears the pillars of my honesty, the pillars of my frail life. Anyone who sold himself a long time ago and now expects profit and recognition at any price stares and stalks down here with wolf eyes.

    It is known: he remains underground, without a dream career, he can hit his ankle by the careless researcher he stumbled into. A complex pyramid of corruptible faces stares at us usurper; as if the fallible, man-mad...

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    Captivated by unknowable possibilities


      
    Halfway between the unrecognized possibilities: stretched out in space and time, gilding careers, greedily demanding, violent movements, false-handed, hypocritical idolaters rule.

    Everyone here is both statuesque and brainwashed idiots. They smile and grin into the big world that says nothing, because they can imagine that knowledge and profit can be reached and bought at any time.

    It would be in vain to move bravely, recklessly as a news-teller, or a free-thinker, if he remained alone from the beginning, because he chose the persistent, stubborn solitude.

    This current decade has been rolling along for a long time. If there is one, nowadays everyone is taking risks or just gambling with their life in a cesspool.

    We stand facing each other in silence. Friend or foe, it goes on and on. Disillusioned hopes and promises exchange fake messages with each other. In the whirlwind of Time, everyone was reduced to pitiful wax...

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    DIRECT DAMAGE

     

    Tonight, Being gave birth to a double rainbow. While I ponder in the rocking silence, the Light is slowly fading away. Out there, what kind of joke Rodosto has the World created?! below, the peace of the night will be dense with colostrum above the rooftops, meanwhile, stirring cohesion and ethics into a philosophical question of existence, squeezed together in a strange flock. After all, everyone knows by now that the Empire is rotting, disintegrating, and soon it will disappear for good...

    Philosophy didn't help today either. Hide in the walls and wallpaper of your room. "I'm beautiful, I'm strong!" Repeat it, repeat it a hundred times a day. Maybe you yourself will believe the deaf, mind-numbing mantra and finally calm down.

    Get out of here like a fugitive. Talk to mirrors, your face will forever tremble like a wretched torso. The TV plays brainwashed propaganda, a virus paralyzes your brain, your laptop. A person who is ...

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    A WITNESS TO HUMANITY

    A witness to humanity
      
    ...Because now I am tormented and hurt by the One-World, which, with an increasingly evil desire, like a thorny plague, is secretly setting up obstacles against me. Both trust and the moral order are crumbling; brother-sister steals away, wolf greedily snatches away. Where would we go next? How did we get to this point and what will be the end of this?!

    I can't close my watchful eye, which wants to testify, but there is an ugly hive of noise here now: smiling idiots arise daily out of nowhere for five minutes of fame. And what kind of human dignity can command and bring a redeeming order here? Reason and thought remain with firefly fragments only in more human brains, if it still shines. The essence of the contexts of great teaching sermons is usually lost, and the textbooks are usually filled with out-of-date falsified ideologies.

    Because all that is human and noble is born in the heart alone. Is it any wonder...

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    IMMERSIVE MUSINGS


      
    It would be nice to have more learned well-heads, gentlemen who give advice, and ladies who know their manners, if in this present age there was not a tohonya-indifference and unlivable hunger pangs: which, instead of merit and sympathy, settles for cheap humanity and enlightening thoughts.

    Those who are completely satisfied with the happiness they can find are fragile and more vulnerable, and instead of the cheap fake shop window of merits, they long for real relationships: Everything that can be understood with common sense and human reason is appropriate according to propriety and good manners!

    Because the path of this current worldly Self is now largely controlled by jerky stupidity, smiling idiocy, as well as separatist rudeness, and it is constantly tossed between mindless barbarism, and if it comes up with innovative ideas, it immediately accepts them and submits to the hypocritical rules that can be bribed!

    Now everyo...

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    CURSE OF SOCIAL INFUSION

     

    Then why did we have to go down there in the dark and damp, our nerves were strained to the point of bursting, "Now run!" - he suddenly contradicted me. At dawn, the darkness was already broken by the first lights. Now it has simply become such a day that I don't know which way is east. and I don't know what hit me in my life when I realized how big the maggots are! Now I simply don't know what the light is on and I wonder why I'm wandering like a restless Odysseus?! The elevator is falling and with each floor I can smell the raw mud more and more now everything is simply complicated.

    It grows imperceptibly in a person, just as the pathological tumors grew in me, the hidden desire that suddenly erases the distances. What is the use of knowing that all Evil is from the beginning? What is the use of knowing that they carry the end of time in vain? Man's impatience eats up all Time. Like the reflection of a homeless person in the...

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    CONCRETED ACCESS

     

    From time to time, I am surrounded by unfinished sentences that you tend to attribute to heroes of novels that have disappeared. As life is somewhat outside of time, anything is possible, and we will definitely wander into a special landscape where we can prepare an improved edition of our being; the insidious wrinkles of stress problems are smoothed out and we can fill the cracks of Time with foolish dreams without remorse.

    Maybe we don't get lost in the mysterious system of signs. Having crossed the fine line of silence, we can say anything, our words will not be swallowed by the deliberately brainwashed propaganda, the five-minute charm of minute-man blue, a few lousy seventy-something posers. Looking for points of connection, we wander among the shapes of the fine but beautiful network that is worth interpreting, because we can feel that we have made the right decisions.

    He would surprise those in front of him with sudden Indian runs and ...

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    BREAKING UP CURRENT DETAILS

     

    Sometimes the great goodness of the heart,other times the animal instincts,now life is like an age-old sediment,the dirt is freezing deeper and deeper in it.Everything from scrap, materials brought from here and there.

    All that unnecessary er?feszítés.Az it was still a terrestrial antenna, but we never managed to catch the more real texts behind the puffed-up propaganda!As in a production operetta,but only adults can understand,

    On the uninhabited islands, there really are only Stroman Hussars, and those who serve them, all the rest of the sham-bellied, squeaky-bellied Ant spawn.because there is a great temptation to abusewith him, who are looking for an easy life, although they themselves,as it turns out, are victims.

    You can start with flies crawling around in a world without humans.above the city, the phrases died out.He counted the way the clown in the Mane set the sooty rings. that at the top of the food chain,there a...

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    CURRENT, REBELLION SPIRIT

     

    It could easily have been a holy and inviolable loneliness that accompanies you even beyond the otherworldly grave. It could have been a happy and contented holiday in the dregs of my day-glory, which does not need to be reciprocated. The answer to flirtatious glances could have been romance, childish playful hesitance. Rather than the public humiliation of crocodile tears, it's more of a baby-sucking, gentle taunting. It could have been thirst-quenching longing kisses in the pitch-black, when everything else is sleeping in silence, a secret, fearfully guarded angel caress between tender ashen petals.

    It could have been a decent, simple real family and a home where it is always good to return to, to find an understanding and caring shelter. It could have been a superstitious twist, in which body to body through chemistry and desires leads to the united Allness of souls. It could have been a defenseless, flickering, tiny flame or a fiery eruption of lav...

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    DOUBTS AND DEFICIENCIES


     
    Now he who sees dimly,
    or it's just trendy blind and can't exist
    neither an acquaintance nor a partner
    it is necessary and necessary to accompany him to the other side,
    where mazes of insidious heart rhythms lurk,
    and gangs of bald-headed skeanheads riot,
    and you don't know when the free robberies are
    the end of its universal era,
    while grumbling Harley Davidsons
    they purr like big cats
    with asphalt cutting trample wheels.

    Now he who looks dimly,
    or just deliberately trendy fads
    he sacrifices, he does not see his life and a new one for what it is.
    You can no longer see the selfless,
    helpful intention, nor one's own
    debt on the street or elsewhere.
    It has not been naturalized either
    empathy tolerance,
    neither is the elementary level
    golden rule of friendships.

    Everything is sneaky or sneaky
    ...

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    ONE FOR SOMEONE


      
    It's no use rejecting you now, or you're deceitfully denying yourself. I am still bound by human soul contracts, and because of you I will go and stand, if necessary, as a steadfast” role " in this great human conflict.

    Not evading or avoiding her as a friendly, chubby Scarecrow scaring black ravens Princes half-bolder – but still more conciliatory. I don't look upon you as a bribed celebrity, but as a faiently blessed lady among men who could hear the alms calvaries of my wounded soul.

    I know I've been a pathetic guy for a long time, poor little one who comes to you for help as a fan who peeps around looking only at you. Accompany me with your understanding, analytical humanity. Be my guiding guide-companion in my hellish present, where the law of an assassin is plagued.

    Now I know that the bottomless depths of many disappointments are despicable and infested with anger and sadness, perhaps, ...

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    VARIABLE NOTE


      
    In the depths of my soul, I am trapped in a well. I can feel that different winds are blowing now than in the past. I quickly waver according to my tendencies: when I am gripped by an inferiority complex, or just a persistent pang of panic.

    My complex mind and soul are burdened by many painful and useless thoughts, and my time is purposefully rushing and betraying me. In the past, they were thrown into hell for many, many bitterly painful decades. My voice - if there was one - is now deliberately not heard, or has been silenced. Immeasurable and inexplicable is the sure feeling of spleen and stomach, where my wandering existence returns again and again to recharge, to find new tried-and-tested paths.

    The future became a painted, leech-faced scumbag, pushed as prey - many times I also thought: I had already fallen out of all the remaining basket of abundance that once belonged to me. Why can't there be a true, loyal friend, family, ...

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    TORZO BEHIND YOUR FACE


      
    Maybe you just wanted to be a sure-loving Dear, in whose lap you can still lower your tired head, children playing happily, who are either exalted to the heavens, praised, or just cursed by your name and peculiarities.

    This beautiful Kort, without cat-and-mouse mortal quarrels, when everything is noticeably connected to everything and two loving hearts finally find their way into each other.

    Only this loan kiss, loan romance, which is merely enough to repay with poems and a set of compliments. You didn't even want to think about anything else; the rye count of the Autumn accountant melts into one with the honey drops of the champagne, which started to spawn.

    And that you’ve always borrowed Being a bit as a gift.

    Maybe that's all you wanted. And then, with solemn humility, you would have stepped out of history early in the age of fifty at the age of one, which could not have skimped you with unworthy, h...

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    WILLFUL BLINDNESS

    We need to squeeze the gauntlet of grim, rattling bravery. All of us, like blind people with blinders, are deliberately stuck in the gaping gloom.

    At the dawn of the days of wink, who would work, he could not be unlucky – God-given he could not reach the meager living for hunger wages. Groping, groping roots, Downworlders. Every small, revealing gesture is tiring on us.

    It is also a community called civilized. Our life, if in the air of uncertainty stagnate in the swamp of indifference, we hang as unworthy victims in silence until the next targeted relief.

    Yet among the hidden career aspirations, hidden Doxy-romances we can feel our flourishing prosperity-Ariadne's thread is prepared for us by the pounding beats of our hesitant hearts.

    The greed for money demands our clairvoyance ever and ever more violently. We could dream an American dream, if we could have the desired, pink syrupy, temporary dreams, we'd rather not have one mo...

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    CELL-CUTTING

     


    Because if only the treacherous eye was watching, the body still remained naked. If you are willing to notice the millions of tiny wandering spherical drops of mucus buzzing in the nervous system of the air, the harmonious balance of the soul also counts. Accompanied by instincts and the Universe, they click and rotate like magnetic gears in the moment of total annihilation. In the beneficial turbulence of the cells, as if in a strange hell, the self-explanatory ecstasy of pleasure derails in parallel screams: it burns beneficially to the thought of I love you and love.

    Newborn annihilations migrate beneficially from one molecule to another. Unexpected cause and effect strikes everyone at the same time. The forks and twigs of the clavicles stick out like a superstition, before they would grab hold like soft hooks in the tender flesh of the other body. - Through long, rich, vibrating eyelashes, she faithfully sweeps away the musty-smelling leaves of...

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    Variations


      
    Now I have a responsible duty on my shoulders as a pleasant burden, and therefore I know: it would still be good to live and hope! No one answers my questions with lost deaf-supplicants, while the unruly present embraces me with its stifling ferocious tentacles, and ordinary horrors erupt against me; I would be paralysed by contemptuous trifles. My future knew,much-on its March, I stand alone, vulnerable!

    With sleepless, Crow's-foot-hardened, glassy Mela-eyes, I stare into a deliberately deafened mosquito-stung night: help, compassion, pity will only work if someone with giving, Holy love takes my sweaty two hands with compassion. - Like a ruthless swamp swamp, surrounded by a brainwashed existence turned upside down, it won't let go!

    Pitfalls, pitiful tail traps hidden in the depths of the scheming, sneaky-eyes – they strive for my merely remaining, settled life incessantly: who else with angelic devotion can extend his ...

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    Disheveled pondering


      
    You stand on the edge of your pathetic life for a moment before you are finally embraced by the death-whispering lap of the gaping, underworld abyss. When you are still yourself, you may be able to enter the resinous, incense-filled silence to listen to the beating of your increasingly hard-served heart. Feel free to look at the gaudy path you took to get here.

    Human crypts-sad faces-in many cases-seem like strangers already so close to the chasing hatred; they become strangers where you once stopped in yourself and hoped you might have a new chance! Do not wear off your stubborn-thorn temper protecting yourself unnecessarily, if confessing stars can only Twinkle the handshakes of friends will dwindle more and more quickly.

    As a bulwark, you still guard your broken soul, but what will remain if you no longer listen to the signals of the sending world?! – Stop, if you want, on the edge of your life, if you feel that the decisive m...

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    BY THE TIME YOU GET OLD


      
    By the time your ashen, peony-skin becomes wrinkled, the misery of your fertile lap has been ravaged by the cobwebs, you will know: you too were created from fallible Endidu material, and your exotic body can only be held together by the fear between action and will!

    By which time you will wake up three times in the gloomy full moon of nights, because early on you will also be addressed by the compelling need, where the disguised, cosmeticized old age has been forced into the toilet bowl: you will find yourself in a hesitant, thieving torpor. When you will be forced to walk with your third helping leg, like Oedipus-asked revelation, know: the benevolent holy fetters of law and moral order have been deprived of you in modern times, when your humanity was laughed at with your swan-like gesture: leder joy girls-teenagers, 70-year-old bachelors.

    When the agony and bone-crunching pain of martyrdom approaches you with hip surgery, you will l...

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    Hidden confrontation


      
    I miss the whole of the same-age, honest-to-the-truth friendship security. The protective, Twilight-rich Mendes of romanticism, the choreographic grace of movements, and the uncertain consciousness: who in the twilight of my life can remain faithful to me?!

    I know now well: day by day, as hundreds of flowers drop their petals, I gradually break down and give up the happiness that cannot be won. After all, even today there may be another fragment of life.

    Without insignificant trifles, not a single petnable look or silly charming gesture will pass. I am sorely lacking the obstinate and simple-minded courage of the heart, still chirping mouths constantly suing and fighting.

    We can disappear at any time as a vile, meaningless figure, or as a floundering death: then can there also be someone who will come with me?!

    The micro-cosmos of minutes weeps like pearls in our eyes – I have wept many already and I can't...

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    SENSITIVITY

     

    My anxious fears surround me! Nights pushed aside for clamorous days are flirtatious! Irritating cursed yelling sounds destroy empathy, spiritual harmony that can be built on! Hurricane waves are fueled by unnecessary human emotions among themselves! I wonder if I can still hear the whispering of the angel under the heart of my Beloved?

    The cherishing wings of angels rarely save me from my current Apocalyptic state! The unruly Heart grinds time in its own heart! "The gates of the lips of all things are not sure to open amid the hesitant tremors of festive silence!" It would be even better if the immortal glint of superstitious eyes could compose pounding wave sounds!

    The light galaxy of hopeless romantics can bleed through the veil of sunsets tempered in crimson! The constantly changing human spirit can only be stimulated by someone else; in my disgraced solitude I am perfectly defenseless! Because I should have understood the rules of ...

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    HIDDEN NOTE

     

    Dusk gloom lingers in the extinguished outer spaces! Inner soul - the Sleeper fantasizes about dreams a lot! The cross-section of the objects can still be felt and they are constantly speaking to you if you listen to them! In a torn apart existence, he stops and looks around meditatively with a completely empty gaze, and the "how to continue?" - just guessing at a question, if you can answer! The fear that can be extended to the universal petrifies even in the scattered movements! The space wind blows the persecuted innocents in the face every day, who have still learned to respect Man!

    We can be close to ourselves and far from ourselves at the same time; timeless prejudice blazes forth from every hostile gaze! In ourselves, half-hearted, alarmed child whispers to the Past; the pain of the world screams in the Nothing ready to be destroyed! And the moment of Finality is getting closer! Hidden in the rocky lair of homes - a welcoming yet conscious...

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    NO LONGER LIFE

    It's no longer a self-sufficient, magical fad. Fate cut into the uneven, wide space undrawn. Start and End are two well-thought-out symbiosis platforms. Body and shape are already a prisoner of cheap, small style. I should see you even if I continue. In the pitiful crumbs of visions, I cannot exist only alone, only in a couple.

    As a shapeshifter, it is always only in the curvature of an opposite side, on the crystal field of mirrors. I would prefer to exchange life, legend, fairy&nb...

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    STOLEN YOUTH

     


    It's closed around you and you never ask whose son-calf the Circle was! There's probably no way out. You could escape, though, if you really wanted to, into a loving mother's lap, until the fog in your heart tightens. Fate leads us along its winding dangerous paths: what can bring us to the ground beyond death-loss, and what can lift us to the stars?

    You do not want to see-notice Theiresias-with eyes in front of you the world is already drowned in infectious filth. Looking forward to your final day?! And where the unworthy destruction had developed, your cowardly flight came in order, because you kept your moral standing still within you. - Where are the blazing, bright fires of joy that once shone the tangled lines of your clown face curled to tears?

    Now only your pitiful, helpless bitterness pours into the world of which you are a part! Your anxiety – don't pretend who can notice it? It creeps into you more and mor...

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    VARIATIONS

     

    Now I have a responsible duty on my shoulders as a pleasant burden, and therefore I know: it would still be good to live and hope! No one answers my questions with lost deaf-supplicants, while the unruly present embraces me with its stifling ferocious tentacles, and ordinary horrors erupt against me; I would be paralysed by contemptuous trifles. My future knew,much-on its March, I stand alone, vulnerable!

    With sleepless, Crow's-foot-hardened, glassy Mela-eyes, I stare into a deliberately deafened mosquito-stung night: help, compassion, pity will only work if someone with giving, Holy love takes my sweaty two hands with compassion. - Like a ruthless swamp swamp, surrounded by a brainwashed existence turned upside down, it won't let go!

    Pitfalls, pitiful tail traps hidden in the depths of the scheming, sneaky-eyes – they strive for my merely remaining, settled life incessantly: who else with angelic devotion can extend his hand to me ...

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    BEING IS IN FLUTTER

     

    The throbbing, mucus-pain creeps in alive, the nerve the size of a rabbit's tail hisses from it; a cold settles under your sweaty clothes in the bitter winter cold. It's creeping up on you, like a molecular army of ferocious bacilli sneaking up on you, surreptitiously going to war - that's fine!

    Only medicines can open the prison cell door of your body again! You can stare at Bamba like a foolish sheep because of your failed failures: what could finally have given birth to grumpy-headed Time's little kings, little gods in skirts?! Now you should marinate it according to the recipe, like smoked ham in the torture chamber, because you are forced to fight an unnecessary battle with your organs! As a diligent judge, you will now be able to examine your own conscience with interest: why did you have to be a bachelor so many times out of virtue, when you knew it yourself; wasn't the unattainable profit-wages made for you?!

    Now the i...

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    It Was Uninhabitable-There Is

     

    Looking into the pit-well of your conscience, you can see exactly the dark pits of your thirst! Stars above his shop with Silver writes hopes with you in the light! You should boldly rely on your instincts for a network of secret intuition that always tells you the truth and accepts the truth! From the self-circle of the body a timid one breaks out, and in the heart-petal of his cages the melee soul-bell rings forever! The veil of distance falls when the gestures of the faces close – if words and promises become false, you can easily fall out of yourself!

    Merciless time throws you into the depths to make you more courageous! And you still don't know who will be behind you-who will be waiting for you?! - Even the fertile silence confuses you with silence; with its content the hidden values within you are invigorated in thought, but it also surrounds you, Moon-barking nights lulling their stars of hope-we escape by ourselves when all our paths have...

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    Checkmate

     

    People are slowly sneaking past me! Like Sneaky sneezers hatched from the underworld who have sins; they always fall by themselves like mirror drops of tumbling light!

    It's like sticky cell plasma! I watch in myself the worn-out, useless heartbeats; discipline struggles with distance and Daily presents me with new tasks! Between the hurricane waves of sounds, The worked-out minutes are blurred! Deceitful hands of liars blow up more possibilities!

    Phlegmatic indifference prevails even in the more vigilant spirit, because my intellect wins the trendy jerk; all self-knowledge can disappear if the personality cannot feed its own thoughts! There is little self-criticism in the mask of plastered larval faces, defeated will wriggle like an apostate on a street corner! - Many people are on a path of self-destruction while a sure career is also a happy one! White-spongy desert a vision riddled with ecstasy of an empty brain! The Seeing Eye is also the...

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    SATIRE

     

    The exotic beauties of the schools are also grouped into selfish, petty sects! How many people have called themselves prostitutes?! He wandered around the stilted corners of the streets, longing for true immortality! Frivolous Taverna pimps, with treacherous intentions, are collecting Judas-swaggers, who are going to make the industry sick, sooner or later they will vomit, and it will be too late for the salvageable! You can get slapped for a cheap one-night stand! They're talking back-to-back lapdogs, small-time House Angels! - Like a calculated lunatic crouching shadows, they turn into nothing but snitch dreams!

    He who does not follow the golden mean carries the shadow of swaying days! Divas ' sun-drenched faces flicker with light and spawn with botox-collagen; it can only be a meager consolation for the risks of survival at all times! Hordes of men throw sneaky handshakes and cheap promises with arrogant pride, and when the age of proof comes, t...

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    Approximate future

     

    It would be useless to dare to risk a shortened look; with a tragic spurt, we are already involved with our universal Europeanism in the pop culture cataclysms of idiocy! I see it every day with hypermodernity

    Cyber-tech with light, distributed solemnity will first lift you up and then strike down your brainwashed idiocy! They preach ever-evolving changes, even though they have no idea that human humanity can easily be lost! In less than five years, the money-fund offered is running out: no hospitals could be built, and they continue to cover their desolation with diseases desolating with murder!

    But let's all rejoice, one more Titian has been stolen from the taxes, and New megalomaniac constructions have begun! More inner self-sufficient freedom is already given to few! One can no longer dare to fight for subsistence, since many times pejva cannot be enough for utilities, but everyday sachet soups are served on festive tables alone! -We spen...

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    Empty proximity

     

    Is it possible that the magic of the present moment has finally disappeared? The defeated time still consumes itself in me with its burning flames: with its executioner's teeth it rips at its pleasure! Floating

    my ease has always been lacking to wander through the purgatory of trials! Can the world go through and sustain such a haphazard as myself?!My gaze strays toward deep-rooted friendships that can be rediscovered and preserved: on the waves of the throne-usurper, I am often faced with a fierce death, disembodied!

    Furious, growling, humming infarction and knocker Morse-eminent heart; itself would make a big donation ' and so on but it's all up to have pity them! Quietly, imperceptibly, perhaps in a few years I will get out of the rollercoaster spin of Damn squirrel wheels, and the receiving abyss-abyss may be forever-found my home! A restrained, tightened rage roars, a spark pukes and trembles between the pillow folds of my cheeks...

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    MIRACLE-MIMICRY IN THE HOPE OF LIFELESS LIVES

     

    In the wilderness of brainwashed end-beings, the manipulable man is rattling: there is no transition or connection between his ever-diminutive, pathetic goal. He lies and swears with the slaves of the condemned, because he is attracted by the unattainable reality, the false appearance. At work, he sweats blood more and more, hunches over his desk, and while overbearing bosses and principals hold a siesta at lunchtime to their liking, he is still dealing with administrative paper-smelling matters with a growling stomach. Why would he look after other people's interests? Desires?

    When he too is in the crosshairs of manipulable bribery?! At first it only lures in, later unscrupulous phlegmatic-mode easily tramples on those who are in the way of the donkey rank ladder. This is how man-animal rides forward! Anyway, he's looking for a promotion, a raise, a layoff, a layoff... They, too, are rather humbled, but he takes it on, because he even pitifully wa...

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    FACES'S VERSE

    Whom the world of secured Solitude has closed many times; spirit and rule of survival guide you! He is afraid of the dictionaries of Mysterious Faces, and trembles at familiar questions! Carefully trying to understand Man and Life! You can see flirting recognition in the eye sockets! Even try to spell out your Word magic on love-drunk lips! To perceive his soul's journey only by Revelations; escape between survival mazes!

    The pursuit of career success at all costs is flashing in your eyes! An explanation can also be found for actions that often lead to indecipherable suicide! An open petal-flower body language would fondly describe the interdependence of the Universe; among the mysteries of unspoken face games, only those who can see with the Heart can read!

    In this current upside-down, crazy Age, the wounded, inner vibrations of Man should be taken into account! To whom can the hidden book of faces be opened without superficiality - but with sincere faith?! ...

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    INTERACTION-GARLANG

     

    When Hangman Time opens over our lives; we raise our upturned palms to the sky! A wounded sunset flutters alive in our eyes! For the Great Crossing – perhaps – everything is already given only we are more hesitant and unprepared! We can also rush towards the liberated nothing with reservations only! - The accumulated waves of this existence are ready to clash over our heads again-all around there could hardly be a created soul left to hold on to with courage!

    There are still crypt days, when gaping chasms under our feet open their mouths with their half-hearted, pathetic will: "jump down!– - And we are only one-we are stuck in the place of death-frozen in silence, because the excited adrenaline is not enough in us for the action we have accomplished! The silent Infinity can only be felt by those who stand still in time and give a gritty, wolf-eyed answer to it!

    Their intentions are consciously hidden by these faces today:&n...

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    WHAT NEEDS TO BE SAID

     

    The free-thinking, proud-minded soul loses patience. He demands answers to his everyday scandal-ridden squabbles. With a shaken will, he would rather bury his head in the sand until he was dismissed from his job, trampled by the many vengeful, brainwashed whiners. He is not torn apart by greedy dishonor.

    They are no longer there, we simply have no reliable support. With an unwise, hesitant-Mela mood, we go round and round aimlessly…

    To see – if anything-we can hardly see. Our nerves and our thoughts are atrophied by the dread of an ambitious, ruthless career and money-centricity, and while everyone who was once an unknown moves away from new calamities, his beating step shape is absorbed by the syrupy, sticky blindness.

    There are some things that cannot be stopped, because the idiotic total-rudeness continues and eats up its unsuspecting members. It comes out breaking bones and permeates the shrunken brains that are Pongo i...

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    FATE-BEGININGS

    Getting to know ourselves is the real test. For who can know that the life of the end and the beginning of his whole existence is a living picture, if in reality he seeks the present. The uncertain future can find in him,his Here-Now."

    Living the full is almost impossible. In the complete absence-loneliness of the heart, it ripens in the sediment of fate tragedies, and final decisions: Why do we feel that while all the unexpected roads, rivers, and seas find their way home, the hesitant brood of man pursues his fate, dragging and dragging, as a kind of serious soul Odyssey, from which there may be no way out?!

    The beginning eventually converts to annihilating Nirvana-silence even without man. Though the one-face of our things is faceless in the same way as the present majority show themselves! His suffering-poison only creates another disembodied, indissoluble absence on a false formula of consciousness. No one can look back, no one can turn back from where ...

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    Silence-cry

     

    On the top of Splinter puddles, a tiny tearful-bubble dances with a burst: it weeps itself out in the form of a ball! In my wounded past, this is how the spirit-inspiring shower punishes me! Struggling

    I can only be a melee flame swaying in the winds; still resistant to Wolf laws with obstinate faith! An ominous conjecture warns me of the distress signals that surround me – while an unstoppable, rattling stream in my soul cuts out its still deepening pit-beds from wounds!

    Rocking the knowable existence-swing! She reveals her lattice chains to me; she is drawn to her by a magnetically tameable brooding!

    If I can listen to their knocking Glass Sound play, I can hang on to it! In me, there are still seditious and rebellious voices that rise to the surface, and they tell me theirresias fears! – My inner Infinity may even help me rebuild the many fragments of the present!

    We should revisit the speech of eyes on Soul fil...

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    PUNISHMENT IN AGE

     

    I am now stratified by a cesspool of false interests and selfish bribes. Insistent, stubborn now sensationalist play, careerist, vain ambition,that among the blemish-mirrored faces who won stupider and more stupid awards can only be cool.

    And the little camp of holy fools and freethinkers, with a smile on their faces, will be trampled down easily if necessary. Dozed doubts also moved into the basic layers of bribed, brainwashed minds.

    The deliberately smoothed skin of every retro-light photo model was chipped, just like the false dialogue of looks and movements playing hide-and-seek.

    Exotic Swans in the shadows of delicate, grim divas are rare among themselves to fight like this. The dream of the beauties here is always at least an international success, and although the national public opinion is such that if the Immaculate rose gardens are damaged, they suffer a fall on the evidence of time, facelift as a second survival option is not...

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    DECEIVED HAPPINESS

     

    I have so many times played the happy contentment, playful, silent pretense, that I have become a liar-accomplice of myself. Now I could finally get out of the prison hells of forced robot actions and live a little. I look anxiously and anxiously, and I look at myself, and I ask aloud, what else is missing?! Where does the exhausted, floundering shortage go and where?

    Is there anything missing in me or in the world of total absurdity?! Why don't you get a promising dream job or a poppy seed, a tiny allowance? - I am already so that everything tinsel has become bribed. It's a caressing, puffing old lie, and it's all about whether I fought for my dreams-because the deceived happiness can only be faked, felt!

    And while in many forms I have performed sincere-true consolation for others , I have by necessity forgotten my own sins of lead weight, of concrete, and of the Golgotha of my selfish self-pity. For life as a superficial, cosmetic a...

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    MOVABLE SHELLS

     

    Only the color and, at most, the shell, if you can see it. In the seed house, black-brown seeds are crushed and dried in meek. An alien outsider appears to be a wanderer, at the same time confiding in me, otherwise deceitfully luring me in.

    Its treacherous stratification is enhanced by a regrown thick layer; it escapes from your muddy hands. The meaning of existence is bound to be constrained and interpreted; it casts seductive shadows before you.

    When the nasty moment comes, you can see him fooling and fooling his fellows clinging to the branches of trees: perhaps this is how people fool each other, use each other. With black lead weights, the verdict drags towards everyone, just like the executioner. At the frozen, silent bottom of slimy dreams, everyone can already guess that the proud present deservedly dreamed is just a lie that began to intrigue!

    The innocent gaze, like alluvial sludge, is struck by the fact that the flesh of Juic...

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    SPARROWS CHIRP

     

    I already know. They no longer seek nor invite you into the acid shower of love and friendships. The memories of the homely past have also become a shadow among the living creatures. At any time, the dead-unwitting can be trapped in the sediment of meaningless life, and the distorted Apple-cob handshakes, calculating promises are only good for someone to understand that mud-stamping is going on here on all levels.

    Huge, aching blindness is a useless fate even for faces constantly wanting to ask questions. Unanswered, hopping, tripping among lofty wrecks, sham-prophets shining in short supply, the decaying city.

    Pain, but also lazy indifference is squeezed out of the tired forehead. From down here it can be continued with difficulty, for he who willingly gives out his passion for Golgotha boldly finally collapses dead and white in some deserted street noise.

    A resentful loud gasp continues to be heard as the late awakenings of this now w...

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    WOULD HAVE MORE DOORSTEP 

     

    I still look at this world of indomitable, vindictive change; my desperate fear drags me into immeasurable ravines. An unknown force forces me to do the inevitable many times. Like everywhere else.

    Destiny, as an unknown alien, begins to work here as well. Flaming pieces of rock, fallen Janus heads. He crawls crushed, still dragged by the freethinking spirit. There can be no more backlash! No lay low. Is doing something a protest?!

    It became a shame out of will. Total exhaustion from cowardice-the soul shrinks its pathetic self Permanently in itself; it watches itself from within. He realized that he was hiding in the indifferent idleness, instead running away.

    My heart beats arrhythmically, knocking, like a restless volcano fluttering under the oceans. The infinite Equinox of happiness that can be found has now even been deliberately bypassed. Blood clots are trolling one after another in the tunnels of blood vessels of the cells hardw...

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    CELLS-ADOMBRATIVE

     

    Because if it was just the deceitful eye watching, it still left the body dry-naked. The millions of tiny, small, wandering round-shaped ball drops in the mottled nervous system of the air, if you wish to notice the one whose harmonious balance of the soul matters in addition. Instincts and the universe accompany it now and in its moment of total annihilation, they click and spin like magnetic gears. In the beneficial turbulences of the cells, even in a strange descent into hell, the self-evident ecstasy of pleasure derails in parallel screams: it burns beneficially on the thought of love and love.

    Newborn annihilation migrates beneficially from one molecule to another. Everyone has unexpected causes and effects at the same time. The fork-branches of the collarbones while they stand out superstitiously, until they hold on like tender hooks in the flesh of the other body. -Through long,lush-vibrating eyelashes, he sweeps away with Fidelity the musty-smellin...

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    AGAINST THE TIDE

     

    Nowadays, you walk imperceptibly on a single blade, a world that has become manipulable, and you can no longer be more than a vain delusion-dream, a tightrope walker flirting with meaningless, promising careers or even pathetic and ridiculous little comedies. What is not clear is whether he dreams what he really and truly wants, and whether the city that smells of Nineveh will suck him in with its evil-lying abomination, like a vile living?! What kind of pain, humiliation, suffering are you called to? His emotions were sewn from lust and crocodile tears, while outside the roaring Zhivago wind thundered.

    Behind him hangs a hangman's noose his shipwrecked past, perhaps as well as his no-nonsense, despicable present, and the ever-ambiguous, further trampled uncertain Gorgon-headed future. The only thing left of his life was to toil for thirty-six hours continuously until the evening, and if there were even a tiny Breath of time, he would rather waste it o...

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    HALFWAY TO CALCULATION

     


    In his heart, he beats with trouble, boundless vulnerability gnaws at him. Those who are left alone for good have neither time nor anyone. Twilight dips its richly golden-tipped feather into the undressing of seasons when autumn comes again. He who is left alone can no longer be comforted by either the living or the dead. Unread Apokfif moves hang on the walls of Time; our memory moments gradually become denser: do you bind up the bleeding, punctured wounds of your cells voluntarily or out of pity?!

    The one who is left alone, the mournful admission reflects: he has always stood alone in the face of the threatening World. The Indian wind of times is only a fragment of his memory. An unprincipled defense and defiance alliance cannot serve with sufficient impartiality to create new relationships.

    Creating a sacred protection system out of friendships is almost totally impossible. He who is left alone, let his voice be a tame knock, his gaze ...

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    BROKEN ATTITUDE

     

    Against joy and pain-I have known for a long time-I am stripped and defenseless! As a child, the teachers knelt on peas when the others whistled Moor jokes in my ears. When I fell in love for the first time, and then more and more Jing and Yang, Alpha and Omega Angels, sinful Saints came before me, and it would have been so good to seek out and know the secret of beating hearts in place of the stripped-down instinctive longing!

    There were times when evil-ruthless wands were thrown over my head, and while out there in the grotesque-absurd world, minute-men, thirsty for new fame, appeared one after another – the thought of silent heralds, prophets desiring to bear witness, was lost.

    Like a sharp scalpel-blade on a stone, I had the opportunity to ingloriously fall on the filth altars of sky-shattering finales every day for five minutes, cheap men. The performance, the culture that is about to be renewed, is dying!

    They put the artist...

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    DOUBLE SOMERSAULT

     

    How many layers has the layered gloom become in man now?! It moves from one layer to another. The shadows of the lyre ore of the thickening night become permanent, grow, but they do not hurt yet. In pre-human defiance-light, rustling material, the watercolor levels of obscurity converge. From the secret apocryphal signs of faces, empty rolls, gutters gape. Nothing almost immediately and always stirs the silence of the listener.

    Honest, even from human eyes, as if someone had moved away a long time ago. Bodies first open up like flower petals opening up, and then, if we are lucky, they accept us. - A cheap, treacherous tax collector of desires is also degenerated into an uncompromising man; there is still an angel and a serpent lurking among the mazes of the ego-layers.

    Under the broken roofs of shelters, it would be good to find a different peace, but there are not yet those who would clean up the ruins that have been unnecessarily forgotten here...

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    IN CAPTIVITY OF APPEARANCES

     


    How many times when I was a weed guy, I would have wished to sneak into the actor's locker rooms through the secret snail tunnels like an invisible otherworldly friendly ghost, a stray ghost. It would have been nice to have been disappointed by the roomy crackling boards, and to have either pious Yorick, Fastaff, or Graciano with his head held up to the audience to confess the petty, naive, innocent, holy lies of ordinary life.

    Oh, in my mind I was greeted in Thalia's Noble wax museum as an old returning dear guest, who only stays until he can see the face of his favorite actress up close wishing him" a big hat " - for public appearances. - A bushy joke, a human gesture-the theater did not do so much, because money always rattled from above, and because an actor always has his hands tied! He draws a smile, a glued Halo, an angel's wing, so that the average person can faithfully and faithfully believe that reality is just a kin...

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    CONFIDENTIAL, DEPENDENT TRIAL

     

    In this rare autumn leaf rain, the last burst of flame of the still bubbly, rust-marta summer seems to be gently straining at the memory filled with pleasure. The soul happily forgets itself again, while the simple mortality of the natural landscape can be lost among the magnificently superstitious golden storm leaves. Things and objects can be simplified when stripped down to the bare bones, because they can become the same. With sharp, crystal-clear lights, the gentle detail is arranged just like the easy soul migration of the Universe.

    Fragrance and holiday, humble silence, in which even discipline stares blindly in front of itself on an indifferent, dim morning. The invisible elf-glow mercilessly fills the memories of the past and the speeding loops of time. Now everyone moves in the same One-Essence, rushes forward, and makes repayments. Halfway into the creative romance, the childish illusion and the naive imagination playing with the soul bump into ...

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    EXPANDED LIFETIME


    Doubt lurks behind Time in an infected, fear-sly school, the last hope behind a gray toothless tooth, because the syrupy reality pinged from the cards of daydreams is often, stubbornly deceptive.

    Self-delusion has become a pious offense, if only unknown loneliness can be a person's only companion. Balance can only rarely unfold, like a palm. Even the semblance of survivability could have turned into a cheaply inflated, false password.

    How dead-ended were all the yew-flowered hopes. The total lack of your measured human face is always reflected in your everyday life. With fragmentary articulations, the past testifies and answers at the same time. If you do something wrong, he scolds you and warns you. You couldn't be a diamond knockback for a long time, neither in flesh nor in cells.

    Time is simultaneously registered to the nervous self. Space and memory break down into unlearnable reflex movements. They were all hurt by their previo...

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    WOUNDS IN DEFENSE

     

    It was designed so that we could not see the zealous layer beneath the layers, always only the slag-free, crystal-clear surface. Through the Nirvana desert of time, we carry ourselves like a torturer. burden of hell: the assured forgiveness.

    We, too, are constantly changing dynamically, be it propaganda or horde obsessions. Like silent stones on the deepening, drinking bottom of lakes, we rest on the strings of time, until a quick-judging, vengeful end is called.

    We could fly through the miserable, once-only length of our years like a slowed-down, grumpy genie - if we were lucky - on the side of Someone. We would speak out, address the handful of people who are constantly worried about us. Not-understood barriers, obstacles, resistance are given instead of mutually beneficial, negotiated compromises.

    With the passing away, the syrupy mud stuck on the yellow soil will hug everyone to itself at the same time. Who would have ever dared to ...

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    DIFFERENT LIFE TIME


    Infected behind Time,

    doubt lurks sly,

    gray toothfish

    the last hope,

    because from the cards of daydreams

    pinged syrup reality often,

    firmly deceitful.

    A gracious offense has become self-deceiving,

    if only unknown loneliness

    can only be man's only companion.

    Balance is true

    it can rarely open like a palm.

    The appearance of survival is also cheap,

    could have been a false password.

    How finite everything became

    iris-lived ass hope.

    Total lack of your assessed human face

    it always strikes on your everyday life.

    Fragmented articulations of the past

    he interrogates and answers at the same time.

    If you do something wrong

    reprimanded.

    You couldn't have hit a diamond back

    timeless in neither flesh nor cells.

    Time is registered at the same ti...

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    THIEF-WRINKLES

     

    On the ladder of our years, it is just another insignificant, symbolic gesture, the unworthy web of our wrinkles. He paints voiceless, silent incisions, draws encrypted hieroglyphic figures on maps of talkative faces. The ever-thinning heartbeats are waiting for the last time to beat again, permanently.

    Oh, but there can no longer be two hands shaking for each other, facing an uncertain future at all costs. It's gone. Pondering on the memory bones of withered universes is useless. Even so, two talkative pairs of deer-eyes, like diminutive shooting stars on the dark-mass tapestry of the horizon, would open the secrets of the selfish stubborn heart.

    In tired bodies biological age gnaw, gnawing at New insidious worms. The extended distance also testifies to confidential togetherness. -On the petals of former exotic beauties, Today botox s collagen masses are produced. From the former recalled, kind face could only remain a crumbling ruin?!

    ...

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    TOTAL FAILURE OF DEVELOPMENT PATHS

     

    How long will the difficult and vicissitudes of the galley remain as a possible path to individual prosperity?! What nonsense is it that all you need is common sense and good luck! Cross-examination is necessary, and of course it should be answered when sermons and odes are told about unconditional trust. The producer division of the unequal labor market is also becoming more and more obvious, perhaps even the boldball lowlife John thinks so, but they are afraid that all the talk will sooner or later end in a radical career decline!

    Here no one loves or accepts another, this is a mere ideal - the goal that is tolerated is much simpler: to survive and survive in the dirty gray ocean of the vicissitudes of everyday life. Certain pre-guaranteed and guaranteed paths can only be reached by" privileged ones " with their hearts manipulated with firm craftsmanship. As one who has long since cast off his ordinary soul, and perhaps even bargained with the ...

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    COMPETITIVE GAME

     

    I see kids going wild in the video game room under the Starlight Roof. First, it is only the latent, muted anger of aggression that totally knocks you over the head, and then the inner more real beast instincts come in turn. Consumer electronics just does not rest. Where did the old talking Teddy bears, moncsichis, LEGO people go? Some deliberately planned trampling can also be seen between the ruthless, brutal rivalry between them.

    There were four of them, and even among the bad guys, how soon the negotiated honor of the Outlaw was lost. Unexpectedly-suddenly the gang leader began to push, saying; now it will be his turn, while everyone else has been enough. And hip-hop, the blood cancer of conflicts, petty little disagreements has already emerged. ,Now it's my turn! You guys shut up! You've been there enough!""he shouted at them, and while the other boys had a blazing lightning of vengeance secretly, as accomplices conspiring against on...

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    UNIVERSAL ERA OF ORPHANS

     

    Human useless Destiny is already a bone worm, which worms and galad beetles eat at their pleasure, only to turn into gray ash. The impure, scapegoat-temper of a feeble soul is ready to give all its dreams and the duties of the persecuted, and perhaps to pay them; the Great Robbery is never carried out by more - in each case by one-one! Workshops, if they were, dilettantism degenerated into cheap, grotesque verme.

    The trartuffe gang has become too many these days, who, if necessary, can easily suck each other's lifelike-creative mother's milk at any time, and do not leave behind only missing mangled stumps.An over-advertised podcast of pretentious bestselling authors pours from most of the channels, while you tear your hair, bang your head against the wall, that you trusted these as a slave-soul loser-fool, who then only ridiculed you first, and later cheated you with interest!

    My discordant heartbeat will hardly last sixty, and it is bett...

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    DREAMING ADVENTURER

     

    It's not the light that has gone out, it's just the world has changed, so weep calmly, cowardly-boldly, that you can no longer be who you used to be: a servant-like Little Penguin-man, because New brutal-dwellers are coming, and your mud-palace, built of Adobe, is about to collapse.

    A tiny digital photo and voila! The Masterpiece-miracle is ready! Supermodel Angels staring at you like that, waiting for your every wish. What a dazzling, superficial and useless collection of glitter, silver-plated cocktail filters. Even your eyes will hurt. What kind of manipulable Janus faces surround you, like shape-shifting chameleons?! Are the Dead really active, perhaps, only living in our branch?!

    You look at the back of your hand on the table; it fumbles first with the pencil, and then with the blond lock of hair given to you by The Lover; it is a priceless little trinket intended for a precious future. - It's not the light that goes out! Don'...

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    TO UNDERSTAND THE WORLD!

     

    Only the question-answers are ambiguous! Everything else, perhaps, is understandable. Posture, nonverbal gesticulations are so many petty, petty, manipulative pretensions that sooner or later settle comfortably in the heart, between the poles of the inner vulnerable soul, from which they can rarely be expelled, just like uninvited guests.

    Only the eyes of the Corn of Light, The Darkening, soul-seeing eyes of the cosmos, are unmistakable, as is the realization that man must hear, for this is the law of being! Only awakening, like birth, can be misunderstood, when the crying protesting baby is torn from the placental shelter of our mother, who-True - wants to live, but under humane conditions, and secretly suspects that the reverse countdown has already begun.

    Only the Dear photo of the superstitious from the digital photo frame is ambiguous! As he longs with radiant happiness and mischievous girlish nonsense for meaningless, almost childish wishes...

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    UPPER VALUE

     

    One should never be allowed to give oneself to the Lost Fate or turn his back bored, with lazy indifference to the nobleman, the Good, and not pick - but he already accepts everything with tolerance, humility; to cover up his shipwrecked, furrowed Janusz face when asked, "How are you today?!" It covers with fogs and sand. They swallow the sweet and the vile bitterness in the same way, that he hardly separates the truth and the liar, that he also exposes the weak to the stronger, or tramples in a gallant way, saying: ,,Buy only from starving mouths to unthink is enough!"

    That he does not admonish his children for either education, intelligence, or humane behavior, instead: “Bulizzatok only human-darid V.I.P. - in many ways as you can fit in, and be drunk only twenty-four hours a day, for there is always free space in the detoxifier! ”- Cheap, debilitating, hypocritical propaganda speeches, papal sermons can be killed out of man, d...

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    NEWS-JUDGMENTS

     

    The Earth is full of judgments, stereotypes, so many ominous, manipulated standards of rules, unnecessarily scrawling Sisyphean weights in it, and there is hardly anyone to understand it; sin and punishment can never be an end in itself, or a legitimate, just one at all!

    Sophisticated and bizarre-unconscious is the man-made court, and in it are the bribed false judges, lawyers, and pretended jurors. Sluggish, moth-chewed porette's code of laws, a vile paragraph-article cannot be sophisticated enough to illuminate the rhetorical Falanseter construction sensibly and soberly, who else can be right here at all?! My defense is a loose, deliberately disinterested play, a silly little fairground comedy! And is the real thinker the one who stole cocoa snails and pizza to feed his children, or the one who is already consistently stirring up discord even among the peaceless?!

    The present world has been greatly multiplied by Daniel the Bulge, and he who...

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    STAGES OF TRIPPING

     

    In your inner soul, your guardian angel no longer watches over you, and watches over - but rather over a lazy, indifferent stress-old man, who may have lost all his teeth. And you can no longer heat up past, present, uncertain future and even less so, your planned world of yesterday burns in your brain, which is a lie to you, a villain - at home, the average will easily become a loser, because they are not able to understand: you would have to go to hell to scrape chestnuts!

    Your true insatiable spirit is an ever-growing curiosity; your stubborn will and so many carefully cherished rambling memories may now appear in a memory-consuming distance. It is now as if the whining of an animal were sneaking around like a beaten dog in the footsteps of a man; it is more and more difficult to tolerate among the vile worms enclosed in larvae. Free thought keeps the folds of your brain alert and fit, so be careful not to be deceived or led by malevolent intent.

    ...

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    PAINFUL MESSAGE

     

    You were an orphaned, disgraced angel-face under the dimly luminous neon lights of the otherworldly, and in this melancholy, underworld radiance, for the first time, I caught you in the act of conscious, intended anxiety, as some kind of anticipatory fear, worry about our unplanned future together. The inevitable endpoints, like Hangman loops, were already choking our throats in full swing.

    So strange was your altruistic, orphaned surrender, for you have always, as a rule, followed the sincere voice of your willful-stubborn heart of gold, and yet the silent, almost chaste wailing, in what tolerable-helpless shackles, accompanied by a frightened acquiescence.

    But tell me, and confess boldly, what prompted you to make a permanent, irrevocable rioting against the Gordian knots of things-relationships?! What was so urgent and unavoidable that you gave your precious heart to someone else in the hidden equipment of the University, and left me alone, cu...

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    PREGNANT TEMPER

     

    You are yourself and cannot be manipulated, you are a brainwashed Fool, until you can be indignant and think, until your sanity is surreptitiously broken by calculating partiality. If necessary, you will run to your ruin rather than to protect your peace of indifference.

    What do you got? True not so much. Yet the narrow world is lurking in your face for daring to be yourself! You will not shine on your own except for those who accept you or love you, because the" bleating sheep-majority " never had anything to do with you!

    What is worth the unworthy, vile praise, if you are not worthy of it, it did not suit you?! And what is it worth if you are not praised, offered a good neighbor's word or two, if you are still worthy of it? Even if the dog doesn't treat you like a human being, you still tolerate and swallow humbly.

    In your bad fate, you must often be worthy of indignation and rebellion! You are bound by a thousand th...

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    UNINVITED GUESTS

     

    Nightmares come upon me many times, haunted, like stray ghosts waiting for midnight. One of them would already grab my sick, tachycardic heart, the other one would drag the tangled labyrinth network of capillaries into a convulsive, bumpy Wolf gujaj. At short circuits, my brain begins to glow into chronic pinches, while my gelatinous, disgusting sweating body vomits in a desperate embryo pose, seeking and demanding psychological shelter.

    Like a worthless, split-up speck of dust, I would be left alone, yet actively trying to live the agonizing cancer of my daily life. And many behave in such a way as to make unworthy and useless promises, saying, let this petty child-souled Fool hope a little, after all, even the House of Cards, which he believed to be solid, will eventually collapse. Squeaking like an ECG or a beeping Holter monitor, a few pumping blood vessels can be seen flashing, which would still suffocate, with excited greed, the millions of tiny oxyg...

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    REALITY-TRANCE

    Then fifty years later, when it was all autumn, agaric, disappointed, and we would be cynically hair-splitting, I would like to see for a single day the people who advertised it had something to do with them. To look at the man and the sinking city along the rolling Danube.

    A single mitzvah, lost look would be enough just for me to understand and know what he estimated, what each "average" took him, or what the cyber passed on to digital hippie nomads. Will there still be a meaningful culture and science without demagogic and propaganda?! Skinny riddle consolation.

    I would be a silent yet testifying witness to Gyugó among the many little Tomoceusz Katatiki. Merely left perception in the laririntus mazes of the inner soul. The age of half-wild wild barbarians now seems to be fading, the tabloid media is brainwashing with half-stupid superstitions cherishing luxury dreams. The absurd joke about it all is that man is always a alamus, tuna sheep pris...

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     REPORT TO JANUARY

     

    It is boiling again, hissing this man-carrying Nirvana, in which the rebellion of the Crowds is once again. This measured Executioner's Time is just a possible, narrow vessel. He plays the incapable, like the chess pieces of Hope. As essentially a enduring, Elioti's Nobody's Land, merges intention and doctor Did: the mortal man-dweller of the earth pushes his borders forever, while everyone who wants a sane PEACE!

    Man, fearful, is at most rarely expected by worldly earthly stars; it is hard to imagine now that the beautiful Dear sincerely and truly whispers longingly, with love:, I love you, for I have chosen you because of your human qualities and not because of your Money! ”- This century is no longer at all about testifying or saving values for accounts, since the real, deserved Success has also become a mass commodity, and showcase authors are forced to dominate market movements!

    It might be good if the pumpkin, hasty temper...

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    IT WOULD NOT BE ALL

     

    Only the zigzagging, then the fearfully bursting proud rocket nozzle light flies briskly into your room, and the cell lattice-smelling shadows also spin to dance with it. Shapes and rich colors really proliferate and seem fuller and richer, but the dream now also likes the mocked Reality, which disappoints, mocks, or places new burdens on the shoulders of the simple man every day. Now the gala, nonsense World are still lying about fairy ball darids, let the mortal man rejoice, let them be terrified just calmly back on the closed doors even the trouble-sorrow, the weight of uncertain tomorrow.

    And while millions of glowings teach many manipulable parades and circuses, the wiser one thinks one by one, chews the drunken memories of his past, his debatable earthly things! Where to where? And how at all, how next? By January, the postman will knock the yellow checks again, the plumber will come. Are organic waste containers taken away at all?!

    It was ...

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    IMITATION FASHION

     

    Like hypocritical doubters, they stumble towards obscure, dark pages. Every career step taken towards a more comfortable, predictable, but treacherous promise is a sawed-off rung only for failure and success. They shake after every sip.

    Their otherworldly crypt representation is an embalmed mummy skeleton after frothy sips. They believe that the provably uncertain map of their future can create plenty of proud bubbles even behind their grimaces.

    The future can only be a reflection of the sticky present. It quickly darkens to average career opportunities. With a pounding heart, the calendar days of the year trudge harder and harder. He who loudly proclaims and kneads and grinds himself will perish in an arbitrary time.

    He who expects wounds and mean merits at the same time will repent of this present false, dishonest world sooner than many sons of nobody have gone to Nirvana. Existence knocks on everyone's door unexpectedly, suddenly...

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    HUMAN DARS

     

    I remember the restrained silence, suffocating rock-solid indifference, when the very first paper-trumpet sound, like the crackling, ominous horn signal, seemed to rise from the pitch-black nights. My anxious life could hardly get new strength and presence of mind. Like a wretched outcast, I was huddled in agony, in a slimy embryo-pose on my bed, while above my head red-gold-yellow exploding rockets split the pitch-black robe of the sky in two with a thunderous blast.

    Nineveh, the landless, dirty city, was once again in a whirlwind of people, celebrating with gusto, as if the pregnant, tried, impoverished everyday life of Today and Tomorrow no longer mattered, less like the thick, mossy kelp of the deep sea; a sticky buzz of wasps was brought and carried by the squatting, icy breeze. A buzzing buzz of air also reverberated from the foams of the Danube, where crowds were waiting for midnight, and everyone seemed fake-happy: they turned into grimacing grins ...

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    THE CUTE BLOODHOUND

     

    He immediately pricked up his pointed ears at the sexy lady's kissing will, his small, evil eyes suddenly flickered as soon as he saw me. Little chocolates, pieces of sugar, and expensive words could not satisfy his animalistic nature. He was said to be a teenager, the size of a well-developed buffalo calf. However, instinct just wouldn't let me; secretly, he even immediately guessed my panicky, terrifying fear.

    "Calm down, calm down! It doesn't hurt, she's just making friends!" the beautiful lady said to me, laughing mischievously, like a supermodel Pocahantas. But in her curious angelic gaze, chasing questions immediately flashed up: Who did I come to? Who am I looking for?! - I could only stand with my feet rooted to the ground, the conscious terror hibernates. "I thought I'd invite Kegye to coffee, if possible?" - "This is really very considerate, sweet Lord, and he even brought flowers, but unfortunately, I...

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    TRUNCATED HOLIDAY

     

    The city smells like Christmas. Ornaments flicker from the trees,the light chimes-electric! Yet everywhere the shame of the holiday floats. The babies left in the warm cages of incubators are taken care of by angels, while the suicides go to the next World.

    In the free kitchen, they are fighting again, or just pushing-scramble. The image of the meanness of an aunt in fox fur was also abundant; perhaps she wanted to destroy the refuge of her loneliness of her own volition.

    The fancy catfishing party queens speculating on V. I. P. darids use formal pseudo-gestures to show how much love they can give and receive. The latest Playstation and X-box are back. And while in the artistic photographs with the star photographers mommy and Daddy and the Chinchilla are grinning, one wonders: Who and when did they make a mistake?! Have children become manipulative puppets?!

    The dead sleep in the cemetery! Some eternal-lamps watch over their happy drea...

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    MIRROR-WORLD

     

    I was looking at the virgin sheet of white angels outside, which was slowly falling on my head from the clouds! The swans performed their celestial dance on the mirror-ice, and I felt that my soul was sinking in the silence, and the cold was threatening. I didn't want to understand the world: which is vast and complex! I wanted to know which mirror-self I would have to deal with, the roots of my fears in myself - should I look with a wolf's eye?

    The pale bridal face of the sky turned into a dove soul. It was beautiful. I looked at the merciless gaze of the freezing frost and deciphered what was allowed and what I absolutely had to do: I should have listened silently to the sounds of eternal love, paying attention to everything and searching every minute.

    The current Mirror world has become a tiny particle stretching into infinity, in whose crystal-eye the entire universe has turned into a diamond: the struggle of man remains only a dream,...

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    BLESSED PINE TREE

     

    Graciously, wisely, and with many a feather-cluster, in the sanctified evening, in the warmth of a small but happy family, in a cosy and starlit room, sits a Christmas tree.

    On its four-branched crown a pearly star shone, and with its needle-leaves it gently caressed the many rainbow ornaments wreathed around it. Among them were fruitful and fiery-red apples, golden honeyed nuts and all the good things of earth, many winter cakes and hazelnuts, crystal balls moulded from snowflakes by angels and elves, and many ornaments, like a gentleman or a pretty lady, dressed up in the most important symbol of Christmas!

    For the holiday can and should only be celebrated with family and friends, and the crowned king of the forest: The hallowed Christmas tree, like a family member, stands guard as a kind and elderly, bearded grandfather over the merciful and everlasting moments of festive happiness.

    Its fragrance: pleasantly honeyed, as if it were a ...

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    YOU MUST DO MORE!

     

    You shouldn't get tired yet, leave it for good and give up everything you've acquired! It wouldn't help if you failed right away. Don't move yet!

    You can't run away from your problems and worries, although a peaceful coastal landscape where people are much more understanding and kinder would often be better. Your stigma-soul, your bleeding heart grinds between the millstones of doubts. Believe me: even though today Man is still a rogue, a traitor to himself, maybe there will come an Age in which there will be free will again, the desire to create a workshop.

    You would have to wait patiently, in ambush, like a genie in the sacred hiding place of bottles, and listen like a waiting stone in a statue, which the sculptor will probably carve one day! You are silent - even though you are completely on your own - now you can protect me firmly and protectively, no matter how late the choir of archangels may be!

    You were once ...

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    BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR

     

    The year is slowly drawing to a close, the manipulative mood is weakened, the traitorous heart is born, the careful mind is being brainwashed again, and the Spirit makes a sale; staggering, half-stupid, the hard-earned years pass over us. Man has long been accustomed to the rattling tiger roar. Who knows what the next decade of circus cages will bring?

    And while some consider it a selfish and stubborn mission to jump, knowing that they have a castle of cards that will eventually collapse, they must resist all the evil, evil powers of the world! We shouldn't let this mutt drag the average down into dirty, poisonous waves today. Is there a storm coming or are you just afraid of another hyena-throat? The vast womb of our hangman-time is now a single twinkling, burnt-out candle flame...

    Tomorrow's promises are no longer needed; It's like a sensational ending, free robberies are overlooked wherever possible. And now, as Ady had proclaimed,...

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    IN MY DREAMS

    My dreams answer so quietly, almost insinuately, and are entangled in a web of memories by tactful silence, searching for a missed greeting, a deliberate handshake, the weight-meaning-of the unspoken words, which one Foolish-loving heart-chalice confesses to another in a dreaded worldly hour.

    The preserved cave-deep of The Hangman's time still deliberately hides its own manipulative, petty little plans; sooner or later, man will find out that the much-tolerated stigma - past all had a causal meaning.

    ...Here stands a shipwrecked soul, who gave much, and could not gain much in return; his vulnerable soul was opened to whom it was fitting, and while the great pretense was taking place, the superstitious Lady betrayed him, for he was poor and miserable. I wonder what will be inherited from this postmodern, absurd hyena-age, which the average may never have mercy, and the man whom they trample. Take care of my cherished dreams and memories! You realize, what if?&...

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    CULTURE-FATE

    Dear poet friend! Well tell me? What about the literary situation right now? Why is the laughing mouth of hobby writers against you?! Just feel free to admit what you are, what will happen to you?!

    Do you want to stay a puffy, dilettante rickshaw, or an experimental avantgarde innovator who is not a petty ass lick or servant to anyone?!

    Once upon a time, you even lingered yourself in alms by the grace of lords who, in your sentence, searched for and sought the lasting, immortality; not yours! Yours! Alas, everything has become a malicious, cheap liar! After all, nowadays, if the writer also stays on a hunger tap, as a scabies beggar, he would rather surrender or capitulate in front of the camps of lightly handing out the prizes, maybe even bow!

    Nowadays, vile philosophy spreads in the field of crooked mirrors, just like free thought, while the word loses its redemptive charm for which it was just created; that shocking flaming will, be a noble goal tool...

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    JINGLE-JUNGLE NIGHT

     

    The night is still, even the sanda-sneaky tip leg preserves it, and perhaps it hides it from curious looks; the dawn would break his blood-red dragon eyes like a petal from the winter rooftops, clouds of cotton candy billowing from rumbling chimneys puff.

    In addition to the darkness, the unfriendly smell of passing and formalin also leaked back into the attic holes; needle-toothed rats chewed on the avittous gems of Hungarian literature. Even on the violin, the stretched string sits on top of the satellite dish houses.

    Early noises are needed sooner in the city of Nineveh: scrambling cars, buses, truck wheels humming cobblestones grind on the cracked frosty asphalt. In Christmas tree-scented shops, there are as many color-miriad cheat-kittens daydreaming, as if they already knew in secret: pensions will be on their feet sooner if they barely stay out of it.

    Old mother sells fragrant cinnamon roast chestnuts around the corner, on her tre...

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    COLOR-LOST FOG-KNIGHTS

     

    You can hardly meet a listening crown witness in the field of secrets! As an obstacle course, he builds his massive ramparts around himself – to decipher his thinking is almost a total inability! A knocking shoe heel above it is a black piano keyboard mystery, while the Spirit Empire is a eloquent but unbreakable shellfish sheath! In your career, everything can turn on the triangle of total bankruptcy!  The stamp of untouchables flourishes among the insignia: as bacteria, it occupies any host and, examining selfish truths of interest, immediately reveals the fever of their bold lies!

    The opposite pair of carelessness or killer interest thus seems to reconcile and yoke the honor made a pile of rubble! – All visceral wishes are already dying! Even the saving Morality could be a shadow duty! To exhaust and anesthetize insidious suspicions at once; it is surprisingly similar to a mature routine and cannot tolerate the objectities of the s...

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    DECEMBER DRAFT

     

     Whether it's the Restless hermit or the sorcerer, I'm watching him unfold his humiliated flowers tonight. I can feel it: other signs are coming, other visions, like the full moon, the screaming Moonlight behind the bars, I am seen differently by the skeletal web of peeled trees. An zigzag, sprawling shadow first conjectures me, like a magic Sesame lock, the filth of being is attached to a restless soul.

    Now the Dark is spinning its syrupy chains around me, threatening at once, then waiting-suddenly being sucked in by my hesitant, selfish attitude. I would light a lamp, if I could, but it is feared that in the only room, only one lost ghost - shadow could now remain my faithful companion.

    The planes at supersonic speed, even lunar space rockets, are all gone. They took the love, the sweetheart with them. The last ray of light fell asleep. All those who wanted to leave have already left, those who stayed here will tolerate one more, t...

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    INCARNATION OF LIGHT

     

     He is a temporary resident of this earthly existence; I would plunge into the foam of my non-existence just once if I could learn from everyone's selfish mistakes! With a stateless fragmented will, I am tolerably able to build my way, while I know for sure that a bright career is not waiting for me: I have a history of witness in my skull! I would try in vain to break out from behind my cage limits, to be truly known; but in me a frightened, orphaned child clenches his little hands forbidding!

    My anxiety loneliness also grows daily when I venture out into hyena-rodent daylight! With someone, it would be nice to finally tear down the walls if we could celebrate a new start together! - In my bones the cold of the cosmos is raging: before creation a melee of silence is ringing in my ears! The night's naughty, nasty dreams have worn me down!

    It is as if the Pearl of hope is expanding in her dear eyes; as if she wants to protect and help...

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    THEY CLOSE THEIR EYES

     

    Now the world closes its eyes again, the conscience lurks dormant. A few minutes-a man and A Celebrity hand out cheap, dilute bean soup from the warm steam of the blahan pots. Vulnerable poverty would roar away the vengeful anger if it had anything - but perhaps it had long since been sold. Between the workbenches, the vices are silent. It is not worth buying mouse-chewed bread, but only three-day-old, measured bodag.

    Invisible, yet increasingly discernible, Moloch preaches his new demagogic words; on crypt-like faces a plethora of troubles is multiplying, and because the system demands cheaper and cheaper labor, even the defenseless, vulnerable little man becomes crumpled.

    Teenage mothers give birth to babies in a blinded world where there is no longer, and cannot be, character, will, honor - laden corruption, all the more wasting our members. There are more and more people who are eagerly envious of those whom fate has given them, and a few sto...

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    ODE TO MEANNESS

     

    People, especially these days, are often scared. The humility, the rock-deep silence, which is tolerated deepens its depths, if it can no longer reveal its inner personality to anyone else, because it can remain faithful to itself, and while it is out there chased, vilified, trampled, like greedy, tenacious worm-bugs the homeless, the penniless, the crowd of Little People-as a winged door, what is forever unseen can no longer be revealed to any one.

    It would be good in this confusion of Nineveh, Babel, where the strong still oppresses the helpless weak, if they looked deep into the heart of the deceived and betrayed, and there they might see the one essence that was rarely shown. But I can't do that. As many men are so many outrages, and we have long since ceased to be dust and ashes, a lowly pile of mud!

    Being can no longer put order, except as a common judge The Executioner-death! And it is long past the hardworking, childish wonder; that i...

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    THE FINAL WINTER ACT

     

     The last season of winter is coming. A frosty sob ripens to maturity in a clean, vacuum: the Winter tears its bridesmaid, its Dunna in flakes! From the captivity of the hollows, the sleeper is now waking up. The Earth is spinning, like a ball in the hands of children with holes in the ground, besieging the heavens. A disappointing betrayal pulls me back and pulls me back into the grim present…

     But I still know, I can't believe when and how? - Physical pain tortures me, and the blood flow of my organs is eaten up by a murderous disease! Suddenly I am afraid of reality-blessed with animal hair myself, like Enkidu, and as a prisoner in prison, I cling to my own doubt, and everywhere disillusionment comes to me as a skinned guest! Am I, perhaps, late for life, and I do not know whether it is out there that blinds me more and more and I can only grope or the failure that reaches me universally everywhere?

     On the eyelids st...

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    SAFE-CONSOLATION

     

     Who can be lulled to sleep by the snow falling like a feather-May he still be happy –  On my face the ice flakes also produce frozen tears! The snow of the executioner drips thickly through the grit of his judgment; I feel that wherever I may turn, the unstable ground beneath me could become a precipice! From behind snow-scaly laces, your cheery eyes fire at me because you hold me tight so I can feel immortal – you will never let me go!

    Between me and your simmering Swan figure, the devastating distance is growing! On my mournful eyelashes, there are icicles stabbing my soul-seeing soul! The killer snow will pour and slowly pour in! I would wrap your fragile petal body in a quilt, lest you catch a cold, to comfort me in my sorrowful blunders of fate! Your blossoming rosebud lips are softly searching the secrets of my shipwrecked chubby body; your tamed gaze is a wolf's eye in my face and smells! I could explore the universe with ...

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    REPORT ON FROST

     

     The cold-bearded, Gray old man of life, who longed to freeze everything, came knocking, came with a cold-angry mood, - surrounded by howling stars! The lakes, unflinching and stubborn mountain-ridges, which sinned with their purity, were frozen. It was cold, and trembled several times, and fire at once, suddenly, it was winter, and the geometric curve of the graceful mouth was selfishly torn apart by its nose-fruit dripping like an icicle!

     The ten or fifteen degrees were deceivers, careful firemen still shone like cops, that somewhere could still warm up the prodigal people! - Time's running! The essential and important part of Eternity has frozen and died, and yet beneath the unconscious surface, the heaven of smiles flaunts and flourishes!

     The cells of tongues were laced like lace Cloths by the frost, and the uninhabited tunnels of the vascular networks were frozen to the ground! Man, now that twilight darkness sends his d...

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    BLIND-WORLD

     

     Empty, white-spotted, Crystal-glassy transparent space. You're the snow-spotted world. But what else can one do? he sets out not to be overwhelmed by bitter pessimism: self-pity and laziness. I myself preachers gaping, loud throat when I weigh slowly a hundred pounds, and besides I am neither a macho nor Adonis:

     As a hedgehog, I will grow thorns on my soul, or I will be cast down by righteous despair! I still have a lot of work to do! The truth behind the lines of letters-my content silabbed to solve the riddles of the witnessing past, so that I can better understand what is going on inside: at the bottom of the present time!

     Because there can be no way to just suck and blow the air out like an idiot, and not to promote humanity, empathy, tolerance, and in many cases: Humor is the only medicine! The final, received rescue! But we cannot know anything about this, because we are not able to take note of the human lesson, the e...

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    WARMING AWARENESS

     

     Now come the crummy, heating bill years, with warm fire, voluntary surrender to winter! The truth is knocking on me, beating have one's fair share. And a number of wolf-crying stars gently shine through the cosmos of nights! Wreaths of rose hips were spread as a sacrificial gift by busy children, elders: they honored those who sinned even in death! - The winter season will alert you with tears of ice, and in the shelter of mistletoe, but it would be good: for a single, eternal moment, only broken moment, the Roe-eyed Merry-girl of the earthly Universe could embrace you!

     Every day the frost bites me like a knife's teeth – the orphaned adult cries on me: even he is quite child-minded, for he may be left alone for good; the dance of the cutting blades creaks beneath the crunching feet. My mood is getting dumber, draughtier! I must lead myself, even in a season of life-changing inhumanity, and my beloved's smile is wiped away by t...

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    DEEP POINTS

     

    To wash out of this pathetic world with impunity: come on?! You don't even notice it, and you carry with you heavy chains-tons of Sisyphus ringing every day, which first devour your organs, and then perhaps even Alzheimer's-bearing thoughts.

    The merry sailors and party queens of the easy-going life may never understand why it is so difficult to hand-write and post yellow checks instead of quoting the plethora of transactions on the internet. Your truths, like the prickly pots of mirrors, are scattered, even against the wind, - now it would be better to be a hermit, up on the bald mountaintop, where the bird may not walk. From there, look down on the self-prostitute, evil Age, which for a decade has been infecting, destroying, and profiting at its own expense. Eyes closed, feeling to listen and listen. Why do you have to, like a pathetic wombat or a blind mole, dig in the damp tunnels of existence, push, and mend?!

    It is as if the great, i...

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    SPARROWS CHIRP

     

    I already know. They no longer seek nor invite you into the acid shower of love and friendships. Even the memories of the homely past have become a shadow among the coddled creatures. At any time, the dead-wanton can be trapped in the sediment of meaningless life, and the distorted Apple-cob handshakes, calculating promises are only good for someone to understand that there is mud-kicking going on here on all levels.

    Huge, aching blindness is a useless fate even for faces constantly wanting to ask questions. Unanswered, hopping, tripping among lofty wrecks, sham-prophets shining in gaps, the decaying city.

    Pain, but also lazy indifference is squeezed out of the tired forehead. From below it can be continued with difficulty, for he who willingly gives out his passion for Golgotha boldly finally collapses dead and white in some deserted street noise.

    A resentful loud gasp continues to be heard as the late awakenings of this now wicked wor...

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    DIGGAG WARNING

     

    Keep moving back, carefully, until the fourth X is besieging. Inwardly drawn into myself, deliberately kept out of the circles, for Man is once again a despicable bastard, and can hardly be trusted. Bypass everything we periodic, final. Ghost-dreams of the living.

    On the table there was a half kilo of bread, like bodag, which was given to sailors for fasting. Eggs are not enough for scrambled eggs. The smell of fried french toast moves between my nose hair. There's no-brainer, no-brainer, no-brainer out there.

    My wounded heart is slowly beating out another heart attack, my lungs are breathing like a pump; the rescuer is more than forty minutes late before the oxygen supply immediately stops! They may say holiness over my head!

    My grimacing smile is rather snarling, like the Restless Wolf-pit, standing still, vile-practiced on everyone, for this is what remains. Misery is not a dream these days-but it is becoming more tangible. Long ...

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    TRAPPED OUTSIDE

     

    I'm listening to the old old man's moaning at night... The dirty-gray foam of the old Danube, like a pile of dung juice, brings swirling black hole ice rolls with accelerated running service. He has cast huge shadows on me so many stars and man-wrecks cherish among themselves dethroned, spawned neon lights.

    The city is once again in a boisterous, mean-spirited crowd of people. It is as if many would rather seek the Lost Treasure Chest of Darius, and seek it with greedy plunder, than embrace love, the good word of human friendship. A snaking queue at one of the pretend soup kitchens, where one or two celebs, starlets still appear. ,Ah! Dear Artist! I really liked your song on TV! If you'd like to hear about the cancer of my sad childhood!"The answer is no longer there, because two Gorilla-brained, grim bodyguards are already there, and whether they are a desirable class alien or a K. U. K. they're pulling me out of the party Bustle. ,Ge...

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    FALLS, SIGNS

     


    Cage and silence! The infectious disease runs up and down in me, perhaps just like the useless, ragged life, with which I have only traces to do. There is a plan, a reality, a memory. It must be three in the morning. I lay frozen to a skeleton in my frozen room, and visions and wandering images rush: What Would my little, pathetic life have been like in Bali, in faraway Berzengacia? Would my beloved have nurtured me with loyalty and not merely comforted me in someone else's arms?  Sometimes everything seems so far away!

    I walk the planned, manipulative ladder of life, and realize with horror that my plans and dreams still could not come true. My friends, my promises twist foolishly, leaving me ugly, ugly. I can no longer trust either The man who lied to himself or the order of the world, if it existed at all. I growl like an old man bear to my own prodigal shame. A,, what next?!"your question keeps surrounding you.

    In a Dark...

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    IT'S LIKE A CIRCUS

     

    Here is my life friends! The Earth is slowly tripping away, falling into a swamp, and the many Minute-Man victims in Little No Man's land are deliberately lost in their own quiet despair. Before us, everything flows: jobs, careers, hunger wages, privileges on benefits. All the propaganda lies that are officially spread, just like infectious diseases, are almost superfluous. Recklessness or perverse pathos go all the same here.

    We're stuck among ourselves. Western Europe is increasingly on the map. Perhaps it would be better and more useful to go on foot if there were no more despicable doubts and manipulatively compromising obstacles. It is necessary to clarify almost all the cheap-junk parameters: Where Are we so far?! Already below the Frog's bottom?! Can we only be present by doing thirty-six hours a week?

    Let's take a look around! For twenty-one years, a raucous Eldorado of brooding, muttering stooge-monkeys has been holding i...

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    DECEMBER FILTH SENSATION

     

    December success, appreciation-chasing sensation-drawings. They broadcast food distribution all over the place, they mix interests and loves, or they change hands succinctly, like caustic Alkali in water, so that they can deservedly earn recognition by creating free commercials for new music albums. "Help the other! Call the donation line!” "there are no tears on the grinning faces of multiple advertisements, false promises are lit up like the brilliant but self-igniting glitter of Christmas tree decorations.

    The cut film footage would be degraded to fragments: one or two well-to-do retirees try hard to keep reporters in an encouraging fake good mood, while they support drunken bickering homeless people for the sake of the crossfire of cameras. The whole world is on a festive, loud alert; they have forgotten only the most important thing: to give sincere emotions in exchange for their goodness.

    As a living net, flour and sugar are...

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    AGE-IMAGE

     


    It is as if the human wreckage were lying in delirious dazes choked with a drug smile everywhere, falling into the blind, deliberately gullible ravines of themselves. In contrast, some of the occasional Divas issued to snobs chatter as if they already knew everything better than those who had worn the gallows benches of the Inquisition universities for seven full years.

    What could have gone so easily into ruin, sinking into a muddy, sticky nothingness?! Among the neurotic tremors of the train tracks, where even the occasional suicide flirts may prefer to hide; for everyone is already an integral part of the eternal game of cat and mouse chess, everyone is suspicious, who is not nodding wake up Hansel, John yes- man the Freethink arises for himself that there may still be some hiding people who like to use their convoluted brains, their sunflower heads. It would not be cheap for anyone to push himself away easily, like a ridiculous piece of cloth th...

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    TRAP SITUATIONS

     

    A man becomes a lowly pod of dust, slouching down to the calculating little Kings, to the camp of the powerful, while begging for a bribe; he becomes a mouse-hole, where a hunting cat can easily fit. It no longer takes part in the mass development of the world, but rather is forced to tolerate, in the manner of human wreckage, the fact that the technical cyber-civilization, destroying the peace of everyday life, creates new conditions of contact.

    He buys a tie and a very expensive suit, since the dog no longer cares that style should not dictate the latest trendy standards - rather, certain immutable human laws should be obeyed in good faith; if it is necessary to falsify documents, documents, if it is necessary to get close to the honey pot jobs offered to the" privileged", and to skimp on the benefits that triple.

    It is only the increasingly difficult, mean everyday life, the routinely persistent disillusionment, the degeneracy that m...

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    BETWEEN INTERMEDIATE BANDS

     

    Only for a heartbeat, until halfway between the brain antennae and the body's molecular cells, at boundary points, the unknown dead zone Point, which is held captive by the timed countdown according to human law, becomes palpable. Out there is still a vast world disguised as conscious, but with false logic, sinking into the filth of decisions in a glaring, hypocritical domain. Because the catapult of life in any case takes petty revenge on the fallible man; he lures her to sleep, flatters her quietly, and later lures her in, and when she thinks her life is flowing in an orderly fashion, she is ambushed by a deliberate-unexpected, relentless, silent heart attack-death.

    Even now it seems that the average man, who is toiling for the wages of hunger, is forced to sit in the No-Man's-land of this century, which may never truly be his own: lest there be any misunderstanding that" some " will never be here either world-changing,more harmonious p...

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    VIEWERS' ROW

     

    I should be anonymous among the rows of spectators. Can there still be a faithful friend, a loving Dear, who faithfully accompanies me along my bumpy bumpy road? My shipwrecked life, playing Russian roulette over a shaky precipice, finally reveals and gives itself completely.

    I now balance like ominous times of the day - fistfuls of teardrop bitterness in the grip of an invisible palm. Blinking servant-shelter - not so much - never comforted, could send light.

    I would need the Suspension Bridges of Being so that I can hold on purposefully even alone. I've been pushed onto blind tracks many times on purpose. This unworthy, weedy, stunted Age has learned neither empathy nor human attitude without me!

    Time, like a comical patron, urges us to do something, to act, always seemingly without a response. Here, the commissar's authority is always the hair-czar, and the scientists or the well-intentioned leaders no longer speak on purpose...

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    BETWEEN YET AND NOT AT ALL

     

    An invisible chain is hanging over me. One eye is to be afraid, while the other is to beware. Deceptive career-dream-cherishing net-channels can pull the luring honey string away at any time, even under the noses of others. The earthly, needy, eye-catching stigma is worth more when you can see real tears than laughter bubbling up with fake-Maier smiles on grinning baby cheeks.

    I am like a fat spindle; I bind my shipwrecked past, my wasteful memories of desire with unbreakable Ariadne threads. I whisper into whispering ears my honesty, the pillars of my frail life. Anyone who sold himself a long time ago and now expects profit and recognition at any price stares and stalks down here with wolf eyes.

    It is known: he remains underground, without a dream career, he can hit his ankle by the careless researcher he stumbled into. A complex pyramid of corruptible faces stares at us usurper; as if the fallible, man-made virtues had long been squeezed out o...

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    TIME-SILENCER

     

    Between heaven and earth, single-minded, worn-out chip bags enrich the green vegetation in the middle of the ring. Defiant human grimaces peep at the fists of skenehead larks, where face-to-face communication is still fashionable. Where a little ceded, womanizing sly gets a horn of plenty from the tabloid media. The "I'll show you later" smolders in its prime, and just for that reason, self-consciousness - otherwise anyone can defame you: The crust is thick on the cryptic-indifference sketch of faces, and the false boasting is even thicker!

    The stage of the leprosy city is at once deceptive and insidious, as if leaden, cumbersome nodules are emerging from everywhere. Every day, new good-sounding lies are transmitted from the raven-spangled branches of Bamba's TV antennas, and one is rightfully forced to tear one's hair out, asking: Is there anyone else who believes this?! - Hungry children's starry eyes can turn into sharp cries i...

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    DEEP POLINT

    Woe to him who does not even know himself  to defiantly refuse, 
    or die simply and quietly  - and can't be silent,  he tolerated listening in
    silence with his mouth closed.  
    He cannot escape his selfish, judgmental fate:  to a
    love that is undying even from certainty,  nor to a tropical paradise,  from whom
    worthy retribution cannot be torn apart  his promise, which is then fulfilled with
    interest.    

    A worm gnaws at his brainwashed brain and heart.  A dried thorn remained 
    also the misunderstood declaration of loyalty.  - You don't need a hand, a hug, or
    comfort  - woe to the one who needs to be alone  to bear the cross he endured.  He
    can't be happy,  agreement, relationship harmony;  an irritable temper gathers in
    his soul,  lava rage all the way  to the look that cuts like a scalpel ...

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    MANIPULATED TEMPTATIONS

     

    Our days become nothing to be manipulated, because we always miss something. We cower like miserable dogs for paltry pittance in front of powerful, good-for-nothing little kings, stooge businessmen, crooked lawyers - and we miss something in every Deed.

    Because some secret element, some human attitude, some tolerant way of life, has been reduced to a missing link. It is in vain to try the donkey-ladder of prosperity, the sehonnai, bitang scholasticism of assertion, in vain to cajole, to mouth, to fight for it - if the Whole is already lacking much!

    Some privileged people may be content with privileged luxury dream suits, - the individual is missing something. They long in vain for a happier, settled, settled Existence - because Man, reduced to an animal, is missing something.

    We would plant the tiny spark of the All in your golden-hearted coffin, but the priceless star-eyes lack something. The World lacks humanity - Man lacks something....

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    FORWARNING

     

    Like pathetic idiots, the darting pernahajders from a disco loiter in the streets, while the dingy clouds of dirty, grey dawns turn into streams of water. Not one yet wonders what will be next, and that Life should begin.

    I'm often tired of being poked by the Real. I'm disillusioned with the sneaking, sneaking silence, which, like a snitch, follows me like a shadow, and tries to suck me in like a shadow. I have become disillusioned with promises that ring as well as with empty consolations that somehow we should endure and prosper here in this no-man's land.

    For this is what is already being heard from everywhere by the eagerly nodding and bleating sheep and enthusiastic goats: 'Oh, how good it is that new projects, plans and dreams are deliberately being put on the back burner, and if anyone speaks up, it is an untimely accident or an accidental assassination, lest anyone should be held responsible! What for?!

    Ahead of ...

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    NIGHTS PREGNANT

    Dear! I had another horrible-horrible hyena-throat night last night. At three o'clock in the morning a violent arrhythmic palpitation of the heart signalled that my cells and molecules were no longer the same and that something inside me was consciously decaying, rotting. The shadows of the night had suddenly grown, and nightmares greeted me; I fell into a molasses pit of threatening darkness, unable to pull myself out, for fangs were gnawing at my plump, fat flesh. Such beastly-brutal nights I have seldom had in thirty-one years!

    I was suddenly startled, as I usually was. My cushion, like a lost soft object, lay at rest beside my bunk-bed, while I thought of you, shivering under the warm blanket! I was thinking about your last photo, when you wore a flower-patterned home, because you wanted to look responsible and serious, but were you really happy and content and not just pretending to manipulate me consciously! Your superstitious saintly look must have been sad even...

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    SURROUNDED

     

    It's business as usual. Most of us are a babbling bunch of sheep, hesitantly bellowing or explaining catastrophic idiocy! For the worms, maggots, worms, sly worms, without exception, always have to bargain with, or even submit to, a superior System which exploits and manipulates its brainwashed victims in a puff of smoke.

    What they refused to understand was why so many loyal ricinus in the stretched tunnels of the bowels, where the stench remains, like a ferryboat-land full of puppets, are replacing bidermeyer-style pre-Century confectioners' shops with new gyms. From grotesque and absurd situations, any action, any escape, can become futile!

    Why do you feel that, as a European, you are still alone and surrounded; like someone who has fallen between rails, a slow, dying montage binds you, suffocates you. You can no longer be at home or free in your city: you are a slavish Sisyphusian beast, carrying weighted chains! They point at each oth...

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    FAREWELL

     

    Someone died in the house again. The trumpets of Jericho were silenced, while the choir of the archangels was silenced... A stormy Zhivago wind raged outside, but strangely enough it did not tear the fluttering veil of the cedar. The light of the tiny, pissy tea-tubes illuminated the garbage bin next to the lift, where cockroaches and beetles often fought their petty power struggles among themselves for some food.

    Is life that simple?! Dust and ashes, stray memories left behind? An old, delicate lady, in the form of Miss Daisy, always offered me freshly baked meringue, and while I was curiously looking in her library room for secret manuscripts and books, long since lost, I could hear some of Mozart's and Beethoven's musical overtures coming through from the living room. When he was in a bad mood, he preferred to play Chopin and Schubert.

    Where could all these years have gone? And where have his selfish, despicable family members and rela...

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    FULL-GLASS

    If it weren't for the big-world back-idiocy of Life imitating the camera; when even noir-clichés are something other than real romance. The actresses chew gum and gumdrops at will, run around with their smartphones during breaks in filming, and when they get close to the camera, they don't look like their former, more vigorous selves. And they have invited the same pathetic, grotesque embryos a dozen times to their respective tabloid shows, just to make the already fast-moving time pass a little more quickly.

    The media in question are going mad with this kind of thing, when the ratings are at Himalayan heights, while none of the presenters are direct enough or service-minded enough to contribute to the great central whole with a poem or prose.

    While they are constantly kissing four-legged pets in the curious crosshairs of cameras, when has it ever been said once: I would try to make friends with the simple, ordinary people! The radio shows are perh...

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    LIVING THE USELESS FUTURE

    You want to hurry it more and more. When you're a child you hysterically demand instant adulthood so you can be taken seriously. When you grow up you are often unable to decide which side you are on. And later, stumbling half a foot to your grave, you realize that you've been left infinitely alone, unable to let anyone worthy of you near you. At half-past three in the morning, you crawl up and down your room like a wandering spirit, because you want to scrape together the shattered fragments of the night, just like your ruined life.

    As if you were the only one who felt that waiting, hoping, hoping was almost laughably absurd, grotesquely futile. It is demonstrably all-consuming, a black-hole mass, like most of the cat-and-mouse chess games forced upon you in everyday life. You can still hear the members of the drunken cyber-ass generation, converted from discos, throwing bottles at the walls of houses, which become polluted, and the whole city resembles a huge flea...

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    AGE-WASTING

    Countdown. Like when a baby tries to walk; first he balances on four legs with a hesitant wobble, then he tries a little more daringly on two, then he falls, fidgeting and tumbling. But while one of the babies shakes itself easily and continues to try, the weepers are not so easily comforted by their parents.

    And so we move on for days, months, and later decades, and yet in many cases we feel that little changes. As they approach the compromises of solutions, there are always one or two wisecracking idiot-buffoons disguised as smart-asses who trash existing film ideas, workable screenplays, new contemporary literary volumes that have gone beyond many a certain limit! Why is it that the only way to get to the "forbidden literature" is through a tent of tinfoil under the counter, the increasingly bumpy road?! And when will parks be created in a meaningful way, in addition to permanent tree felling and tree planting, so that the overcrowded city does not continue to...

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    YOU WOULD BE TROUBLE!

    The problem is that you've been used to being preached at for a long time, and they say the falsehoods and lies for you! The only problem is that you can be fired with immediate effect at any time, while your buddy-buddy colleagues are flattening you like a galaxy of galaxies. Of course, if you're a keen ass-kisser, you can just as well pull out comfortably until you die. And if you're clever, you can even catch goldfish in a desert that's long since dried up.

    In the crowds, someone always disappears, so no one will miss you. And since they may know who the real culprits are, it's common practice to focus on the humble, ever-at-hand scapegoats. And, of course, they will routinely turn out a few more sycophantic sycophants who, like cancerous, pus-carrying cells, have already become part of a particular System.

    And you already feel that you would be in big trouble if it turned out that you are not desirable enough for some "Headed assholes...

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    LITANIA

     

    I who have travelled all roads: between ironed moods and mother-sad jerks, I have of necessity turned in drooling findings, whorish puppets have fisted at once madness-trend, calculating loves!

    I drag myself with swollen legs like a rude crutch: a native of drum-thought! The screams of the lousy dead could not be carried by the howling winds as I confess and judge! In my shamed and penniless ways, the worms of the cycle bite into the flesh, seeking to make a career for themselves! They will poke the urns of my ashes!

    Ambiguous Silence yet in vain surrounds me today! I'm being insidiously dragged lower and lower by the insidious trenches of self-devouring self-devouring-tinuses! Even the gnawed bones of omnipotent bliss have been taken from me by the vultures of the repaying vultures! Between their teeth they have broken Cassandra's prophesies, all-weary Prophets! - Our train-tracked bodies, bound in a single thread of rail-our world, ...

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    WATER CORDS

     

    Like a bruise, cheap, bawdy memories of slaps on the wrist pierce the walls of the soul, the everyday calvary of a murder, even though something only happened upstairs. Maybe they just left their imagination open, surrounded by bars. Maybe they recognised the little mother with the bump on her head, who wanted to pay for her medicine with the bouquet of flowers sold at the bus stop, because she hadn't eaten anything that day and her stubborn self-esteem made her wait in line at the soup kitchen.

    It is not all the same how and whether the individual deceives himself, or whether the rotten-egg consciousness grows an idiotic brainwashed obsession into a veritable giant, instead of remaining open to the intersection of questions. Where did so many of you come from with tons of faecal dumps of social-social problems hanging in seemingly unsolvable Gordian knots! What can the individual, overweight, sheepish minute-man want to do, to disguise himself in seco...

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    CLOSING CIRCLE

    Compassion may not even be measured. It comes with unexpected swiftness, like silent death or the blockage of blood vessels. It is felt in all directions, but only a very, very few exceptions are those who deserve it. You could at least hope for an unattainable balance, as you want to both survive and become a fog at the same time. It would be good to throw out the pettiness, vulgarity and abusiveness, because they are not needed.

    It would be good if no one doubted the obvious One-truths, at most the variety of manipulative, deceptive promises. It would be better to take hold of all four corners of the agitated Time and stand upside down in a tottering stupor to see who the liars are who could not lie. In action, in persistent waiting - in vain - you could not get back what you believed. The unexpected emergence of your subconscious is first present in your curved-mirrored nightmares and prompts you to a relentless reckoning of the relationship between the word and the Rea...

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    PERSISTENT ROTTING

     

    As the days rush by, I feel as if a sea of fog is rolling over me, the sinister world of sanda-sunyi is coming closer and closer. If I stay on the ground a little longer, I'm already at the point where - perhaps - there's no more.

    As the flattening, sickly heart beats inside me, threatening me with a heart attack, and I am often left out of the decreed Fate-plans by the over-tired Tomorrows, I suddenly shake myself and retreat into my mole-ridden cavity.

    As now everything and everyone is give-and-take, do-or-die, and no one would care that the brainwashed reason is running to its selfish, idiotic doom, while the dumbed-down intellect is only an extra, and the peak is when everyone can disguise himself and become a Celebb.

    As it all seeps through me, like a stinking sewer or manure, and I keep getting caught up in the camp of lying giddies who don't want to help or improve the situation, but deliberately worm their way into t...

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    AS THE BURDENS OF THE EARTH GROW HEAVY...

     

    As Existence first seems to sink, then falls back into itself with a spasmodic cocooning, and seems to crack, like vile clockwork springs, the curvatures proclaimed sacred, involuntary convolutions - the evil-unworthy intrigues, the petty little manipulations embedded in the contours of faces disappear.

    The unknown Destiny-Finite, of which man is always a part as a tiny speck of dust, also traces an inextricable disposition, from which it is increasingly difficult to unwind the assured evasion, the descending destruction of the tragedies of fate of everyday life. As one should see the Reality through the true pearl of almost inconceivable tears, and weed out the sins behind the helping intention, before insidiousness and false credulity rub against each other; one can seldom powder the stigma-scars engraved in the soul!

    As the hand of protection, offering protection, reaching out to you through a curved mirror, perhaps a cousin of Death, it would...

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    SUBTLE DIGGING

     

    Diving out of the total stomach-churning, pre- and post-testing hell-bent on vomiting, when you think you've got it all under control, but the good stuff is yet to come. No one suspected, knew details, just Vates-secrets from the insecure Sors, the human tide of wretched evil: we tried to somehow scrape the infected thorns, the stigma-wounds from each other's shipwrecked souls, which we had endured for more than four years in the dying half.

    It never occurred to us that we might be right! Anything but the degraded slavery of the oppressed, humiliated slaves at the bottom of the pyramid! Let not those who despised the enduring power of literature, poetry, and the fidelity of words, come through us. - We lived thus locked in the sumo-whale body of a sunken world, to a beat, and often shivered as if we were shut up in the neighbourhood of the North Pole.

    There was no question of a delicate balance, of a teacher-student relationship based on ...

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    WHO CAN WANT GOOD?!

    Why are you still hoping?! Do you think that someone who can easily see that you have collapsed, like a house of cards collapsing quickly and easily, will find out something important about you? That you're in big trouble because the doctor said it's okay to live for another fifty-nine years?! Did he want to know anything with the intention of helping you in a sincere, unselfish way, or was it just to please him, that he could play cheap, murderous games?

    Or is it just the indirect feeling of "well, it's you again" and "what if" that flashes through your mind, like the brainwashed consciousness of a burnt-out neon sign, as it deliberately bites and kicks you, when you yourself are already writhing in a fetal position in the muddy ground. In retrospect, you scrutinize your mirror in the curved mirror, which you can feel and know - for people - tells the truth, and whether you can be sure that you have always been yourself, or are just a pale ...

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    THE CALVARY OF MODERN WOMEN IN THE 21ST CENTURY

    My sincere congratulations to the ultra-modern, ultra-hot, squeaky-voiced, brain-botoxed Diva ladies of today! The modern age of the modern woman is no longer about the enhancement of her mature knowledge - it's more about the instant and total depletion of her nice gold coins and pretty little bank accounts. The irises of their sneaky, digging eyes are made up, painted, even though the haunting midnight paints the more sinister night in simpler colours.

    They smear their collagenized lips with poisonous red lipstick, like those vengeful petty little harpies, or dangerous famme fatale, in whose souls alone human frailty shines. Why not look instead at the softer make-up and simpler but more elegant dress? Your peacock-necks are all glitter, with forty-eight-carat diamond necklaces; and you don't want to know it, but they are all fake trinkets, petty jewels. The true, eternal One-treasure would dwell in your hearts, in your human gestures, if you would go to a crying...

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    WITH ARROWS OF EMOTIONS

     

    Like a hunted, miserable animal lost in the great round forest, And can hardly find its way home, The sacred web of my memories and the finding of the One-False drives me on, Wild thorns tear my old-man's face, But the nymph-daughter of the seas I shall know sooner or later. We stand facing each other, face to sea, like two human star-tits, and she will be the one to place her swan-hand in my hand, and as I hold her white lily-fingers in my iron fur-palms, an electric, tingling magnetic current will pass through the secret All-connection of our immortal souls...

    We walk together, like the redeemed, to the little village, while the spirit of the great mountain slumbers like a volcanic cone silently behind us; only our hands are intertwined, like the amber of a wandering amber, ever closer. In the irises of her two superstitious eyes The wavering bliss and harmony melt Into a mischievous smile, and I see in her face That without words her golden heart of...

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    PULPING STONE

     

    Today I no longer write about myself as I once did as a grasshopper, when I was trying to take the faintest hesitant steps on the ladder of Life. I am well past thirty now. Often I am still seized with the childish, honeyed desire that I should take refuge in the corner of my former nursery from what really hurt me, hiding and playing the games from which Life deliberately kicked me away; for I had to become a civil servant and could not bear the company of liars. I was soon fired!

    I often envy the friendly child who simply hands over the matchbox car or the LEGO set of hundreds of thousands to the other child, because he knows that what counts in the game is to be equals, not opponents. The city's heavy fog would be nice to replace with sunshine yet - as a grumpy, nagging bachelor, I'm turning inwards in autumn. The neon lights of the tomb-crypt blot out even the shreds of Reality, until at last it's hard to tell the difference. From dawn till...

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    STONE-BOARD

     

    The hours have long since run out... so greedily, and perhaps viscerally never before, he gobbled up the victims and prisoners of Time with a brutally cruel grin, as if he could already know when, where, what was coming. We no longer dare to look each other in the honest eyes for fear of the even more absolute, predictable consequences of absolute Truth.

    Perhaps I have never felt so much that I could lose anyone around me at any time. I could say: I'm already totally tired, melancholy and fed up with everything in a short journey, - but now heavy plans are strangling my heart, because survival of the day is now the pathetically insidious game of cat and mouse. I know well: it would be easier to liquidate or sell everything, and to lie down in the calm of the shore like peaceful fishermen in andalusian silence; but he who is always struggling with the nasty pain of his restlessness, his not-quite-contracting, never finds it easy to give up.

    Ma...

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    THE CURRENT OUTSIDER IN BUDAPEST

    This city is a stranger to me! And I was born here once! During the day, my sore throat is stung by the exhaust fumes and the obscene, obscene human speech, while at night, my eyes are ruined by the twisted, pale light. A faltering soul, confined within the walls of a murderous labyrinth, watches over me, and sometimes whispers its answer: "Take care, for no one else will."

    Daily I am forced to throw over my shoulders the gaudy purse of this wicked city of Nineveh, while my slithering, stumbling, miserable Sisyphusian feet are constantly bumping into obstacles. I have great wanderings to resolve, but there is always something missing from the whole: adequate wages, financial resources, or human, derailed relationships - at the foot of echoing, echoing crags, perhaps I'd better hesitate-perhaps I'd rather stop and go backwards myself.

    I am greeted by a crowded serpentine of caravans on a pot-faced highway: suddenly almost everything in the world ...

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    BETWEEN TORN MUSINGS

     

    How are storm-torn Golgotha Wounds renewed? The handholds of Being no longer forget While rays' diagonals cross! Through the gaps of torn heart-beats the redeeming hope pierces: it shines through, hesitant as a wounded memory! We should cling to a handful of wills, it will not be too late! Among our dripping-water fears, it would be good to cling to protective handholds! The career-breaking wretches trample each other like a herd, and the naked truth of their skin-tight nakedness can never be proved by childish helplessness!

    On the wandering and wandering soul the silence falls! Unnoticed it steals through the catacombs of the inner self; The romantic moments left on the pillow leave a mark on our wrinkled faces! The witnessing watcher waits for awakening in a common, ostracized solitude! - From islands of instinct-depths the Universe roars while for the umpteenth time patience shames itself, why it could not be more persistent and more resilient! We a...

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    NO WAY OUT

    Here, my dear, there is hardly any way out left, October is bewitching the trees into red oranges, until they become skeletons with rattling bones, we are one with ourselves on a road consecrated by the vibrating scales of foliage... We have known for a long time! We have been lost, and in this great and complex ancient labyrinth of ancient Babel, in the confusion of a horde of people, there is no way out.

    Now we are still waiting hesitantly, standing in the metamorphosis of the 21st century, wondering when, where and how self-help can come. A million cosmic silver stars accompany our hopeless walk. Here, the brainwashed have long been deliberately confused by a merry congregation of vacuous, self-aggrandising propaganda, fake preaching, and big-breasted, jiggering celeb-monkeys. And the apostate, totally disillusioned little man is going through his life like a Stanovist animal forced to wear a prisoner's pelt, working more and more, always with no prospects, because ...

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    EVERYDAY STATIONS

    Like a mute, alien star among Men, like a fired, outcast, pitiful little minute-man among the rest; a frateless, and companionless prodigal Aggastyan - I must walk alone, forced to walk the pathlessness of the crooked roads of intent: my shell-maiden, though she protects and even shelters me, I have long felt that nothing in this World can be quite right!

    Those who once proclaimed themselves my friends, now stare at me like a broken mirror, with poisonous thorns flashing in their eyes. Is it all in vain? I see it's still the same old idiotic song: they don't want to understand! They stagger along the donkey-ladder of Life and careers never had, and like oxen and brainwashed steers they even sell each other out with a calm heart. Some would decorate the contours of my chubby face with a broken beer bottle.

    The Director, the lawyer with whom I once kneaded mud in the sandpit to build a fancy sandcastle palace, drives around in his shiny luxury car and sees ...

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    ORDINARY RUIN-PICTURE

     

    Through the decrees of cruel indifference Like a deaf and dumb shadow The wounded Man stumbles like a deaf and dumb shadow: the detail of passing It would be well to forget, deciphered! Existence: a forced waiting at the gate of another unknown dimension! Appearance-lessness for pop-culture Celebrity-Fiasco self-serving self-indulgence! Man-hunting, gullible girls flailing around like precious commodities, disposable trophies!

      On the diva-make-up of faces may soon damp crevices stretch, Which the cosmetics of gold-phonals can seldom conceal! The awakening of progress is still but groping and squinting! Shadows are nesting on the conscience of the seers, that they may learn cautious fears!

    The years become in us wilted rose-petals - and had we been better to be breakers, and caracane wanderers: world-destroying transience may take hold for the umpteenth time! Obscene provocative obscenities are now laughed at by all, when their humanity owe...

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    WORDS OF ACCOUNTABILITY

     

    I don't know if it's a crime or just a hoax, but here I am in a hidden corner of the world where I've been watching a million and one years of a gutting, bustling, populous, strange herd of people. Alas, it is not what it once was: when the writer was the poet's orator against Fate and Destiny. Now each one bends and bends this way and that according to his fancy. Men's mean and dark souls are a bloody, pitch-black velvet, like the shroud of death, and would not help the fallen or the crippled once!

    I do not know whether it was a sin, or merely a coward's fear of faith, when in my naive blindness I would have loved in and around myself a Separate Peace, harmony, found Happiness, and in my haste I would not have been alarmed by the horns of cars, the cursing, vomit-sitting speech of motorists. The frost is slowly falling on my grey, dove-grey head As I approach forty, and it would be good if sanity and the grimace of reason-born admo...

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    ENOUGH OF TOMORROW

     

    People! You too will see that here there can be nothing left but the captivity of Time and Space! The cry of unworthy millennia, piled one on top of the other, then wasted. And somewhere in a gangrened, Martian Nineveh, in the symbolic no-man's-land, where diving Saturn walks on chained chains of chains of chains of chains of chains, on white bones, the avenging power of Destiny finds us and with a compassionate old man's face says to us: "Nothing has changed in this muddy Earth!"

    Above a once peaceful, playground landscape, skyscrapers made of clouds grow, and the slepp-bands of inaccessible nouveau riche little kings laugh uproariously, arrogantly, at the social pyramid, seeing where He is, while the miserable millions no longer have any cooked food, except for potatoes that are condemned to dryness. Two secret words are needed here: empathy and tolerance!

    How many more centuries, clinging to the spiral of Space and Time, must...

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    UNPEACEFUL

    Yes, I have seen the Son of Man, as the grotesque-grimace of Gorgo's face turned into a grimace, and he grinned a deep, murderous grin, and then snorted like a cheap, petty pig. At first the naive childish soul ached, and then the stigmata of the festering wound, like a stigma, bursting open and sewing, from which a storm of scorching flames raged.

    Humiliating, disappointing was such a deliberate, gallant, despicable public humiliation procedure, as it was from the schools to the so-called comfort camp of the Universities. Vulnerable Man was stunned into himself and then, in cynical, cynical ways, disillusioned first with himself and then with the undeserving World in one fell swoop. The brainwashed, sheepish minute-men engaged in a mad dash, like a ragtag horde of otherworldly horde against each other. No one could ever know whether the glorious scientific professors, associate professors, assistant professors, were each other's complicit allies, or merely the equ...

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    SOUL-BODY INTERACTION


      
    When the secret dialogue of things, feelings, gazes, before the deceivable, foolish eyes, is already unnoticed, the often unpredictable instincts and desires of the decoys and shadows are transformed into petty, false essences. 

    Subject and body become one, and like calculating accomplices silently and silently await the final Nirvana fulfillment. In the calculated, enduring trenches of their ecstasy, if you like, bare bones, wounded teeth and soft, hard tissue are curled against each other. 

    The hidden, superficial truth, like the tenuous, self-serving romance, is becoming increasingly difficult to remedy. A more concentrated focus sharpens the precise contours of eyes, mouths, faces. It is as if one were a marksman, hunting only for an inviting target, and when he sees a tangible prey, he suddenly and unexpectedly strikes. 

    In the mind of the clattering mind, Time is always shattered. Attention sharpens and t...

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    HARNESSED EVENINGS

     

    If the threatening, moonlit evening, like a wild, restless spectre of ghosts, should come upon me with its hyena claws, I shall have dipped my broken, pitiful life in a million times in a pitiful shower of true pearls, in vain; it can be neither more cheerful nor happier. For now I flatten myself against the broken, rocky wall of fever, like a huddled, heartless Silence, how the ordinary man-trying existence of the everyday wears my whole inner presence.

    I have waited in vain for a loving heart to comfort me, for a romantic sunset, for the redeeming, tender caresses of a sympathetic gesture; for softly lulling words of endearment to caress, to beguile, to soothe, to chase the threatening darkness from my head. Cheap tramp-maid has long been the ragged Life, I should watch and beware, ever suspicious.

    If the night should fall upon me like an assassin sneaking through a railway station, or a train's screeching death-scream, I would repay my bro...

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    Exemplary backbone

     

    On the great Cold Mountain, October's Midas, dripped and moulded from wax changed into a golden age, my half-shy and hesitantly aimless soul lingered aimlessly! The mountain-veterans, with their giant ridges, like magnificent triple kings, like servile and witnessing soldiers, knowing and trusting only in royal defiance, stood in Börzsöny the roar of the ancient mother-natural hurricane-horn and horn from the capricious Chserhat!

     And like the iron-willed old man, plowed and hardened in the furrow of Time, with the stubborn stubbornness of the great Cold Mountain, like the donkey once or twice held himself with a strained and straight back, because he believed in his andesite and nickel-veined bones that there would come a time when he would endure and take up the four seasons' storm as a gauntlet! I have tried to draw an example and humanity from you!

     And I have tried to defend my conscience with the same stubborn de...

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    Wish

     

    Don't tell my little girl, "Daddy, I hate you so much!" - Let her be in a rosy-happy mischievous mood all the time. Let her run lovingly to her mother, and with chubby little hands gently tear her a pearl of pearl blossom. She should not be lonely and lonely and lonely when I am gone. Her soul should not remain as turbulent and gloomy as the restless, murmuring sea.

    Cinnamon powdered sugar is fit for a milk-egg, for her cherubic deceitfulness demands it. It would be nice to be a child with a clownish, merry mood, and play and play and play. For the absolute adult is often rather an evil giant, who shames, frightens and is not trusted.

    The life of the new, strong-willed princess is as balanced and self-indulgent as ever: what is it like to be a rebellious, contrary adolescent? Will she often defy her parents' wise and foresighted admonitions, or will she just go her own way, like her father?!

    I would say after her, I ne...

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    WANDERING THE CROOKED ROADS

     

    My colombus-egg teenage dreams were shattered again and again. In the depths of my darkened repository-room, im looking apart, my relationships - if any - have become as light, as smooth as bad, abscessed teeth loosened, ruined. For with struggling, enduring loyalty I have left with Carthusian-nemian intent those who have deceived, betrayed, or just trampled me in the mud at their pleasure.

    From the fierce, gyehenna-crossings of roads, as from those hellish Daredevil pucerai, I have deliberately turned aside and rather withdrawn. Now I feel only that I have given up so much in so many useless, useless decades, because I should have lived somehow. And since then I have been treading on ever-sinking, shipwrecked tomorrows, and as everywhere pits, dams and obstacles, where hyenas and wolves have torn the childish Ego. I feel my life hanging like a hangman's noose on my neck like a scabby necklace.

    The bastion of my seven-locked existence, like B...

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    THE JAWS OF WEAKNESS

     

    Tolerating with half-hearted humility - I've long since discovered and accepted - I must go on! - I cannot lay my cross-questions and cross-questions, as one who, a far traveller, hopes for guidance, To a crowd of men called Men! The system-contexts of the world have been lost for twenty years or so, then the tight yoke of yoke has strangled, and drawn and squeezed with determined and purposeful will, the ordered daily life of our lives, nowadays the exaggerated and cheap freedom seems to forget the moral spirit of order and the fact that independent thought can still be a breeder of fertile ideas, and to trample in the mud, without regard for humanity, the half-witted characters who wish to create and bear witness to humanity!

    Let us all look into the intellectual mysteries of ourselves, and with a gentle and accepting word confess: an honest conscience, perhaps we shall have the backbone of will to put together the whole theory of the unbreakable tru...

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    A WARNING TO THE MAN

    My friend! Listen now to every word, deed and action spoken, for we walk among traitors and traitors, forced to walk, and what you must refuse tomorrow - perhaps - will be your shame on the gallows. You will stand mocked, defeated, ashamed, before your former Bosses, your powerful, slavish Directors, like scapegoats or scoundrels.

    If you do not have to, you must not, like a superfluous colonel, curve your own roadblock in the way of your own Fate and your own path; let everything go its own way, let all the cogs turn! For once you show your other mask-face to the already hypocritical-false World - be careful - you may be humiliated, mocked, just as you were in your toddling pumpkin-head days again. Thy life is threatened by the threatening, fake word, now as meaningless as honour, or a handshake given only once, as a prelude to unconditional trust.

    It is no longer possible that till the last minutes the biting, sobbing choke should not be confessed at least to th...

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    PREFACE POSTPONED

     

    Perhaps the poet was always new. He only began where the unruly, despicable Executioner's Time had already encroached, and ended where the blindfold was closed over his head. His hand was constantly restrained. First the rough, restless years, then the scheming, false pushers, the vile little cheap Johns, the ever-more populous congregation of the Rise of Janchik. And while the elaborate, cultivated dance was going on, where they were celebrating the colour and flower of contemporary, modern literature among themselves, as if they had now deliberately forgotten the hidden or merely unknown Anonymus, who perhaps deserved the same justly baptised praise!

    A crowd gathered in the former coffee-house. And while mainly poems and small prose passages were spoken in slightly whining, distorted microphone voices, some talented actresses seemed to have forgotten not only the manner of the accents, but also the emotional tones of the poems; how and how to say the...

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    LETTER TO MR. B.B.

     

    My friend, tell me the cool One-Truth! To whom, and when, will you give an account of yourself on an idle afternoon, when you are a castaway, when you are only covering yourself with barren silence and making up new excuses for your alibi, what have you been doing for thirty-nine years?!

    Here and there in your humble, petty little life have come and gone troubles and troubles, enemies and friends. You must have known that you were lying to yourself, for you deliberately deceived your naive childish soul, only by thinking that if you wished, the world and its tangled, confused things would change!

    And here you stand, totally bereft, numb... Like a big pile of cow-dung, it's a shame how you'd open your two hairy Enkidu hands, still encouraging, asking for help, to those who never wanted to know you truly, fully, and wondering about the great Nirvana-Semen, when the frivolous accusation swarms upon thee-but how often hast thou deliberately f...

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    SOCIAL DEPTHS

    A vivacious, insidious copper-cedar Kor cannot deceive me. Behind the vain guise of sincerity, sweet-tempered, frothy-mouthed Janus and their botox goddesses would dictate the trendy baton, but why, when the great lowered average beggar-poor-poor?!

    Action, action, the human word, has become a thing to be cast aside or even forgotten. Nowadays, everyone is a selfish, tame vegetarian. On the surface, there is an aching, stagnant, dull confusion.

    Dirt and rubbish with the same highbrow label. Layers of junk. And if some could still boldly proclaim, there can no longer be the deepest compliments, romance, polite speech instead of bunions and burping chanting orgy of chanting, they do each other the nicest.

    It is as if in a sea of oily, lime-licked sea, once familiar faces were to be rediscovered, once alive, once again. The easy-come, easy-goose-egg careers of presenters and yarrow-flowers are all in vain on the channels of fake, fake tabloid media. The age...

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    REVISED PURPOSES

    As the leaves drift into themselves in the deserted forest, instead of the eternal, light, wind-driven festive dance of waves, they roll echoing noises collected in ourselves. They've been suffocating themselves with exhaust fumes, teenage thurkas, obscene grotesque obscenities. 

    Broken careers, pipe dreams after heavy millions, sob to the beat of a missing death. And whoever now seeks to prosper by any means will be a tyrant of one mind, like the horde of accomplices in the traitors' dens. 

    Death and passing, moreover, always impeccably clothe their mortals in old age - And while some may or may not see the transition between part and whole in tiny cogs, they drift till they can hold their own, the Adys leaves. 

    Among the swaying branches of the twisted, honey-coloured lights, a single old-age stain of our rattling, shipwrecked life bends like a hesitant shadow, folds itself. Through the velvet of your heart your last moments hav...

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    HALFWAY THROUGH THE COUNTDOWN

    In his heart beats a mustache, gnawing the boundless helplessness. He who is left alone for ever can have no time and no one. In the stripping of the seasons The twilight dips its rich golden feathers When autumn comes again. He who is left alone can no longer be comforted by the living or the dead. Unread Apocryphal motions hang on the walls of Time; our moments of memory gradually thicken: the bleeding, leaking wounds of cells are bound up, voluntarily or out of pity! 

    Those who are left alone ponder a melancholy admission: perhaps they have always stood alone against the threatening World. The Indian winds of time are but fragments of his memory. Nor can a defenseless alliance of defiance provide the impartiality needed to forge new relationships. 

    To create a sacred protective system out of friendships is almost totally impossible. He that is left alone, let his word be a tame knock, his look a hard glare. It can do no more! He should gather the mea...

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    AUTUMN-POEM


    You understand Autumn. You cannot deny it. The tamed twilight rays of the shortened, languid days, with their melancholy moods, glimmer in your soul and do not let you go. Thou understand'st: like the tormenting shroud-maid, it falls upon thee and encircles thee. The smiling almagerezks once charmed Thy sweetheart's tender finger-tips, While the tinkling peach jam boiled and rotted in the rump of the pot. Yet, if all is well outside, why are you cold and shivering with nightmares, with the darkness that clings to you?!

    Thy reasonable self-confidence and thy path can be built in redeeming light alone. Sees its fate the restless Soul, that longs for continual rebellion, for chain-shattering... And while the night then with the heavy wings of dawn Shrouds me, so good would it be to feel the faithfulness of Trust, which may never fade, Forbidden by every law of man. Thou art now thirty-nine years old... canst thou yet be sixty-two? And will there then be a Man ...

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    AS A CLUTCHING STRANGER

    How can you remain spotless here, when your soul is already merged in the darkness of the core, and never asks how or how you could have escaped the gallows of your person, the smaller and bigger attacks of your Jelened?! For friends and acquaintances have all left you...The clattering rails that sound near the railway station echo through the coils of your brain; in the clouded darkness you pull your blankets well over your head, for the dawns of the present dawn have become chilly and shivering!

    Thou thyself hast known long since that thou canst not escape, Hiding in the filthy, milky Nineveh-mist of blameless Pest, a late friend - if he has but little time - may yet lead thee firmly and stubbornly by the hand in the dismembered, but unsectioned night. Your spiritual energies are slowly exhausted, for you know not in whom, when, and how to trust! You can't hold out that long anyway: half unconscious, half in a waking coma! What vile nonsense it seems: "Get yours...

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    LIKE SOMEONE CAUGHT IN THE RED


      
    He consciously ripens within himself, like a negro seed Between Life and Death, the survival of everyday life. Those constantly preparing for a long journey should not yet be dragging on the already precious Time.

    From wall to wall you can hear the sickly, Sehonnai calvary of the heart turning in on itself. I listen soundlessly to the silence inside, while my face is stained red with the grim shame that so many have promised and vowed, but only a few have kept their word, even one! 

    I should learn again to believe in hypocritical miracles. It seemed to lie trembling through my tears: the alchemy of my prodigal memories. 

    I'll fall, I feel, and then fall again, like the aging, old, doddering Sisyphus. On drums of silk they would be beating in my ears, if I let them, by teasing fox-demons. My dreams are always taking me to depths unruly, for they have never been able to rise above the captivity of my unworthy, pit...

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    IN A MUSIC STORE

    Let's take the '68 Gibson electric guitar, or Les Paul: labelled U.S.A., it has a wildly full sound, and when the crystal-clear dust settles on its steel strings, it sounds steely and gritty. A guy with a dreadlocked haircut comes up to me and immediately snaps, "Hey buddy! Put the instrument back in its place! You don't have any money, so what are you playing for!" - I am even a little amused, through tears, by the rise and fall of the latest jerk-pancake manners.

    I haven't had my human tongue spoken to me for a long time, but this time I must confess to being modestly surprised. "Excuse me, my dear sir, but you can hardly lure customers into your shop with that mentality," I humbly put in quietly, for even the moderately pronounced presence was being eroded by the neo-culture of 21st century tawdryness. Barely eight minutes later, a guy in a big vest and a proudly-necked leather jacket enters, a sort of Jim Morrison offspring, perhaps ...

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    ATTIC REFLECTION

     

    I went up to the attic, no longer a pumpkin-headed brat, but a dreamy old man in his thirties. The diagonally sloping wooden staircase really shook me. A dank, deathly smell hit my olfactory senses. As if darkness were a silent enemy rather than a comforting friend. I piled my old literary volumes, albeit not in alphabetical order, next to the draughty, solid brick walls, where a large reaper spider was dreamily weaving a web to reawaken my fears.

    Increasingly, I trust the everyday, well-worn routines more than anything else, I can feel them: they will not lead me astray, and perhaps they never will! As if we need each other. For me, to be able to reflect with common sense, for them, to get rid of centuries of dust.

    To look so godlike beneath the concrete, bricks, and structure of the roof. As if I were in the spiny belly of a whale, from which the only sure way out is down. I shouldn't stumble on the cursed, much-lost memories of my childhoo...

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    ON UNKNOWN ROADS

    When we were born, the soul-body boundaries were still open, only later to branch out. Our childhood passed beneath the open bura of wire incubators. We clung to our favourite storybooks at night, when our parents had long since slept the sweet dreams of the righteous, and had forgotten the comforting, encouraging bedtime story. We had learned long ago that there will always be Witches, Dragons and Evil Men, because it is hard to forget something once and for all, and that the moment of redemption is often delayed.

    When a tiny, egg-shell future was still dangling on our dwarf shoulders, when a tiny little girl stretched out her needle-sharp tongue towards us, and did not hold our chubby hands, because the poor little boy always wet himself and had to be changed. For lack of visibility, we became more and more transparent. Perhaps we ourselves can no longer understand how and how?! It is as if we are now everywhere chasing after the semblance of petty compromises, chasing o...

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    LIFE-CRUMBS

    My friend, he who does not cheat, steal, lie, shall fall to the ground in short, and worms shall devour his flesh and bones. He's in the shadows, and waits for years, days, months, for a benefit, a raise, a pension correction. And yet he lives a piece of his life paralysed, with a walking stick and sick, forced to hope.

    Like a rope-dancer on a drying-rope, the minimum of existence, pushed into uncertainty, swings on a drying-rope; Time and memory spin dried potatoes and pale, vestigial onion-skins. The latest five-year draft! Life is now a superficial pretence-game, a sparring cat-and-mouse struggle, like the round-faced moonbeam in its twisted muck. All is but coming and going and soon departing, like girlfriends, wives, sweethearts.

    One was taken to hospital with a bleeding ulcer, another with cirrhosis of the liver, a third has his brain incessantly gnawed by a tiny tumour-worm underneath, and when he is put into the MRI machine, the secret Morse signal of...

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    IN THE JUNGLES OF EVERYDAY LIFE

     

     If existence had taught me to avoid its merciless and often unjust judgments, I should certainly not have been a chattering, stumbling, half-wit boy, but rather a tough man of steel, blessed with characanism, who meets the world's oppressive challenges with a sure, sure, mature bell-ringing! If I had known that ancient, one true prayer, that when I am pressed by inevitable need-perhaps some one will stand by me, and once to teach me not only to appreciate how hard life has dealt with me,-but to learn by mastery the paternal or jungle-phonies of existence! Every man is taught by himself to go on in toleration on the compass paths of life, - to find out, when the hardest goal is reached, how to make peace and then to accept it in wavering solitude, as if discovering, according to the latest wise counsel, how and in what way to accept the wishes of life?

     Today I see! - All my blessed loved ones have protected me, and guarded me, so that even t...

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    ANNO THE 90S

     

    We can only really understand each other: the old, never-agreeing accomplices, the outcast and the silent friend abandoned at the dawn of childhood. We have but to look at each other with a wink, and our milk teeth, long since fallen out, have shuddered: "How could the calculating, gallant wheel of the world turn so?" we ask, but our question is answered with a shudder.

    We've been each other's accomplices for so long, like married couples or lovers in love: we know about each other's foolishness, even in a state of joy and sorrow: we've picked up rubbish and bags of crisps when we needed to, and while some unfriendly teenage devil stamped his foot on our scrambled-meat sandwiches with a dirty, stubby foot: "Now! You good birds! Eat off the floor if you don't want to starve to death!" they ordered us. And there were times when we ate the scattered tithes in our tearful, cowardly shame, so that we would have enough for...

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    FAREWELL TO HARLEQUIN

     


    Slowly, my memories of peace and tranquillity, which I once clung to with violence and convulsion, are leaving me, slowly, black birds with the smell of executioners are cawing ominously and cynically above me. Slowly, a deep vibrating cello sonata sound, or Jericho trombone, fades away within me.

    Gradually, a host of daily, Sisyphean troubles, petty-piteous little trials of Life's capital letter, Surround me, storms of yell-power Come on my head again; perhaps I can scarce find Calming, will-power, desire to do On the One-Cat's side, who helps me to bear, endure. Soon the optician will put a Dosahedron on my head for my new dioptric glasses.

    The love of All-ness, which once was so good to feel, like the nectar-meat of juicy, tender fruits, The power of Existence-enhancing metabolisms, slowly slowly fades away in me. The honey-collecting bee was the romance and desire that once filled me. The crystal clear memory lives in me, misc...

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    MEMORY-GUIDES

     

    How your children have grown! They are already people of another more digital, Ciber-age: they store their past memories, their lived lifetimes, only in digital formats, as if deliberately keeping themselves away from the stains of shame and other contaminants on their vulnerable souls.

    Like a stolen precious photograph - the inner seeing-eye would travel the secret Apokfif-contexts of things and emotions as long as possible. It is possible that those are more self-confident, more fulfilled, and more prosperous, who recognize the given situation and can adapt to it, of course without their all-knowing holy Ego being at all damaged.

    In the inner, bark, chitin-armour-grown self, suspicion and distrust now accumulate untamed: Could he trust in friends and acquaintances?! Would they not betray or shame their personal rights, as the mother-sad, overbearing, overbearing minutemen once did to us?! It is as if their lives were already being lived deliber...

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    FELLING-VERSE

    To paint a generous coordinate system of feelings secretly playing hide-and-seek in the engravings of familiar faces. For in the excessively superficial world outside, honesty as the only viable option has long since disappeared.

    Insidious formalities can stay with them, like unremovable make-up. Diagonal gleams in a pool of greedy, longing eyes. Who knows who she's thinking of?

    The contours of rainbow shapes caressing in light splashing bays. At once they divide and still call. They seem to expand in the equilibrium of instincts. - The unbridled Present is becoming blurred with the desires of lived memories.

    The depths of the soul are incessantly stirred by a single panting sigh, behind the rib-cage of the chest. True murderous confidence is the crocodile's cry, if its pearl be more real than visceral pain. Romance, like planet-born light, can only be born when it does not tumble in unknown confusion - but rests securely in the depths of hearts...

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    FATE-NEED


      
    The man who, unexpectedly and suddenly, is left to himself - though he is shaken, shuddered - but still he goes to meet the hangman's, bitter-smelling Fate. No friends, no eternal immortal loves, No mischievous, childish rainbow clinging To the bare, bald, worn, cold marble old man's face of existence. 

    He who is left alone at last, like a diligent and industrious herald to a homeless past, may stare halfway into his memories, as if the is and the could not be were not possible, but were reality, and would not take his voluntary exile from day to day so deathly.
    The man, though from his life, Intentionally left out of happiness, The found Dear still defiantly faces fate. For Time gnaws away his inward organs, and curses his perhaps never-seen career. 

    He thinks of eternal loneliness, and from his dreary days He gathers vanity to hope stubbornly-even to hope on. Thus in the hell-hiding, empty winter his impossib...

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    IN OUR TIME

    IN OUR TIME, where chess games are played with atomic bombs by soft dictators, while the people are either brainwashed, laughing or miserable, and where even in childhood the very young child is taught: "My dear son! What can the silent, mute poet say? What extraordinary things could he write down on a torn out notebook or a piece of paper that would faithfully reflect the decade in which he was forced to live and endure?

    In an age when NASA is sending new suitcases into space to colonise the latest satellites, and some arrogant, multi-billionaire blokes have already bought at least two unknown planetary contingents near Jupiter or Mars, and because new luxury resorts are to be built on lunar craters in the hope of greater profits, the astronaut, while eating chocolate biscuits, is probably thinking of his sweetheart, who is cheating on him again on Earth, or of his family, whom he has not seen for the last time for ten thousand light years.

    In the Age, wher...

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    IN-SIGHT

     


    Torn rainbows, detrimental, detached remnants, cast shadows drift down alleyways in deserted yards. Reiloom bean, or even worn-out clothespins, the whore's soul, teaching us to endure and survive at all costs. It bumps here and there on its pitiful fibre of life, and like a dying, alamusian comet, it buttons itself up to the chin in nakedness, and then takes off and puts on as it pleases. 
    His life is a desert swamp, steaming. His scars, torn to the bone, are almost always preserved with interest by the aging Time. A lonely, barren lunar landscape becomes the sneaking, crypt-perfect, approaching; it strips itself bare, humiliates itself in a thousand forms. 
    Schizophrenic mirrors stand tottering in the throne-room of his dreams, while lost souls yawn among themselves. The haunted midnight eyes the secret revelation with more and more scowl, but it can be known the Nothing's groove-face scratch-masked. - If the illusive creatur...

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    DAWN PONDERING

     

    I would tell you, Dearest, if I were not surrounded for seconds by a volcanic nervous disturbance, and perhaps my restless child-self would be a little calmer. At three in the morning the clattering of a freight train woke me, like a lonely shelter for suicides, and sleep was deliberately avoided. I tossed and turned on my towel, sweating and panting with beads with buckles, and never went back to sleep.

    Wait! Don't get angry yet! How shall I begin, lest thou be offended again, and the Cleopatra charms of thy superstitious womanhood? I thought you must know me very well, and you remember how empty the contours of objects are without you, and how narrow the little street is, where the traffic rushes through at a mad pace. Your body, like a secret map, is still familiar.

    A few drunken hooligan hooligans are puking and the greenish-yellowish bile of burnt spirits is gathering in a radiant puddle at their feet. They blaspheme themselves and the a...

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    SORTS

     

    To think that I might have been born a seer, I should not now have to look with suspicion and suspicion on the Galad-Gaul World and the increasingly easily bribed man in it. If I should meet a child-souled adult, I would curiously befriend him rather than tolerate being insidiously and insidiously exploited.

    We must live in an age farther and farther away. Distant harmonies can only hold us together in the borderland of Beginning and End. As mortal dust-eyes of the great Whole, we lie at the mercy of howling Executioner-Deities... I wish the One-Bearer with all his golden heart would find me, and guide me through my remaining twenty-one years. - A long-arched crumbling bridge stretches to me from my wounded past, through which will toils and staggers as well as determined action.

    A hazy ball of mist covers the still undiscovered, unknown shores, and deep inside I still feel that from here, where I now stand, I hardly have a second chance left to ...

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    FACING THE FOURTH X.

     

    Towards forty, man thus slowly takes stock of his own selfish things; he may have no virtue, only his faults and faults to read on his head. He may know very well that he is alone, like his little finger, or an aged father. Perhaps he could scarcely perceive that his dear life of One is gone, and can have no continuance. With a walking stick he knocks out his decades.

    There's no telling what more they'll demand of her: her preserved memories, her wounded past, her uncertain future, the tawdry loves of romances that have seen better days. He wonders more and more often, and even now the big, selfish child he was cannot touch him, still dwells in a little corner of his soul, pushing away those he does not trust. His childhood haunts him continually, whether he needs it or not.

    He searches his own wrinkled, furrowed face, his dove's wax curls in his distorted, grotesque mirror image, or in the faces of his children, and cannot understand...

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    SIMPLE S LABILIS

     

    Tree trembles in the wind. Autumn carries its golden chains as leaf scales: Who else knows how long? hawthorns also tremble in the evergreen shelters of mosses. Even the round cheese continent is cold in the sky. Dogs are courting, angry – the summer glow is gone suddenly! The nose, like a purple cold-throwing chimney, is swollen and is still dripping its unpleasant, murderous juices!

     A whole week of bed gymnastics was lost if the smelter of immunity had already weakened. With a rebellious whiplash, the unbridled wind brings its October scars, and in a thickening, milky-white mist, unknown faces are in a big arc and despair is solid! – A horse chestnut is alone in the craters of forgotten puddles!

     I cherished tears and spike pains in my heart while others betrayed me! And like some secretly raging Goliath who didn’t digest it once to be defeated, he demands with impatient revenge and shakes the falling skirts of the ...

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    VERTICAL-WORLD

    Now there is still a lying, calculating interest, just like a promise, a word of honor; the whispering blessing of Autumn is nicknamed by my blind, squinting eyes. It can be half past four in the morning, and in the crouching wind-dark, my restless soul is only responsible for the clicking noise of freight trains: Do you hear? You are a prisoner! That's what it clicks! "- Now the beauty is falling on each other, and jerk, no-nonsense, stuttering dirt. My quiet pleasures, if they were, did not open the seven-seal padlock in the narrowing sky of my uncertain future.

    The self-reliant, squinting soul, though it feels its selfish loss, tolerates it more and more, steps, searches blindly: Can cultured communication be fading and reassuring with two gorilla bodies, between a hazelnut-brain security guard who is only willing to let certain people into the theater, between the crowded, mass-screaming walls of nightclubs, while deliberately looking down on the simple job pr...

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    QUESTION COMPLIANCE

     

    Listen and watch, the soft, careful twilight falls unnoticed on the scales of falling rozsa-mart leaves. He gently knocks the cotton candy puffs of the rain-stricken skies all the way through. Crows toddler in reddish Avar when the evening comes. Slowly, the yellow-faced moon with jaundice walks sickly.

    Where are you dear friends, who once cried out with beautifully pleasing, pleasing sacred promises for what you believed in loyalty and compassion?! Where did the thrills of annual face-to-face encounters go when we all who considered how, when did it change so physically?

    How the real, crystal-clear loves, the confessions woven from the true pearl, the girl's requests, were left behind, when the lurking little wedding ring already suggested more than the foolish, love word: "How much I LOVE you!" "When could we really be ourselves? When did we have to listen unnecessarily to the more pathetic sermons of our slave hairdresser bo...

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    STARTING FROM MYSELF

     

    I'm not looking everywhere now. - Muff is bad because it can't do anything else, and little kings drive around in Ferraris V.I.P. party queens. Teenage girls give birth to premature babies who are left in incubator cages on purpose, because they themselves are egg-bottomed children!

    Now I would like to send a message to those who are still listening and who have declared themselves to be my eternal Friends: Do something Noble, Good in this tumultuous, liar-two-faced World, where the stronger would still trample the ant-pearl. And no one asks the hermits who raised the shell-solitude anymore: "Old father! Do you need anything?!

    It's no use looking everywhere now, because the manipulative propaganda play continues outside, and drunken, party-hooligan barons make fun of the night, when the simple, hard-working worker has long since retired, because the sober robot would call again the next day. Drunk little fish unfold new fins...

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    HOOK BILLING AND COOING


      
      

    The cumbersome chips of the pastures press on my chest. Maybe only they can know the Truth. I would draw my face to the former, because Vanhoz – is afraid - I can hardly have anything to do with it. Who can live in my prolific, tachycardia heart, which has already carried so many false diseases and ominous heart attacks?! 

    The Invisible One wonders when he takes the gracious fatigue not only to wave through my life, but to send as a truthful testimony Someone who deserves to protect, comfort, lift.

    Outside, one can always know that the unworthy Present is rolling over his head. Relentless gambling, media with false promises, and a community space full. No wonder most have long since become brainwashed. Man and history have rarely learned from the darid of losers so far! 

    Crypt faces show an unquestionable, grooved feature of magpies. Shameless unfoldings are held by hiding, flirting gaze...

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    AUTUMN ILLUMINATION

    How long ago I was nursed as an orphan child by the Summer Firestorm! Now heavy, heavy, leaden Autumn haunts me. The season now gives its juicy, succulent fruits to Nature, but who knows? It may be as it should be. Between two points even now my shipwrecked life stretches like a bow. I can hardly find peace or repose in the playful, frivolous drift of moments.

    Towards the future, it is true, I would still be dragged along by tamed roots of hairs longing for fulfilment, but the ominous smell of everyday life makes my nose sniff: "Beware, for they will pull the melodious honeyed smell away from you! In the forest of Mátraszentimre, where the deer are crying, is the little acorn tree we planted together still there? Perhaps the forester cut it down long ago, some forest animal cut off its branches.

    It would often be better to be free for good from the wombs of the Executioner-gods that hold us captive, that hinder us. I cannot leave my comfort zone - in ...

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    IMMUNITY PRIVATE SPEECH


      
      

    Like a snail shell, I waited motionless for years ... I would have waited for some celestial signal, a cacifant message, a spirit-intelligible dance of melodies, a call from the Dear when he confessed: maybe he still loves me golden, his precious heart, but he does not dare to get out of a relationship doomed to loss. The cheese-colored arches of the chalk-legged moon paint amber lights on the wall of the room stuck in the evening. 

    Memories to tumble their instincts and failures into the latent, restless obscurity. I wanted to hear about it, no matter how familiar Life develops, harmonious happiness might even find me here. 

    Attention to the traces of my vigilant, destroyed years, how the aspirations and living factors influencing existence in the way of polite, passing guests fade away and fade away from me. The blessing of Blinded Time – now applies only to some privileged. 

    The ...

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    LONGING

     

    Without exception, we cheered together, in chorus: “We finally graduated! There is no more who can torment us! After open humiliations, our favorite teachers could hardly have found a target "- As our festive colored balloons flew, our restless hearts with homesickness would have drawn abroad in the commissive voice of longing.

    ,,Buddy! Come with us to England, or wherever you want! ”They called with encouragement, promising that it would still be much better outside than locked in an uncertain, unknown vision inside. My unstoppable soul would have preferred to soar with them, but my sober food suggested something else: "You have a different task!" And although Ferihegy was close by, a winged machine monster took me away from all my purposeful, planned dreams. How simple everything seemed then!

    ,,My sweet boy! You get a low-cost ticket from me and then God from me to you! ”Said my good father as he was more terrif...

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    FOR MY MOM

     

     As soon as I grasped the only faithful fruit of your love, and as a small drop, I became an enthusiastic angel longing for consciousness and curiosity, a biological existence, a faithful and anxious flow, your priceless treasure rocking lap is like a double-pole and iron solid magnet attracted you like an unbreakable heart cord, my dear single, and sometimes fragile mother with lion faith, as a breast milk elixir that also serves to fertilize the development of a child!

     On your determined and purposeful frugal face, the beautified memories of the years and my past are preserved by the eyeballs of an ocean-blue sky, and I search and curiously try to figure out what they could have written with a will of soul, in your existence have the testimonies of the crushing of silver threads over your head? And you know how much you mean to me, some heartfelt, priceless mother!

     If, as a blessed-hearted perseverance of your loyalty as a thin...

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    BREATHING WITH HEART

     

    In the yellow room, faded, memory-evoking photographs patiently invite people to remember. The sweet, gentle scent of pink hyacinths caresses the air. Outside, in the garden, the old peach trees have long since shed their sweet, twiggy fruit, and while in the kitchen the jam was simmering, sweet and flowery, everyone was sitting at the table, eager to eat it spread on bread. With your headband, like the daughter of an industrious sultan, you stirred jam, and it was good to watch you balancing the wooden spoon between your tiny but firm fingers.

    Ominous storm-clouds threaten in thundering clouds, While in broad meadow no lightning-struck tree-stump shakes; What Apokfrif message does the troubled deep send to man? The orange sunset was all at once crimson, then purple, And conscious desolation broke upon me again! See, my dear, you have reminded me again! The farther you are from me in body, your golden soul is overflowing, visceral! The prison-guards of my ...

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    THEATHRE-RAPHSODY

     

    You see, my friend, everything is already working against us. Shards of light from a collapsing, spacious sky, like a scalpel or a sharpened knife tip, send us its cumbersome bricklaying every day. We no longer even discuss or investigate who was right: eleven or a few years of friendship can do no harm. It’s a pretty luxury thing these days to have a conscious doubt that one should back down.

    I've heard you curse and squeal heartily, even on the boards of an atomic bomb-inspionage stage, and just behind the scenes. As a poor Otello, your face was plastered by a brownish chocolate mass while your beautiful, chirping Desdemonade swept across the stage like a swan-ballerina subrette. "This ragged life has played well with us!" You sang. I can no longer say what you know you want to hear. We have both been pathetic figures out of Existence and graces! After the stage, you washed your makeup and made it totally inaccessible in your mundanen...

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    PREGNANT SHELTERS

     

    Every road is at the same time a pitiful mouse-path, an internal escape to another, perhaps more unknown, more uncertain shelter... And you can see swarms of rats swarming under the pillars of the Erzsébet Bridge, which have begun to rust. Well, what about you?! Aren't you ashamed of yourselves, usurpers, greedy, for breaking into Life like this?!

    The big yellow cheese-smelling Moon up there was also blinded. You sit up in the cotton candy sky as if you have nothing else to do but deliberately make fun of people who have lied to themselves. Its twisted, flickering light no longer casts tiger-nest shadows on the solitary cells of the rooms. All my friends, with whom I once had a connection, have left and moved abroad.

    And nowadays there are hardly even eight people in whom Loyalty is not dead, eight for whom the good old trust still shines in a handshake and an honest word! After all, the only way to get by here right now is to go hungr...

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    HUMILIATING WHISPER

     


    I've known for a long time, there's no need for nicknames, false promises, or words. I would have to finally set out bravely without even looking back, slamming doors and windows behind me.


    Those who have been honored to meet me so far will stay with me for a while. For a while, I still want to put a flower wreath in the waterfall hair cascade of real lady-angels. I carry with me my memories condemned to neglect at the age of forty, less than three years old.


    My battered, timeless yearning for a more honest, romantic world, which seems increasingly distant, can only be an idyllic fog on the wall of my thinking imagination.


    Yet, like a magnetic force, it pulls you towards you, beckons you to think that it might be possible to get by here in a different way. My longing hope often dwindles, and I start to feel empty, just like the gaping Emptiness inside me.


    I am still weak with ear...

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    PULLABLE TORSO DOLLS

     

    Why is it that nowadays you can only be a puppet on the chessboard of your life and not a person who lives and thrives?! On the branch of a spiral vortex, your existence is torn apart, and the expensive promises of treasure, promised salary increases, monthly fixed payments are cheap, paper-cup V.I.P. they put on an unfair body at parties. A lie hidden behind words, a pseudo-concept.

    Torzó-idol is broken, you have become a puppet yourself, because you believed it and let others use it as they please, and you can no longer turn back, run away, because it is not possible! Like a coddling dream-vision, so was your invisible life; you never let them really and honestly get to know you, because you were afraid of the shame of open-faced humiliation.

    This present-day festering and dirty World: a statue of luxury illusions that look like an idyll! Wild machos drive around with Ferraris and Porsche 911s, while the ladies, like exotic wildflowers, ...

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    EXIT

     

    Everything swam there, ran aground...

    It was as if I had been left alone for good in that fatal disinfectant-smelling, stale urine-smelling hospital corridor, where the Beloved, who broke up with me because of my lack of money, my Sisyphus, gave birth to two boys one after the other. And the mental stigma wound was deep and gaping, as was the mournful silence of mutual loyalties and conspiratorial betrayals.

    Two thin skeleton nurses came in and pushed the Beloved, who already had a belly the size of a barrel, into the operating room, and she complained loudly enough that she couldn't wait to finally be a more real, slimmer woman and who, like a rock, would not let out a single scream or stray sigh. heard, but epidural anesthesia is sure, which is definitely useful! The Dear One was a dreamy, exotic Angel who, with a single, expressive look at Heaven, was a lasting cure for the gloom of my shipwrecked soul.

    The ominous crypt walls, w...

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    LETTER TO K.

    We are standing at the aged, carefree gate of Autumn. In front of me is the space cabin of a gutted, former push-button telephone booth, in which a push-button telephone is sold. I ask: Does everything come to such a fate? An object that has no draft at its end or length, as if it were an airy space itself.

    Even further away, the shadows of the night grow as some heated, drunken punks frolic to their heart's content, knocking over beer bottles and smashing them on each other's hips. It would be better to close my hearing ears, to close my seeing eyes tightly, to completely shut out this messy, broken world! In my soul - fortunately - adulthood does not apply even now, although the fourth X is dangerously close.

    The slaps of taunting and public shaming might one day become nothing, if I myself believe that there can still be some small good in this no man's land. And maybe the sudden-soon death of my loved ones is not valid either, that they left me on...

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    LETTER TO K.

    We are standing at the aged, carefree gate of Autumn. In front of me is the space cabin of a gutted, former push-button telephone booth, in which a push-button telephone is sold. I ask: Does everything come to such a fate? An object that has no draft at its end or length, as if it were an airy space itself.

    Even further away, the shadows of the night grow as some heated, drunken punks frolic to their heart's content, knocking over beer bottles and smashing them on each other's hips. It would be better to close my hearing ears, to close my seeing eyes tightly, to completely shut out this messy, broken world! In my soul - fortunately - adulthood does not apply even now, although the fourth X is dangerously close.

    The slaps of taunting and public shaming might one day become nothing, if I myself believe that there can still be some small good in this no man's land. And maybe the sudden-soon death of my loved ones is not valid either, that they left me on...

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    HUMAN STARS

     


    You don't need to wait for a ready-made home juggler. From the light palm of hobby-critics, the award-winners made the old-fashioned liking-selfishness - if they don't even know what it means - innovation, development, as an avant-garde performance.


    There are more and more brainwashed clamoring demands, and if you can't do anything else, save your manuscripts in time-resistant formats digitally, just in case this unworthy posterity of today recognizes it.


    Don't believe that the lyric is simple logic, just like the twisted, complicated mathematics. The changing, harsh Time - beware - sweeps without question along the gentle fields of the soul exchange rate.


    Your imagined, idyllic dreams are being measured by your dishonest slave ship bosses in diligent but futile overtime, in nerve-wracking situations - you would still be attached to somewhere where you might still be respected in a dignifi...

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    SIGN FRAGMENTS

     


    I cannot exist visibly, present - only invisible. I do not negotiate with those who serially break the established human laws. Rarely can I just feel that I can be a precious One among many.


    I just feel that tomorrow's hell-shelter will sink me into a seething pit, humiliate me, and that I will stick to it, like flypaper or smelly technocol-glue, stigma marks must fall from my eye sockets.


    It would have been better if he hadn't pulled a suicidal nugget. If only scattered in the human sea of ​​cells and molecules - but still in something mortal in the direction of final annihilation.


    I didn't want to be such a sudden must-want dust eye, who walks around in a conditional incognito for a lifetime, and yet collects deliberately scratched wounds. To suddenly disappear into infinity with a single calculated move.


    A gentle, silent culture settles on me too, and you can...

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    DELIVERED APPLICATION


     


    If my brave Atlantis patience could have remained that I could solve the problems of everyday life that seemed mean once and for all, I would surely have found Someone who could be –, just waiting for me. 


    From the radiant heavenly pleasures of female faces, I would take a true pearl as a comforting gift. Yet, it could be a great grace if, instead of unnecessarily showering, accountable words, the solution was embedded in the ancient speech of your gaze: How much do I love you? 


    The mischievous weight of the lead-heavy trials we experienced together would not weigh our faithful hearts much, for it would be created and supplemented by an immortal flame of eternal-sacred trust and understanding. 


    The self-digesting poison of aching self-blame could not plant envious, murderous jealousy, wormy, marcona accusations in the souls of any of us. While one half of our hearts are selfis...

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    MOVABLE SHELLS

     


    Only the color and at most the shell, if you can see it. In the seed house, the black-brown seed is soaked and dried on the sand. He looks like an outsider wanderer, at the same time confidingly confiding, at other times even luring you in with an insidious desire.


    Its insidious layering is revealed by a regrown thick layer; it always escapes from your grasping hands. It inevitably dictates and interprets the meaning of Being; it casts enticing shadows in front of you.


    When the comical moment comes, you can see him slapping and deceiving his peers clinging to the branches of trees: maybe people also beat each other up in this way, take advantage of each other. Judgment trudges towards everyone with black lead weights, just like the executioner. At the frozen, silent bottom of slimy dreams, everyone can already guess that the rightly dreamed proud present is just a lie that started as a rumination!


    The inn...

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    SUMMER-WEEPER

     

    The murmuring foam of the Danube whispers: "Just come!" I'm waiting for you!" - The sickly wounds of the summer were still flickering above the sleeping city... A gust of wind rattles along the cobbled streets. The tongue-of-flame disease has already shown its teeth on the leaves of the trees.

    Even though the bud-popping laughing sunbeam ravens would still lure you with lies, the black-clad army of feathered thieving magpies is already settling on the rust-scarred arms of the dying trees. Most people are already a complete nervous wreck: starting school, everyday little problems and troubles! Totally insane brawls!

    Nagyobbacska's daughter hardly wants to hold the hand of her shivering, whining, squealing little brother as they march towards school. This is a fraternal fate, which is related to my sad childhood. "It won't be a problem, little one!" - I mutter to myself, who will soon turn forty!

    On th...

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    MOONLIGHT SONATA

     

    The landscape becomes so homely, in the shadows of the moon, it almost takes me in as well. Dead souls sleep in silence in the soft foam of the murmuring Danube...

    Their crypt cracks stare back like grotesque mirror images from the sections of truth-telling mirror-shards, and I still can't know who I can really trust?!

    There were laws for Loyalty, Nobility, Kindness of the heart: the soft minor music of hesitantly straying movements, as if a harp were calling restless souls to comfort them. A cherished, giving woman's hug, as only real mothers can love without compromising conditions!

    The final heart-gates should be opened so that we can get to know each other, and even in this you did not let me into the shelter of your golden heart! You know very well: you can't be completely happy with the One Being, until you selfishly only belong to yourself, until the outside world sees that you are different, because you are lying!

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    THE SECRET OF LIFE

     

    What could be the secret of life? With our birth, do we enter the crumb-minutes of our existence, declared counted in the book of the great fate of mortality? And who can say and ask the question again, was it not a futility, a joy, a happy will to live? - Each person, with his own inner spiritual need, discovers the creative intention and the lovable humility of the state of life, that it is an ordered and formulated biological and eternal human

    created on earth as the fruit of harmony of emotions, and destined to increase values ​​for this age! The fateful wish of birth, just like the unjust death, cannot be created with a sufficiently determined and firm will, and to mourn the thought that wants to calm is all in vain, it is only possible to surrender to the System of existence condemned to mortality, broken in the midst of mental agony!

    With the content of every single day, you may leave more precious fractions of minutes for us...

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    MY ORPHANED HONOR

     

    In a dog-like way, I have often imagined myself filling the present of those eternally sinful minutes! I may be an orphan and often and in many ways a coward and a hypocrite, but I have an honor that fills my existence and is sanctified by the password of loyalty that subordinates everything for something! – The faithful ominous cry: How do you always remember who you are? - I have never betrayed nor did I intend to have sinned in any way with my truthfulness!

    I listened many times and many different things on the hilltop of the deepest fertile solitude, where our old apartment building stood with its feet isolated in the ground, wondering what the unknown present and the distant, mortal future time could tell me? Here, peace and reconciliation with the big world market, or do you want to work like a robot while two concrete hands contain a thought that is conceived and wasted?

    Hair! - Will there be enough bread-earning to sustain my existe...

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    REMEMBER FOR SEPTEMBER


     (To N.K. with love)

    It was September, and in the summer volcanic and scorching sauna, the Cyclops-eyed sunbeam shed its rays of light and its crimson smile on me! All of a sudden he, perhaps sent down to earth as a chosen ray of hope by divine providence, stopped in front of me! And her undisguised, unselfish kindness was hidden there, clothed in her mischievousness, in the mirrors of her gentle chestnut soul among the shining shooting stars!

    The gaze of heaven on earth had an intoxicating effect on me and disarmed me of the vain pretensions of every actor. I didn't dare to eavesdrop on untruthful and ill-intentioned things half-heartedly, because with her look she expects my mother's sincerity and is humble.

    his determination greeted me back! - And as my only living conscience, who knows about the sealing weight of all my small or even big and fearfully hidden sins and secrets: From the armored will of Honesty, a single decisive s...

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    MEMORY AND MAGIC

     

    Down there in the port of Rhodes were waiting barges...
    The dawn has only just broken, but the smaller tadpole-sized fish, smaller crabs, and armored turtles are already coming forward. The calm depth has never been so clear and transparent. I listened to the murmuring heartbeats of the water surface for you. And while only a few fishermen were fishing, my sad heart sent its wishes to you.

    My albino skin could only rarely escape from the murderous bombardment of UVB rays: like a boiled lobster, blisters the size of third-degree fists proliferated all over my body, and while I was tormented by the harpoon pains of sunstrokes, especially on restless balmy nights, I hoped that if I looked up at the silver-colored stars somewhere far away, you would also think sometimes on me...
    I was rocked by a natural hum that wanted to be stimulated, superstitious, and diligent, and my instincts, which were constantly at war with moods.

    In the eveni...

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    WAVELENGTH OF PEACE

     

    Could Peace mean a quintessential harmony in everyone with the balance symphonies of the soul, and with the harmonious Atlantis islands, which all the people who exist, breathe and strive to exist want to create? - How fragile and how vulnerable and easily wounded the mind is even in the wandering catacombs of nervous systems: The ever-present silence that encourages internal self-examination!

    Fertile solitude, with its delicately caring womb, can humbly take me captive only when the gondola of my soul sways gracefully in the sea-storms of heightened stress or grinding mill nervousness and eternally worried, like a single self-assured and carefully present swan! – The pincers of anxious morphing squeeze the sparks of trust of my weak and stumbling half-heartedness with its poison loops so that I can do it and actively contribute to everything with sufficient and unbreakable will and faith

    I just have to make myself believe with my self-made...

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    I ask myself

     

    "What would you say, besmirched in your half-heartedness - I said to myself - what would you say with your stumbling and stumbling boy and willow poet status if the great One came, to whom you would offer the rest of your remaining life as a sacred oath of your loyalty? If He came and told you that you are cherishing vain and politely naive dreams to appease your desire for reconciliation, because everything is different:

    that what you believed about him in your imagination and in your dreams of a romantic paradise, you thought, and maybe you wanted him: It was only a mistake and a beautifying lie, and He, whom you have called so many times your sweet, dear and only aunt, is now here: your delusion, and it was an idea, and now here it is suddenly, from the wedding waves of foam, like a true pearl, an incomparable treasure comes and stands out, because, having met the student who loves him and sings love songs about him most fervently, he pledges to yo...

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    FACING FATE

     

    Out there, the brainwashed, rude, wild apathy was up to his neck.
    Silent moonlight faces dig deep grooves for themselves,
    while there will be a time when the Past-Present will be buried long ago. Career-dreams, dream-jobs, longing-for-everything-loves dissipate into ice-cold cosmic space, like the last separation from Life before the heart attack!

    I recognize you grotesque, twisted face! In the depths of curved mirrors, like a little worm from sly, you hide at your pleasure, while the Being outside is brewing or grinding: whenever you have a minute's taste for which. Perhaps the disgust of hiding doesn't bother me as much as the prying evil of vile people, the shame of humiliation.

    The dear-lovely words sound like a wind-blown gallows on the lips of the Superstitious Dear; they dry up and crumble under the aged palate. The faithful mirror still holds famous faces! They march without shadows, like code-wandering ghosts o...

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    AS IF THEY WERE EMBARRASSED


      
      

    In a brainwashed past-future riddled with delusions, when even the gallant man slips back into himself, while the eternally revolving Time rages and fights with the returning Infinity. In the presence of body odor, everything surrounds you in silence; veiled, admitting the self-conscious shame. It's as if those who could remain news-makers and truthful should be deliberately ashamed of themselves.

    Centrally specified regulated thoughts or ideas go to one. They walk their huge, bribed circles in the orbit of manipulable nervous systems, while looking for tangible evidence of the peace they have found.

    Only the scrappy anti-mortgage of tooth and nail prosperity, survivability at any cost, matters to greedy career-chasers as much as it does to raging slobbers. Our imaginary dreams are never followed by real action. The stress and risk factors of everyday life, which have become unbearable, hug each other. Even t...

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    PREDICTION ABOUT MYSELF

     


    When my chewed-up bones will soon be laid before decomposing worms and beetles, will and blind luck will still flicker on top of the rich, undeserved booty, when they have already been buried.


    Even in the last hour, the beating pericardium rarely fades among layers of dust and ashes enclosed in urns. They will also voluntarily copy some of my pessimistic manuscripts as a hobby or for fun. Concise lines of verse wink and look at each other like accomplices.


    One final day, when I am paying attention to something other than the haunting consciousness of Death, the Pisces will easily cut off my shipwrecked fate, and I have no doubt that the three fate goddesses will be sad to the core, when instead of words of warning and admonition, melancholic drums beat...


    It could have been a blessed folly, a mischievous childish joke only for those who definitely wanted to know him. But those who dared to open their hear...

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    WEIGHT OF MEMORIES


      
      Your 38 years passed soon. You can now sense the approach of the conscious end, the happier memories of fallen joys, if they were all ended up in the garbage dump of memory.

    Someone's kind, heavenly smile can never greet you again. The clouds of your selfish-stubborn, flighty reputation will soon be blown away by the vulture-throated wind.

    You could once and for all make peace with yourself and with the lying, pretending world that constantly stalks you and surrounds you. Your wandering, revenge-hungry fate did not label you - but it sent against you the many vile and unjust verdicts.

    You should open the heavy mundane marble gates of your loneliness again so that you don't always philosophize or morph unnecessarily about: what can be yours? Where do you go towards your gloomy, hopeless future?!

    The price of your peace is already paying a tragic price. The number of people around you who left you becau...

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    FROM WHOM EVERY DAY


      
      

    An alarmed desire to escape on a loop of violated Soul, maybe only for a few minutes. An alarmed pecking at the backyard of self-confidence that has been humiliated to dust. It is becoming more and more difficult to rediscover true happiness in a loop that snaps.

    Every forgotten movement and unnecessary word torments me because it selfishly falls back on itself. Silently screeching, seemingly sincere actions can break into pieces if a fragment of it touches and injures an impulse or emotion.

    Szirt-In time, terrifying fears crackle like dry branches. The echo, which was once ours, descends with a howl in existence. Wild knives, profanity and aggression threaten everywhere. The past hoots hauntingly like the sounds of owls, and warns incessantly.

    Our intentionally misdirected, distracted thoughts wander uselessly and then fall down with the nuggets, where sooner or later everyone turns.

    Corrupte...

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    Extinguished instinct paradigms


      
    Why does the first romantic night spent together have to be rough and hungover? Why is the hero-duel of the taxing organs involved in making love so saliva-producing that it's downright disgusting?! Why did the ecstasy of the Universe feel unbearable in the orgies of accumulated impulses? Can we survive ourselves in two bodies united in a fused unit? Don't we change, like butterflies that have evolved in a silk cocoon, so that for every fulfilled joy, Hangman-Death cannot be the only source?!

    Two androgynous souls lay next to each other in festive majesty, and this was imagined by the order of the Worlds, which was ordained from eternity. It is known that many times we grope in the nest of our secure present as if we were searching for precious stones in a crater-deep mine. From time to time we tend to forget about the softer contours of our sexuality so that our stunted animal instincts can come to the fore.

    The star shower of...

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    Boundaries of emotions


      
    Beneath Faces The dusty layer of time, dim memories, and all compromised, faked, or just beauty-born kitsch and fakeness peels off all at once - until in the end, everyday life that creates wrinkles is left bare and shriveled.
    Human emotions are a terrible sparrow's nest, because there is always a false word or an attempted betrayal. Why is it that we never chase and follow the footprints that we think are lost, rather the ones that are moving away from us?! Why does the dulled desire-will continue to dazzle, when the boundaries of bargaining minutes and moments are already invisible?!

    Now, brainwashing and arming self-awareness is already ongoing. Because in fact, he who has lied to his opinion and principles - only he can seek; money, job, success-seeking full life. No one has yet been able to declare himself a winner or a loser from the fever of purgatory. A thick, mundane thicket of weeds and weeds overgrown with soul-suspiciousne...

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    Being trendy


       
    Party queens with botoxed, glued-together faces melt like wax into V.I.P.-scented luxury lives. Here and afar, not a single honest-truthful look can miss the pleading pleadings of their dusky, fish-lipped fish-lips restored with exaggerated butt-fat, with which they occasionally - if their attention is drawn to them - raise a word to save animals or humanity without ever knowing what they were talking about. they spoke.

    They eat indigestible sushi and Caesar salad by the bag, because their personal trainers with bulging biceps in their short-sighted weight loss diets have convinced them that it is more beneficial to flash garlic pops than tank trunks. In a flood of Kivagi hair, they conquer every party designed for an individual, where sex and sexual instinct are the master instead of a conference of reason.

    In forced situations, they puke, slipping into each other's palace cellars and only trusting that in exchange for their free...

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    Creepy self-absorption


      
    My restless, unchained writhing in spawned honey-warmth, like a derailed shipwrecked malicious imagination. I feed on sadness. My head is a blood-red twilight. I know that I can only be a part of the One-Whole. The days closed to me still faithfully preserve the spark-igniting fervor of thoughts, even as the heat-stitches burning on my body.

    The dying sun paints flame-roses on my inflamed, feverish face. As if I were trembling in anticipation of my dying destruction. Once again they are saturated with shivering metropolitan Nineveh crowds of humanity. And if someone thinks of the black-clad Death, they simply wave away. A searching laser beam, if only there were human treasured eyes, which immediately condemns liars and fakes, while immediately praising truth and honesty, like the self-clarifying, holy will. Why do today's waves of multiplied grief flow like a single fiery, cosmic white glow, while sinking the accelerating time into the grou...

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    Unparalleled probability


      
    In the chilling wilderness of our earthly destiny, two people can hardly make order out of romances. Angry gorillas and bushes of insidious creepers strictly follow the precise geometric rules of healthy coexistence. Only the muscular, athletic, trained secret colossus and their chirping canary partners can form relationships and win eternal loves.

    And anyone who transgresses the indifference of jerky trendiness will be immediately arrested. They walk around society as stealthy killers, strictly taking care of a healthy social order, as Nietzsche once wanted. They decorate their hard floors with glass tiles to make the stigma steps of pain more comfortable. "Perhaps all this is just an appearance."

    Day by day, the melancholic plan, the pre-transformed, the planned, wears out. The graph can be adapted to them, but they can fiddle with numbers that are accurate but false. Maybe one day they will understand that they should exis...

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    BRIGHT-CIRCUS

    After the mass psychosis of stadium construction and the one-tanker obsession that was proclaimed to be indecent, was it not enough that the rotting plaster on the snow-covered walls of life-saving public hospitals and crèches yawns a grave, that even the memories of the past that were proclaimed to be weaklings swell up in hairline tiny cracks?! - And while the past may be reckoning and understanding at the same time, the present is becoming a lie, a falsehood.

    Hate-mongering, lying, ass-licking oligarchs licking each other like a pack of delicate puppy dogs. They fill their individualistic worlds with stories rewritten in selfish ways, and there will be a great Paul and a star turn again. But there would be a good number of pleasing and admonishing examples on the altar of corruption proclaimed sacred: above the abyss, can they really not feel so much that their petty career greed is finally over?!

    They have been reduced to a bunch of self-selling, delib...

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    CONCERNED SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS

     

    I would like to go back
    When all that remains of me is dust and ashes,
    It is never easy to forget the taste of moments of Everything,
    the immortal star view of the One-Someone, and life.
    It's so hard to forget that it could have been a small wooden house
    on the edge of a restless, capricious ocean,
    the tinkling sound of true pearls and shells,
    the intimate harmony of romantic, balmy evenings.

    Two little, toddler angels would have built sand castles
    among soft sand dunes, understanding is the main motivating force for good brothers. And while the sole fillet would have been roasted on coals, and the sweet potato Kedvesem would have baked crab cakes on open flames.

    Like a gentle, restless ghost from the other world, Hamlet's ghost,
    I would tread carefully on the sighs of my past and memories,
    I would just like to see if there is still empathy-tolerance among people, and i...

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    BACK WAY

     

    The stripped-down monologues are now without costumes: a bare prison-cage without mattresses! The old legend is already becoming a skilled fraud! The bewitched spell becomes a flickering reality: a teardrop hiding in deer stars! – The deep-rooted destruction of Decayed Dusk unleashes the distorted darkness in its wake! Gangster underworlds show themselves off as sleighs! I would try to believe with a child's trust in the Goodness present in everyone, the impulse that they can come on the wings of a helping-merciful Angel! If only there were a secret tunnel, through which even the tests of Being wouldn't seem so complicated! For a single moment, I could see the precious Lady with a petal heart, who comforts and heals more and more with her gaze!

    Unconditional love, involuntary devotion are just the giving crumbs of fairy tales; my palpable fear-anxiety reigns in the well-deep of my wandering-soul and gives voice countless times when questioned...

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    BITTER GAME

     

    Just follow me! Roar off my busa head. Run boldly into your loss, - what is practiced nowadays cannot be a sufficient argument or complaint, even if the withered, stunted democracy must be given time. It binds a person in shackles, like a wolf with a wolf, a prostitute who bargained with pimps - combined with an alert treacherous consciousness, an insidious steadfastness, which leads to continuous, petty cat-and-mouse wars, and therefore the imagined, dreamed future is always uncertain, sufficiently fallible.

    Poured down with a mass of sincerity, it melts into itself false feelings, it devours everything's hyena-smile, killer-stealth, narrow business line: a gun and a dagger that always only undertakes an equivalent service with money - it boasts of new career promises and therefore can be more horrible, more deadly as if you would do it yourself.

    Those who are his captives as loyal servants end up as collateral losers, grindable cogs. And wh...

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    Survival paradox


     
    Those who survived the petty squabbles of heroic loves that barely die, the suicidal thoughts of tragically perishing break-up attempts, and didn't stay or waste away on purpose in the mess of saw-toothed railway tracks just because he could get a lesson from the afterlife sooner than some, and this current pitifully consolidated business profiteering doesn't end with him either, - sums up the humble industry of little people like this.

    Don't expect a spectacular Sisyphus fall, a chess piece's destruction, they won't give him a dignified heroic end! The small existence, false compromise is guaranteed by the business policy of the non-existent company or bankrupt company, and the ingrained habit of still living.

    Surely, he avoided martyrdom of his own free will, and released the mantle of the abundant meat pots long ago; sympathy resurrected in friendly, loyal handshakes, insidious, diabolical intrigues lurking in tiny fin...

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    THE RESCUER ISLAND HARBOR

     

    For my illness, you give me medicine as a gift, every day, with a sincere and clear conscience alive from your crimson chalices! – It is because of you that within my skull of incorporeal and malleable matter they condense into a solid thought and undertake: the angelic glories of the Hearts of Love: that I can be here with you and feel you in my arms, all outcasts and therefore stateless! After all, every minute I watch with more and more diligent and persistent passion: how ticks are pulsating
    the twilight-colored star of your heart like a secret ticker: the Hopeful soul bell! If every day and every few minutes the frost braided my hair like a glorious laurel wreath, you would keep my remembering and contemplative youth in me! Because you are an island and a harbor, it matures inside you, like the foam pearls of the secret sea in drops! You give when the iron teeth of agony grip me: Pure devotion that gives birth to peace, tranquility, and harmony, an...

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    ARS POETICA

     

     

     

     

    I am an experimental person! I am writing down the sentences, or even stanzas, of the fruitful and reborn Prometheus lines of my thoughts as a sign of numbers that testify: One should not just relax and be entertained, but should reflect on the eternal guidelines and messages of the works of writers and authors!

    I'm human! So I have a greater responsibility than those who do not vibrate with the rhythmic vascular system of the world, or do not even think at all! Responsibility blessed with rock-hope: Humanity of conscience, the fact that you are also responsible, because you are an actively creating part of the world is more important than any pre-planned compass goal!

    I complain a lot! With a half-hearted confession of self-pity, I look at how it is possible to reach a peace agreement with a profit-seeking century that tramples people as individual individuals? I know very well: What would b...

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    SEVERED UMBILICAL CORD

     

    I sought my refuge so convulsively. I was tired of the poison that left me alone and tormented me. Judgment and words seethed inside me like a glowing no-man's land like a volcano. I'm still alive, although my days are gradually ruined, my fear of the future and monotony make it harmful. Like the color blind, who can rarely see a woman's lips, or a wavy, multicolored rainbow, I am forced to balance my will on a needle and rope, and in my battered heart, memories and thoughts are rather crusted over, giving their place to the connections of the manhood hidden in the depths!

    V.I.P.-evenings, Don Perinon, a tricked-out band army of snooping peeps flashes its fangs, envy and malice at the same time, if it takes five minutes of visibility to become nationally famous, this earthly, drinking Styx covers almost everything with its sediment.

    It is often better to hold on to nameless cries than the endless chains of unfaithful promises. My slip...

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    ADMONITION


      
    I'm going to be woken up many more times today. Who would have thought long ago that there would be a time when it would be better to hide, or to rest like moles in the ground. To disappear like a wild trail, whimsical and sudden, and to fold myself under without a sound. Already I deceive myself, I deceive myself, while I endure this relentless, greedy agony driven on by a lucrative careerist, a race for validation.

    The softening man, outcast, still crying, looks back in me, suddenly searching for his place, his self. The old cancerous bottom of crying spasms shakes out of me pain, self-destructive anguish, self-devouring mood. I look through life as one who no longer cares what the moderns or the greats think of him!

    I am bound here in exile, and what is left is a desolation, and in my heart there can be no refuge of wise peace. - The wandering stairs, like shackles, hold me in, and will not let me go. Arrogant, pitch-born, mongr...

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    Pilgrim ghosts


      
    We stumble upon a cemetery a day, a crypt-smelling Pantheon. The uncertain unknown hell is chasing our increasingly upset souls. They carve cryptic connections into infinite Time instead of themselves.

    What kind of life ends in birth, since death can interrupt and confuse everything ?! – We can watch for tiny signs until our cheap memories strike. No matter how he speaks to us, the dead will always be unfriendly and monotonous at first.

    He deliberately takes the paid silver money off his closed eyes. He doesn't want to hide behind anything anymore. Can a sea of grief fit in tight-framed, grim crypts? Her tears are also tiny spikes, glassy rose thorns. His big dentures and ordas' beard are also transparent. His old-flavored bones are mardossed by the worms of hell. in the way of ghost figures visible to float behind their mouth-watering snarls.

    After all, their lives are inventory shit. They pursue neglected scar...

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    SINGLE REPORT

     

    Belated certainty became difficult. Amidst the tingly and curious shells of pheasant chicks feathering to their heart's content, some of them always miss romantic flies.

    Fewer and fewer people can understand the pleasure-intoxication of tickling flirtations and pleasing bouquets of compliments, when they talk and walk in a crowded crowd of people, just like the consumer-coquettes doing business.

    All of them are purchasable prophets, and there is no greater sin than that honest-true love is written by material well-being and dreams of luxury. And if the wife is only twenty-two, while the groom is standing with half a foot in the grave, worried about Viagra.

    Even so, it's easy to get something that's squishy and expensive - that it costs a thirtieth of that. The intoxicating dream-intoxication of success or the self-destructive bitterness of failure is becoming increasingly common these days. In days that rot into an unbalance...

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    Complexity of things not visible


      
    Outside you can't see the line of gaps, the ornate gates, the scarred windows that lead down into the depths of Golgotha's walked souls. A single tearful plea, a squeezed daily movement, defines our ruined days.

    Thrown, witnessing stones all speak doom - but only beneath the surface. They tell of pre-existing, subconscious news, nursing scarring wounds. Temporary bliss read from cracked eggs, where the sins of the little man can be absolved by the feeble happy chanting of chanting chants that have been spanked just enough times over by the realistic little-thinker.

    The insidious blindness of cataracts on eyelids. They never see or understand what they should. With a true consciousness of Death, unceasing pilgrim souls set out on their journey to the final end of the world...

    For he who is forced to hide himself with purpose and deliberation becomes a little unresolvable, unknowable, and under the sinking surface his m...

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    Unnoticeable care


      
    A blessedly caring, faithful woman's hand stood in the lake, and it will not change my fate. He already wastes every pitiful minute left to me for the house of cards of unnecessary illusions - not so much -, his delightfully sweet, flaming heartbeats for love, for immortal Everything - he is afraid - they are all wasted.

    Throat-suffocating, interrogative moments gnaw their embittered emotions into my eyes. It is a difficult instinct to feel, and in their digestion of emotions to squeeze out its last and final thrashings of the abandoned, shipwrecked existence.

    In his drift, he himself is filled with more and more fresh pitiful, unworthy, humiliating wounds, which cannot be healed by good words, promises, medicine kisses. The heart and the remembering soul would yearn more and more determinedly and greedily for what had happened, while inside, the fool was working out thorough, precise plans for secret suicides.

    It's a...

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    A FRACTIONAL-WORD PRAYER

    In the crowded details of reality, the lamp-light of rising dawns Soon fade, fade; between depth and height There can be no way out but through a crying chasm! Space will be transformed into sound; in the tender touch of a single loving fingertip there throbs the eternal emotion spoken: wide pupils, radiant with bliss, long for the immortality of leaping minutes, deliberately distorted by the magic of visions!

    The true Seers always grope and live in a familiar, unobstructed light! Vulnerable grief will long open its petals and call to the Beloved of its faithfulness! The survivable calvary of every day is clustered in shouting eyes! - Stages of missions ringing in ear shells, Like cracked bells in haunting chimes! Wretched creatures, feral in their weakness, are not moved by pardon! Selfishly greedy they live for themselves alone!

    Already everywhere a multitude of selfish, calculating hand-washers Pilate Houses voluntarily in their star-bombing gazes; Lonely Calv...

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    THE TRACKS OF MORTALITY

     

    Human life rushes on and on, screaming like a speeding train, no longer willing to forget or remember, on the numbered tracks of mortality, doomed to be final! A premeditated strategy, decreed with Damocles' prophecy. 

    What could we have done and acted with deliberation and up to now: we could have existed, enjoying every blessed and gifted moment, and passed on our biological heritage to future generations, with a responsible and meaningful value-saving account, so that if we cannot do otherwise, we can continue to breathe in others as a carrier of thoughtful messages! 

    And besides, the most important task would be, if we could leave our footprints, which form messages, in the earth, which has given us its merciful and moral richness, as fertile fruit - to sow in the world, and to bear witness with masses of manuscripts as a cord document of the great jungle world in which we exist! We are changelings! The palpable tangibility of e...

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    SENSIONS IN THE SEA 

     


    Do you see Dear, the twilight blood-red dragon petal is slowly covering the foams of the open ocean. The horizon is a light foam silk, as if it were flying quietly, soaring like a sail unfolded in front of us. 
    The tiny, billion sparks of silver stars shine in your eyes as you confess the word "I LOVE you" and boundless, redemptive Happiness weaves benevolently like a wandering-growling, boo shaving. You are stroking me, and although I am still afraid of bodily touch, your sincere trust makes you a new person in the immortal minutes of the unspeakable Universe. We are two human Stars in condensed micro-minutes; sworn to Nice, True! Like those who will set off together on a long, unknown shore...  

    You see Dear! Though they say goodbye over our heads to the picturesque, Impressionist Twilight in so many lush flames, you whisper the secrets of your golden heart softly to me: "You are as different from the other men I h...

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    SELF-SPECTION


    ( Slowly turning to myself )

    Believe me with a calm and reconciled heart: I was just a little stubborn and lying with my child's head! And for only one comforting eternal grasp moment-percence, I believed that my mother would always forgive me, and her humble hand, who shared a blessing, would always comfort me!

    “I just started some inexplicable secret-workshop thought work: With which in my reborn Prometheus-treker, the thought – which wing test you can conceive - sometimes I feel, that the incomprehensible world of interest strikes back with the immediate deception of my sincerity and closes to the prison of silence! – I thought – many times in my sizzling dormancy on the coral islands of my dreams -, that the little man – inside - even weakly laughs at my struggling life-slap and inspiration-giving gray everyday life!

    And it seemed to be clear from the temptations of many bribing and hypocritical soul mirrors...

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    Sealed life-law


    ( V. K. with love )

    I can only hope that one day we will truly and definitively unite our bellflower hearts with an eternal oath on the true altar of sincere love! I know, although the ethereal and orchid waves of your voice are many hundreds of miles away, it still soothes and calms in me the sinful thrills of my desperate half-heartedness if I can only listen to the long and witness stories of your life! 

    I sway the shy and chattering little child in myself in the power of your mother! I was afraid of the final and relentlessly ruining the future that you would soon fall into the tissues of my life and now you could leave at any minute! With greedy diligence, your life organs can be demanded by a fatal and relentless law: Death! – Maybe that's why I feel selfish and existent with my stubborn faith when you waste the waves of your tender sunflower hair on me, who is already going out of his era anyway,

    and it is not a choice of a...

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    TRUE EARTH VALUES

                          

    Mischievous child voices haunt the merry and perfect morning hour by hour, nervously fiddling with lightning knives between the six-story elephant towers of the houses, and the Sun threatens. And like a fashion flower popping from a needle, heaven steps with fairy steps as the states of existence of heaven on earth, ladies!

    They walk pleasantly – vibrating, scorching the sweet scent of their scorching air in the city -, mischievous and winking many times, and living consciences who always know something: On the net pliers of thoughts, they want to bring together an innocent and secret date or a firefly of beetle-eye flirting and brave, macho, hesitant or very hungry men thirsting for new pleasure adventures!

    In one all-encompassing magic moment, the life fooling the deceiver boils from the overflowing volcanic outbursts of intellect today! A series of fallen and fra...

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    WHAT I SEE LESS LATER TODAY

     

    One must first keep track of not growing up too soon! Stay a clown, a joking conductor for a lifetime like a gray and annihilated orphan among strangers! For if you break into the human public consciousness early on, you will forget about being an adult too soon, and what it can mean somewhere inside and deep in hidden unrecognizability: Being and staying an eternal child!

     

    – Even self-forgetfully rejoice in
    to blow the birthday candles with a wide open good mood with the tiniest and seemingly insignificant things and a face that gives pearls of happiness! Whether there are still people on earth who can rejoice together in the mischievous and very sincere world of inner childhood – is important to me to symbolically detain all the childish lifestyles of my very youthful life: the glorious gift of playfulness, jokes, and perhaps self-forgetful and heart-warming laughter, because unfortunately I am especially terrified of t...

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    EPILOGUE

                                   

    For twenty-six years, my mother’s creative hand cared for blindly, and I inherited the lion-macies of my character from my good father, along with the unexplained volcanic eruptions of my moods! – Maybe, that at one moment there is a smile in my heart with happy self-forgetfulness between the defining slaps and front lines of existence, and at another moment the pessimistic voices of self-pity haunt my half-hearted conscience. The slow waterfalls of my tears harden with patience and yet self-pity! – Bottom line: I became a man! The long years that have matured in me have grown into a young young man, and yet deep down I have still remained a very fragile little man!

    If you experience unjust ruthlessness in a grumpy and inhuman jungle world: you are afraid, trembling, and under your blanket like a wandering and startled hedgehog is look...

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    FLOWERS OF WATER-LILY

    Oh, that delicate and superstitious colour! The emerald-looking scaly green, which in the summer's swaying, drunken stupor the trees put on like a ball gown when the first Cyclops sparkle, the blessed fertility-giving Sunbeam, descends upon them! When the night's shelter calls the diamond-eyed stars' fire-lanterns, That slumbering angelic breathing existence may not be endangered!

    The rainbow-coloured landscape still sheds its fertile and ripe sunshine: the fiery-wheel-flame of the hot tongues of flame, as if it were a flame! - I watch in mute emotion, how from the neighbouring courtyards of Budaörs and Törökbálint the hard-working and melancholy wind-breezes secretly smuggle cooling breezes towards the lamb-like clouds!

    May the hard-working and carefully guarding and kind-hearted angels play their peaceful and fruitful symphony of peace in my ever-fragile ears, if the ugly and deceitful world should leave me a penniless and alie...

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    HOPS OF HOPE

     

    The vigilant silver eyes of heaven look at me alone in the darkness that increases silence, in mortal time I burn the lanterns of candles, like the star sparks of hope-glories wishing to renew and I look at the tiny new ray of hope that might beautify the turn of tomorrow's fate and try to instill renewed confidence in the home of my morphing soul with a karakan will! – Now winter is sheer and hibernated

    already in solitude, the blessed Mother Nature is secretly preparing to jump into the stem again with its crowned sunbeams! Where is the angel-looking Ladybug dear to me now with the smile of the stars? He looked at me with the eyes of two gentle button chestnuts, and when the weakness was poisoned many times with self-pity, he chased the ash-colored clouds over the ominous sky of my head with a single gloomy look like Eden garden harmony!

    I get up in the morning with the sacred hope of every day, and I can only hope that the new beginn...

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    SPARING FRIED PIGEON

     

    What I gave as long-lasting minute time treasures, appreciating every priceless moment, I wanted to gather with careful cricket modesty with stubborn selfishness! Now, I would expect memories of long-lived physical and critical blade wounds as a frugal roast pigeon to heal by warming up by the rolling Being of time!

    Perhaps the only problem that is more unsolved and upset the spiritual balance, that recurring marcona and persistent ghosts that, as a nightmare, whine and sip the porcelain determination of my half-naked and breakable soul after day and try to get rid of them when they return in a bright tadpole living room!

    I have seen myself in every way: judging as a scarlet sinner stamped lazy and cool, the age I lived in was splashed upon me, and unjust accusations of unworthy ruthlessness were splashed upon me: A murderous knife-tip stab, and with the tempting and ruthless blunders of prejudice! – Yet that I had hoped and morphed, ponder...

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    UNKNOWN GAME

     

    Inside the seemingly endless worldly abundance, in the jungle-interest forest of the big city, the benefits revolve with its ruthless toys, and the gears that seem unable to rest are scrambling! They grind the one that got caught on the hook: man, machine, and profit interest, until you can stand in the care of great bales, and the Benefit is in order, and what is reborn with fertility: Money! 

    Hair! – Nowadays, in whose money purse green-bellied angels happily begin to jingle with a series of frequencies, they have the control of the World! And man, with a fallen and fragile will, may be glad that the shark-businessmen did not sniff out his free-spirited and independent thought products, because the ominousness of the ruthless value-resistant paper greed is already approaching! 

    Everyone work! With great honor and decent self-awareness, but let no one become a murderously ruthless victim and slave to Money because of profitable g...

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    RUN IN HUMANITY YET!

     

    I was once a snap of fun, naive childish self-forgetfulness, and happiness, and independent cheering. I did not speak and did not ask the hidden and feared child angel self of my heart to present my soul with self-forgetful and mischievous devotion, my restlessly morphing self-consciousness, that peace be to the island of Atlantis, I get lost in a secret halfway with happy ignorance.

    I was once a stigmatized clown deprived of tragic laughter with galadic intentions and scarlet sins, who innocently forced the world's conspicuous testimonies into prison, in the eternal language of humor and laughter that wanted to forget everything: he just got lost and sent a smile that didn't fit there!
    And I became forever a morphing question in the swamp world of my own petty self-pity: I became a neighbor of an unhappy shadow of a stubborn will of interpretation, love, happiness, so to myself, my well-arranged everyday life!

    Eternal complaint, a...

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    CHANGING HOPE

     

    The days are graying again and the milk is being taken into the fog! Man must lie on a panther night and run after work as a bitter breadwinner! – Many would not believe, s imagine – how monotonous and monotonously infinite every little moment movement, a tiny human story, seems in the sour cream density of the dawns! 

    Many times the tears of pearls of the Son of Man – believe the galad s cudar world answers bitterly about it: “Why did you come to this earthly creation, because you don’t see, you’re just a surplus!” - S the creative man who wants to create in the paintings of imaginary dreams seems to be destroyed in a single moment-fragment, because he wanted to give birth again: the individual, and the valuable object complexes personally interpreted, and now he is forced to take a bitter account: I have to listen for a good few times - to discover with my redemptive death – later with renewed faith ho...

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    I CAN'T GET OUT

     

    I'm a chess piece in the wrong place for a deceitful and mischievous game of secret coincidences! Today I started morphing about you again – whether you actually repented of your sins when you left me with a wooden picture and didn't care about my true-glory sincerity - you left without breaking your guilt! 

    My fat-eyed eyeballs, which are carefully watching, still evoke among their precious definite experiences all the elf-floating of your swan-white celebratory dress and the noble-minded bravery of your angel face, who is quite expressive and all-forgiving, today you thought you were lost again, but you are always my returning darling as blessed care. Yet in that fatal Valentine's Day heart message, you managed to smash my medical malpractice heart into thousands of billions of pieces, and you sold yourself very soon

    the moral personality of faith to be unshakable: Which has always been thirsty for honesty, and you have s...

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    THE FULL OF DOUBT

     

    In the secret corner of my soul, cherished by no one, my little nook is chewed by a tiny man, whispering and riding my ears! ,, Listen to yourself! beware because the world can trample! ” - whispers with murderous self-awareness the petrified and pure honesty! The firefly of biological existence I know still retains its halo light, that the heart-shaped pounding rose in my chest is still ticking and beating intact! How long does the feeling of free life throb in me? 

    Believe my body, like a cruel toothbrush or a prison guard, is locked in a cage, and my soul aches because of it! How long can I cast off the sheer and wild scent of the air, the good and fresh feeling of the breath, how long can I hear my sweetheart calming down next to me in harmony-silence, and in his dream rocking his ominous and dirty dreams, and I would kiss my loving, hard-working heart! – S to look softly and hesitantly into the nursery: Does the blessed fruit of our l...

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    The knots of our existence

     

    Human existence: Gordian bog-knot! You get tense on it if you want it, if not all life-slaps, human blunder and compass-intense! – It's a cold-sealed thing to fix! Those who broke into the wheel during the ordeals confess, and do not yet have enough will to tear off the bundles of money that haunt their consciences from their own soul prison and buy rank titles!

    We balance our destiny on a solid mountain cliff over our ordained and mortal line of destiny, the threads of which are carefully morphed by god-hands try to impose with understanding compassion! And we don’t know how we counted our clockwork days 

    which will be the final day, which, with its ghost count, will call into question the duel of conscience within us? We live responsibly for their spiritual peace, and for the understanding acceptance of others and our families, and the moderate human consciousness: That we are neither more nor less than our strangely starin...

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    THE PARADISE OF HARMONY

     

    Maybe it was just some long-lost pain-sighs, and I was looking for a soul rupture, always in a defining and trying soul shape! The eternal secret, and the miracle that transcends heaven in the eyes, and as a coveting peace symphony longing for understanding and comfort, exists in the universe of all inner vertebrate consciences!

    In the metamorphosis of the paradise moment that landed on the ground, I wanted to listen with my phonendoscope ears to feel what secret content and fateful messages could sigh on the all-encompassing open map of our two true pearls' foreheads, and is it still possible to attain the healthy grace of the soul bell that fills everything and solders everything into a heartfelt unity, if the last refuge shelter of the supporting friendship alliance seemed to cease around us?

    It doesn't hurt anymore! Only as much as the aching on the rebirth of Prometheus and the growing despair of whether there would be anyone else in...

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      I WANT TO HAVE A EXAMPLE OF HER

              

    I would like to take an example from her who does not give his cheap earthly juss for profit and profit laurels, in whom there is more Humanity that never and never gives itself: vertebrate self-awareness, which designates the compass of the whole One honesty as a protective veil for a whole meaningful life! – I would like to set an example from him whose soul is a treasure itself, in whom the eternal holy thought, which is always able to renew, shines and shines like a halo: 

    Selfless help that helps all people through an obstacle that tries and only asks for faithful, sincere self-awareness as a caring sacrifice gift! – I would like to be an example of him who, as a heartfelt look of mothers, he heals as a cure with a single and eternal heaven look: When I was the weakest in my will, and I left myself somewhere in the swamp world of self-pity, who is restless in my soul and feels and hears its inner...

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    AGE-PICTURE IN 2010

     

    A lot of human soul bells roar, a message as preaching words in many people, a desperate remorse like millions of little tiny souls of crystal shards, when, as a single noble task, they can finally unite in complete order, the eternal law of Damocles: according to the atomic vibration of the Universe, point to the life of the compass? Man is born a fall and a fragile porcelain gift, and he would need supportive care 
    ensuring maternal harmony and caring kills to comfort her so that her hunger for peaceful love will calm down forever! Between the weathered centurion walls of an era when the angel-given existence of infants was cursed and the alleys and incubators were entrusted with the ruthless ice loneliness, let them drip as a fragile future seed in post-natal reception prisons and new mothers 
    they are packed into the nets of sixteen-year-old children with their long-lost and abandoned moral self-awareness: the responsibility of being huma...

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    WELCOME TO LOVE

                    

    Chestnut in your hair: a wreath of amber, chestnuts in your eyes: a brown diamond with all glow and halo! Your chestnut scent: it enchants my lost and foreign soul! – In your voice, danol is your charming tit and fragile virgin figure, what a snowdrop! My sweet soul, if I may, even once, that you would kiss your grace and supplication to my soul as a protective and fearful gift, for there are days when I have only my own faults, and because of the torments of passing away, I feel sorry for myself in a chatter-stumbling block!

    So I ask, and I can only hope that my quick-flying Pegasus prayer can reach you one more time! Will you love me so much, my dear, if ugly and old with silver cauldrons, and on my head: crusher-der, but I remained: in love, in love… "In honesty, I'll stand before you every day after day and ask my fateful questions! Would you share with me every minute of our ...

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    YOUR LOVE LIFE

     

    Thank you for the golden rule of faithful cowardice: escape, that the fragile hourglass of your existence is still together! Thank you for the watchful and watchful glances of the eternal end and your guardian angel for smuggling the essential peace to you with intimacy under the gracious angel wings of your free hidden four walls! Thank you for your trick-stumbling caution that the rest of your life is organized and overcomplicated 

    left, though you should know that as a ruthless chess piece, you are a prisoner of a disease that pulls your body’s bone nest or into your old age. Your home and your destiny comforts you with humanity and gives you the comfort of a gift. Strive to find the eternal island of harmony and tranquility, and while you can! The huge jungle of the world looks at you as a shoreless aim-lost and restless and wounded game, because the false compass that has lost its way and path unfortunately shows something else!

    A...

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    THE WANT OF THE REST

     

    The bull-eyed wind sighed from the sky and sighed wild whiplashes with its lightning teeth! Even the drunkenness of the drowned breeze in the summer filled human hearts to the brim, but the raging and hurricane-roaring storm had already broken out! The June doomsday handed a ruthless and cruel verdict over our heads! – Like summer flaming, so is winter dormancy! And something could have broken under the fireball flame of the sunball because everything became more terrible and the heavens were vindictive 

    his bullet ice projectiles took relentless satisfaction for their grievances on the variegated skulls of houses and on human harvests and fruits! 

    A diligent foal drove the warming heatwave into the destructive Word tiny crap! However, the air just didn't want to be refreshed! We should have prayed and knelt with humility and in the ancient way of repentants to atone for the grace of heavenly nature as the magic power of talto...

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    MATURE-HEAT

     

    The curved shadow spread drunk, caressing like a black cat's mustache on the fluttering swan-white house walls! The halo maturity of the summer effervescence is open: Like the last unquenchable thirst-saving desire for ice cream! They also ate six or seven dumplings on a handle that day, the whining consolations of the naughty youth, and the girl-angels came in a dense line and went with flirtatious self-awareness and a disarming seductive smile that 

    scout the male hearts that still want to conquer the unsuspecting. The enchanting snake tamer was the Cyclops-like fireball: the Sun scorched the fruit flavors of the summer with its secret nature will, and peach nectar vines collapsed in harmony intoxication in the pergolas of garden shadows, as if they were meant to be puttony bride's by the prolific creator: the winemaker! This is the world of intoxicated and idyllic dreams for the harvest of summer effervescence

    he had an intui...

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    HEART-RELATED LAST TIME

     

    Every little memory should be shattered, like the twin-masters of crystal mirrors, and hidden deep in seven-seal handcuffs on the loneliest northern corner of the cold stone soul! Like the whims of the non-fresh autumn season and the goblins of disease, we should throw away all the summons of past that tears our hearts and the emptiness of our bad and most painful memories!

    I try to shove into the unused room of my pituitary maze the damn factual data of my relentless and torturous past, and closing my silent ear canals, yet I believe to hear in ever-honesty the whispering and wise admonitions of my eternal inner space voice: "If you do what will be – if an age comes when the future left alone will be remembered?”

    And whoever could still experience and know the eternal secret seals as sincere justice in the past believed to be forgotten would be good to, if, as a witness, someone would understand the erroneously wandering –...

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    HEART-RELATED LAST TIME

     

    Every little memory should be shattered, like the twin-masters of crystal mirrors, and hidden deep in seven-seal handcuffs on the loneliest northern corner of the cold stone soul! Like the whims of the non-fresh autumn season and the goblins of disease, we should throw away all the summons of past that tears our hearts and the emptiness of our bad and most painful memories!

    I try to shove into the unused room of my pituitary maze the damn factual data of my relentless and torturous past, and closing my silent ear canals, yet I believe to hear in ever-honesty the whispering and wise admonitions of my eternal inner space voice: "If you do what will be – if an age comes when the future left alone will be remembered?”

    And whoever could still experience and know the eternal secret seals as sincere justice in the past believed to be forgotten would be good to, if, as a witness, someone would understand the erroneously wandering –...

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     WISHES OF SALW

                       

    The Human Heart Chalice: The Wish Bridge of Sighs! As a gift to organized dreams, he asks for the infinite and treasures of human life, the ancient lesson of secrets, what makes man human? And why, in the mortal mortality of existence, must struggle to move forward and fight a life-and-death besieging struggle through a single fragile life?

    A million times, and perhaps secretly cared for and devotedly, we have asked our conscience floating as an interior lady countless times: Our dreams, desires, and wishes as well-designed recipe theories by the time we produce them, to bestow our counted days with him one last time in the scarlet sin of our lives? 

    Surely, in our mortality, our fallout should also be prepared for account, and with a firm and unbreakable will, we should send a message to the forest of our sincere existence, the beautifying distance of our dreams, the fragile inf...

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    INCREDIBLE REASONS

     

    If all of a sudden your things turned out that way, that the transport of oxygen in the twilight blood tunnels would stop in your calcium and sick bones, what would you say and what would you say to a life-and-death world and only fighting each other if you had to die suddenly? What would I say? – I would say that many things thought of little and insignificant nothingness 

    in my earthly things I made my blunders and mistakes with tons of scarlet shots, but I tried my best to learn from everything from my soul spine! And whatever my creative whipping mood, I remained a messenger and half-hearted pen-turner of this turning point!

    I would admit that what life condemned to mortality and slap-existence with Paka thread was meant for me as a direction of decision-compasses and measured it by a single myself incessantly bad, or, if possible with a cold head, considering the saving humility of good and noble things, I have committed only and ...

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    BETWEEN OBJECTIVES

     

    We continue to struggle and fight like machines and machines. The best of our time is doomed to mortality around the numbered pages of our own existence! And whatever we go into: Our creative footprint to age our cultural footprint as a legacy is coming to an end anyway, and it calls us to itself as a direct shadow friend: Death! 

    - Here is the world according to the Money Act of Interests and Benefits, of which – doubt may be in vain - get out more! People! – The purposeful and determined soul force, and the humane ancient, yet human will: Spine characters who we are, the books of thought ideas reborn day by day, which our brains have closed as hard-working printers

    the forgetfulness of Time often forgets the scarlet-guilty stamp of – as a conscious conviction! The point of conscience and content can truly begin if you have truly descended in the deep wells of yourself in the soul and discovered it, and you have known your...

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    CAPTIVITY

     

    Caged cool and half-naked bird: Our soul-body has been imprisoned in the doomed bone prison of our mortality since we came into the world! – We will be increasingly squeezed by omniscient organ unrest: every tiny bell-ring of our heartbeat whispers the patiently numbered and measured eternal messages of our days here on Earth!

    As alien shipwrecks of the only body, we will always be imprisoned as prisoners in a bone museum while the statutory sand-minutes of our existence will falter: would we be just organic matter, bone and tactile and perceptible bone tissues? 

    It can not be! Full of existence with small moments of magic: Determining and perhaps all-decisive encounters that leave deep traces, flaming firefly glances, and extraterrestrial heaven romance! In every creature: Thus there is something special and unrepeatable unique in the thinking and calculating man!

    My brain doesn't turn off, it glows under stress, it boil...

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    LAST ROAD-INITATION

     

    He stabbed and stigmatized the pain with his spikes that matched his stabbing knives and stigma signals! The vascular system of my heart has been splitting for days since its long and monotonous line! with his cruel chains and thorns penetrating my bone structure, he condemned and beat me so that, screaming in volcanic pain and crying, all my internal organs and my blood-maze nerves are now rhyming!

    The roaring cries for help and wo-emerging supplications surrounded the gates of my calcium body like a prayer! How long can I live even in peace tolerating the war of my organization ?! – S can I account for all my small requests and my wishes once and perhaps for the last time, that the eternal harmonies of rest take my soul tormented by spiritual wounds to the pardoning islands?

    The demanding and all-willing passing is what makes my gear my brain scare and threaten! – I am afraid that in one and indivisible moments of my last existence,...

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    FINDING A HOME

     

    ,,“Don’t go to my son in the uncertain and big world because you can barely know his threat yet! ” – said many times as a heartfelt and anxious heartfelt care my only mother! I was the curious crumb of his little child, being an unequivocal explorer, and with all-encompassing questioning ants, I longed to get to know the buzzing world that affected my personality, defining my existence!

    Since then, in the memory debris of my twenty-six years, I have been constantly looking for a problem with increasingly obsessed stubborn conceit! To understand, to explain to myself the determination of half-hearted determination the possible connections that can illuminate the answers before me with their essential meaning! It never occurred to me – in a single, defining moment and never - that I would ever have to deal with meaningless blade-negative criticism campaigns, and all I wanted to create in the lines of thought of my pensive intell...

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    MAKE THINK ABOUT

                         

    The dying minutes of years, in the manner of dutiful aggastyans, give man advice, and as wise and tangible instructions of compasses, force the labyrinths of the fertile brain to think! Man, as a traveler who wants to forget and settles for everything that has happened, carries on the erroneous decisions of his past through existence! We comforted someone with a strange unknown one minute later and tried to heal his spiritual injuries like the pain of spikes that remember everything forever with the healing balm of our kisses!

    And we have forgotten perhaps for an eternal and definite time – because we have erased from our memory the unforgettable and past characteristic figures we have respected in their moral vertebrate! Which thought safe or bank can preserve the rich and unforgettable treasures of remembrance? The characteristic minutes of the present are surrounded and multipli...

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    THE INTERNAL MICROCOSMOS

     

    The ever-renewing dissatisfied greedy hunger consciousness tears each other with his wolf teeth: the Yellowed Envy! For many, if given with compassion and heartfelt honor, the eternal and exemplary human lesson was unfortunately not enough! Many people march with relentless and repulsively ugly offensive words instead of knowing their friendly opponents who thought they were enemies with their conscience vertebrate self-awareness and trying to adapt to the volcanic eruptions of temper to understand the other tiny cosmos of spiritual life, and yet you can feel his delicate orders of existence!

    No and no! – A proud man with a stubborn self-consciousness, a habit of negative criticism who, with a different thought, idea, and perhaps a morally pure and unalterably humane personality head, steps out on the stage of life with sufficient vertebracy, it is easily trampled on by a conscious and ruthless judgment indifference that does not take human numbers, ...

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    MUD THROWER AGE-STYLE

     

    It often happens involuntarily in the self-awareness to judge the other as one-sided – man's actions or conscience - even though we really and really don't know ourselves enough! I try to get to know my self's often morphing and exhausted conscience with an increasingly persistent and optimistic conscience, but I may not succeed on doubt! – I have been accused many times, that I confess the imagined and idyllic lie and sing and go out long ago and according to a forgotten decency I am determined to courtship, although consciously with a half-naked compliment!

    Nowadays, we look for the stubborn and one-truthful connections of prejudices in almost everything, although perhaps the simplest task would still be to follow the ancient conscience of acceptance and understanding! In the catacombs of imagined and unjust sins, millions of people who have not been at all reluctant to witness as a just account So, they express their convictions:...

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    THINGS DEPTH SECRETS

     

    And I see the old childish man who, at a young age, in the shadow of the large quince tree in the crab garden, blessed with his grandmother in the lap of a protective shadow shelter, matured the scent of sweetness on the ground in the dragon-throated flame of the forty-degree sun! – We enclosed the grateful and ripe ornaments of the Summer with its scorching jewels in a mason jar: Fruits and ferries given to us by the fertile fireball, to have something to bring out in the modesty of the winter season and then – My God - how good was the chatter-stumbling in my naive half-nail

    with self-awareness Even with a child's head, the self-forgotten player is free to feel happiness! Well, I can't control it! – When chick secretly and inside – in a tiny little lap of the garden -, steaming and sizzling in the bell-ringing cauldron A world of mouth-watering and hunger-enhancing flavors has matured: Onions, tasty peppers, tomatoes and t...

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    ROMANTIC SOUL-PART

     The unspeakable seduction magic is tormented and captured, many times in the prison of a pure feeling in love with two human heartbeats, the sealed and holy vow: how much I love-I would even sacrifice- At a moment, you can be happy here with a sure loyalty here next to me! With my weak and naive childlike faith, I also lied to myself with my moral conscience that my real and sincere feelings would be pure, and maybe listen to my heart with my heart, but I have betrayed the corals of my inner secrets.

    I did not blame me in love with anyone else, and cherished his fragile shoulders like a naughty and clownish mooded shoulders rested - dense pearl streams for a moment, my heart with all my sensitive seismograph with selfless confidence and humanity. I let go of his fragile porcelain personality, and I never lied to him about my real and understanding emotions - though he was persecuted with persistent purposeful and forgiving diligence to take away falsehood and admit a...

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    TREADMILL OF EVERYDAY LIFE

     

    Compromise: It's the main contemporary fasion these days! What shouldst thou have done, say, I pray thee, Thou omnipresent, the mercy of Providence, faithful as a watchman, in the desponding hearts of men? - Would it have been better to have surrendered to the congregation of hypocritically shapeless masks of character? - And as a person sold for a bowl of redeemable lentils, what could he have done, if the life-sustaining masses of paper, like a rising tide 

    kept on coming, sparing neither the balefuls of overhead and common expense, and settling in heaps, patiently waiting to take the safe refuge above my head? Today I have to work! Even with the relentless grasping consciousness it would be fitting, that with its crushing compassion when old age knocks with a dingle above our heads, there should be a retirement pension and a fixed penny of security! 

    With my unbreakable hopeful faith, I dared to hopefully, as a reckoning, to...

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    THE KNOTS OF OUR EXISTENCE

     

    Human existence: a Gordian knot! It can be tightened, if man wills it, if not every life-struggle, human blunder and compass-element! Let those who have broken their wheels under the ordeal, and have not yet the will to tear from the prison of their souls the money-bundles and titles of rank that haunt their consciences, confess it with a confession of faith!


    Translators of destiny, we balance on a firmly pointed edge above our destined and mortal yarn of fate, the threads of which the carefully pondering hands of God are trying to unravel with understanding mercy! And we know not which of our numbered clock-days will be the final day, which will challenge the duel of conscience within us with its ghostly reckoning?

    Let us live responsibly for the peace of our souls, and for the understanding acceptance of others and our families, and for a moderate human consciousness: That we are neither more nor less than our half-friends who stare at ...

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    THE THIRD TIME

     

    On the angel face, the iron-tooth-time has ploughed groove-memorials! The Time: A pilgrimage place of soul wounds and scar-wounds that are fleeting and ever-wishing to be forgotten! With each small and decisive fragment-memory we have locked in our hearts, we may gain wiser experiences, so that we may better accept our complete transformed personality-metamorphoses of ourselves: with responsibility, patience, and perhaps with our main accepting understanding!

    Precious time, which sheds the gift-emotions of minutes doomed to mortality, almost as pearl-ashes of drops, like the drum-beating of soul-bells longing for the blessed repose of remembrance, forgetting the only desire of the creative man for grace: to spend the rich and fertile fragmentary moments of his existence in the sanctified peace-harmony of peace among his family members, and alas! - every particle of breath and every hard heartbeat sounds like a bitter lamentation - for which, in his fateful...

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    EXISTENCE-CONCERN

     

    I was brought up by my parents' house, as opposed to the big-nosed, muscle-bearing Budaörs! A rich colony was once in prehistoric times the plot of land where now my parent's house, with rooted self-consciousness and hard humility, stood in its seven-storey slenderness! - Here I live in harmony-solitude, And many little thoughts in my secret hours of solitude Hold me captive, and surround me, creating fertile thoughts Like a mass of complimentary adulation! My socks and my warm things

    A great part of my finery and my warmth, is darned by transient forgetfulness, - But never mind, my cherished cavalier friends and hat-wearing lords, If no other, with proud self-consciousness, the little child in me strives to grow up, So that the secretly envious dog-tongues may not say, "Look at this big elephant-spirited child!"- My treasures: My cheerful happiness and my smiles, I'll pull them out of my secret inner drawer and dust them off!

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    FRIENDLY ATLANTIS

     

    I am no longer able to look for a real friend among strangers because of my brooding, introvertedness! It is as if my constantly alarming and screaming conscience is constantly telling me: "All desperate and aspiring hopes are futile!"- People have become careerists, profiteers and masqueraders who have been made prisoners and captives by the mass of coloured papers: money!
    The trouble with true allies is that in the 21st century there are hardly any of them left to survive! Survivors, for whom the concept of eternal friendship and togetherness still mattered, like the Word made flesh, and now that all human truth, relationships and family community have been destroyed, the Son of Man is left all alone! The Goodness and Humanity that remain as floating islands in the world are the more difficult to see, the more hidden they are from us!

    The sole and heaven-shouting source of the greatest error and trouble is that good men and true morals d...

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    FUNERAL PRAYER

     

    A gloomy and twilight thinning disturbed my peaceful sleep! - The feather-princes of dark cavillers knocked at my window with past invocations, and with their secret ceremonial voices of doom opened the otherworld of the graveyard! - Many a time have I feared, but in this ominous ghostly night the watchful soldierly voices of the trees only murmured in a secret whisper, warning me in my low ears, "Take care, for to-day the living watch for existence, and the dead welcome the risen grave world! - So it was that in my half-desperate hope I huddled between the boards of my protective bed, shutting out all that might bring danger around me, - until the gloomy visions subsided!

    On the steel-clawed arms of my cloak The heavenly birds of angels, Doves and doves, were humming a secret melody of woe! - They wished to banish the threatening dark death-voice of the threatening death-voice-but the last doom-chorus of the black crows was not hushed, but grew fatal...

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    PESSIMISTIC OPTIMISM

     

    I know that I am a guest but a stranger in the bustling human market of this great big city! I have sought in my existence the home of the hard-working and gentle workaday, and I have worked cleaning and polishing to make forty office rooms shine with a spotless sheen! Yet my shelter-home: Which at once became my home, and my roof, which against the natural laws, which have hitherto guarded and protected me, has been my home, and my roof, which has hitherto protected me, and hitherto only been a part of the good gift which the knights of fortune have entrusted to me with fearful care!

    My bread: With the pure and carefully considered intellect of myself I am not yet seeking it myself - though the assembled weighty and decisive message-volumes of my manuscripts would be just enough - and if the profit-seeking, shapeless world would give me the opportunity, I could stand up with a working consciousness - and not be merely unemployed in a free profession - as ...

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    WE ARE STILL HUMAN!

     

    The chessboard of life, forced into the prison of mortality, yet with a legitimate human conscience, forces the human weak conscience into the long and difficult trials of an innocent prisoner. The human heart, shackled by the shackles of spiritual affliction, is bound with a gallant and unwillingly hesitant will to the swamp of self-pity. in such a fateful situation, perhaps the only refuge for something is that which, with persistent and purposeful determination
    with a backbone of head held high, with a resolute consciousness: the all-embellishing willpower, and the safe easy credulous knowledge that the humane way of life is not given for any price, we often fall in the relentless cat-and-mouse struggle of life, but we rise again 

    but we rise up with spine uplifted, and, listening to the eternal human bells of our conscience, which shines like an eternal beacon of our own sincere and loyal conscience, even if we have to meet the yellow earth...

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    YOUR SENTIENT PHONENDOSCOPE-SELF

     

    Lilies: that was all your joy. You gathered every tiny trumpet-flower of last year's lily-ladies with your fragile swan-hands in the brown waterfalls of your chestnut hair, with the gentle touch of falling petals. I looked upon thee with a broken and weak soul, and thou, with thy armour-clad and valiant bearing, as with a selfless remedy, didst wish to heal the burning wounds of my restless heart!

    In gentle blessedness the tuft of chocolate on my haloed head, which thy harmony-loving body rested on the oak shoulders of my cliffs, rests in gentle bliss! Thou didst leave thy velvet and earthly heavenly smile upon me: for one eternal moment, and I could be the most balanced man in the world - but for a micro-moment of true all-filling - that thou didst listen with thy all-seeing phonendoscope ears to the lamentations of my morphing heart, hidden in secret half-way,

    The lamentations and the longings and the woes of the world! And it was only one ...

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    CONDEMNATION OF THE PERSONALITY

     

    We are but puppets of interests, hoping for the same profit or gain! The only moral voice of the soul that lurks silently in the secret tunnels of our personality, the voice that says: "Remain a man of human conscience", is quickly and immediately forgotten, like a sudden, apparent flush of shark's fins!

    - As if we were the only well-planned chess pieces of Damocles' decrees, doomed to mortality and numbered chess pieces of existence: pawns and sinning and weak scarlet criminals of this age that tests man and turns everything and everyone against him! - When we, with our positions of hoped-for career and rank, walk into all the donkey-ladder buildings of the big corporations that eat up all the money, and trample them underfoot with our involuntary and blameworthy conviction: those who have really tried to be useful to the labour market by producing profit! Today, our intellect still dreams deep in its Procrustean bed, because it can hard...

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    Sudden causes

     

    If suddenly things were to go so wrong that the oxygen supply to your calcified and diseased bones in the twilight blood tunnels stopped, what would you say to a world in a life-and-death struggle, fighting only each other, if you were to die suddenly? What would I say? - I would tell you that many things thought small and insignificant 

    In my earthly affairs I have made my blunders and mistakes with tons of scarlet sins, but I have tried as best I could in my soul and backbone to learn from them all! And, whatever my creative turn of mind, I have remained the herald and half-hearted pen-turner of this fateful age!

    I would admit that what the life and slap in the face of existence, condemned to mortality, intended and determined for me as a direction of decision and guidelines with a Páka-whistle, I alone committed and tolerated with obstinacy of will, only and exclusively myself, with incessant evil, or, if possible, with a cold head...

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    CAPTIVITY

     

    A cold and half-cold bird in a cage: our soul-body is imprisoned in the doomed bone-prison of our mortality since we came into the world! - We shall be more and more pressed by the all-knowing organic restlessness: every little bell-clang of our heartbeat shall whisper with its melody the patiently numbered and measured eternal messages of our days here on earth!

    As alien castaways of a single body, we will always be prisoners in a bone-museum until the lawful sand-periods of our existence are gone: are we only organic matter, bone and tactile and palpable bone-tissue? 

    It cannot be! Full of tiny moments of magic: Defining and perhaps all-deciding encounters that leave deep traces, blazing glimpses of fireflies and the romance of heaven beyond earth! There is something unique and unrepeatable in every creature: even in the thinking and reckoning man!

    My brain never shuts off, glowing with stress, boiling and burning like a volcanic...

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    WITH SINCERE CONFIDENCE TO THE WIFE

     


    It will surely happen: I will have browned, rock-hard potato skins and worn, drought-riddled biscuits for my daily and only meal! People will laugh with useless ruthlessness, trample me underfoot, and with no regard for humanity, with the product of their tongues, scornfully and gallantly brand me! My blessed wife will kiss my ever-thinking brain, and my hairy bushy hands, and I shall see through the mirrors of my soul how much 

    with tender merciful tact, and with more honourable grace, that her husband's lot is now hard, and instead of fighting complaints, and constant demands for money and reckoning, she will spread her two sanctified wing-arms with the harmonies of tranquillity, that I may rock to a soothing sleep on her mother's lap the ever-shy and skittering skull of my ever-shy and skittering skull!
    And then the world, what my fake shame and law shall inflict on me, my spouse's backbone of humanity and human standing ...

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    A DAY OF PHILOSOPHISING

     

    "Why do you complain, with your constant and gloomy pessimism, that the gift of life is untrue, that you are torn and crucified like a prisoner on a cross for twelve hours a day, that you do not have enough to earn your bread to pay the rent, and that you are tired of the struggle for existence, which is reborn as a Promethean organ? - all is in vain, and nowadays it's only a dream and a lamentation, and yet you're always dreaming, chasing after unrealizable dreams and chasing after failed fortune: your deluded visions are like those of a naive child who is obsessed and determined to do everything!"

    Hurt me not, and let no man wield over my head the sword of Damocles with his arbitrary judgments! With little hope, I strove to save what was destined to be destroyed by the destructive time of the age! And if I, for the heaven-feeling on earth, Desire love, it can only be Because Cupid, and Cupid's arrow, In secret conspiracy, Deliberate...

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    WRESTLING OF THE DAYS

     

    "Luck is inevitable when you are determined to climb the ladder successfully for your own sake!" - say the lucky ones who have long ago sold out to profit-hunting and profit-driven interests! Damn! - The dreary monotony of our days would be drowned in a single drop of water - if there were such a thing - by the calculating harassment and the selling of individual personality!

    Man grinds up his organism at an incessant rush: and if need be, if not, the strenuous drudgery is nowadays rather unprofitable, and brings little laurel! He who today steals, cheats, and conquers the stock-market and interest-markets of paper masses for profit, is but a victor without battle or struggle - in vain - for the soul-richness of the fine strings of reason - who can understand it with a whole and sincere heart?!

    The truly essential and important things are always invisible to the lenses of the eye, for only by searching hard and yet with sufficient patie...

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    MAY VISION

     

    The secret harbinger of summer May has sent intoxicating arrows of sunshine into the lap of the earth! All that was living and dead with phoenix-flowers sprouted and faded, renewed as Promethean bodies on the lush surface of the brown earth! The snow hyacinth that looks like heaven Is the blessed and faithful brother of the tinkling-hated lily of the valley!

    The halo-light fell like Eden-nectar curtains of showers, and lured from the tanned and fertile breast of earth The hidden Pandoran hopeful seeds of hope of existence! As if the rainbow-boating chalices of the hydrangeas had offered the shelter of parasols above the twilight-glories of the tulips, and Mother's Day the most blessed cure for wounds of the soul, its sacred flower of ever-faithful solace: the angelic lily of the valley, innocent in its defencelessness, and ever unbreakable in its fragility, with the words of Truth-telling!

    Its heavenly bell-petals, sacredly clinging to little...

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    CALVARY

     

    How alone I was, and alone in the solitude of my prison of prodigality, in the full responsibility of my life's creation, in the single-minded determination of my purpose! On the small and independent island of walls of my home, a safe haven, I lived out my days, carving for hours the words of meaningful lines, the sounds that only within me were ever resounding, and the messages of the lines, doomed to transience, yet thought-provoking!

    In the star-end of my inner microcosm's hall, A dear face's loving longing of my eyes' pearls A sudden waterfall of fierce pearls on my chubby face! And through the sometimes untrue hellish torture of life I tried to go through with a clattering stumbling, yet with an uplifted will, and to do the trying and calculating tasks of my existence!

    And for once, my rabbit-hearted conscience, which had been constantly in terror and on the battlefield of self-pity and self-doubt, could be reassured as a un...

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    ATTEMPT AT COMPASSION

     

    Who will ever be whom with unconditional loyalty I dare to let in through the secret gates of my heart in the heartfelt humility of trust? Who will be the fortunate chosen One who, with all-forgiving X-ray eyes, Can search me in search of the Truth, my most inmost child-self: Who weeps, whines, and in everlasting terror Seeks for evermore brooding excuses, For he is more interested in the paradisiacal state of peace, And in the firmly resolved compromise, Than in the fierce war, thought futile futility!

    I would not have wished, who could believe me, to have been a hereditary bureaucrat, day after day, with this great cog-wheel world, and to have served my brave manhood with the aimlessness of Caracane! I would have liked no merit badges, no badges of honour, all the fuss for me seemed a vain effort! - Yet was it the hardest thing to remain a humane man on the earth's wheel, who was not tempted by the treachery of a corruptible personality!

    - ...

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    TO HOPE

     

    At the feasting frenzy of rich tables - I confess frankly - I am terrified, and I am constantly terrified! I wonder if there will be any more intimate and idyllic moments of family and soul-warming togetherness, and any remaining minutes treasuring the morals of my past, when I am constantly wondering, ruminating, and clacking night and day in my worn-out and worn-out brain, how will I pay the bills, the bills, the bills of my existence, in the numbered days of my mortal life, when the productive solitude is doomed to endure? !

    I have always been attracted by the stubborn and backbone of lion-hearted men: if, broken in labour, they have laid their well-earned breadwinner's wages at the mercy of their moral Himalayan conscience, and their substantial truths at the mercy of their word! Every day, as a wise master who knows which path to tread, With self-righteous discourses that begin life, Hope encourages me!

    I would like everyone to leave me ...

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    MAKE YOU THINK

     

    The dying minutes of years, like dutiful old men, counseling man, and like compasses, their wise and tangible directions forcing the labyrinths of the fertile brain to ponder! Man, as a traveller who longs to forget, and to reckon with all that has happened, carries on through an existence the mistaken decisions of his past! Some strange stranger we once comforted, and with the healing balm of our kisses tried to heal, perhaps forever, the pain of all-remembering thorns in his soul!

    And we forgot, perhaps for eternity and for a certain time - because we erased from our memory, as a cleansing stream of the Creator, those unforgettable and long-ago figures of character whom we respected and supported in their moral backbone! Which safe or bank of thought can preserve the rich and unforgettable treasures of memory? The characteristic moments of the present surround us, and are multiplied by the indelibility of the past!

    And in vain! If we let the me...

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    LAST DAY

     

    When the day will come when mortality will be cut like a phalanx, when my strength as a walker will have waned and my biological clock, which is in the prison of my body, will have struck its last and fatal minutes of life, when every word we say to each other with due honest truth will have been necessary, to be whispered with barely trembling lips, for our potted lips are numb with anguish, and as I bid my last and irreversible farewell to my loved ones in my last life, I dare to say this as a confessional account: Am I really afraid of the world beyond? 

    Yet will the healing angelic hands of my blessed and selflessly caring wife give me the final peace and balance of soul-harmony? As one who is consciously aware that he has not yet finished his remaining work of earthly creation and nascent creation, I will suffer - with the pangs of unforgivable remorse - and suffer that in the full and unified realization of the human completed meaning of being, ...

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    A REFLECTION ON AGE

     

    I would like to look at this age with open eyes, with careful scrutiny and with the tools of diligence! To see - with impunity, like a camphor-air, searching and rummaging through the pages of individual human characters - what chemical substances combined to influence a human character to behave as it should, or to tolerate little trace of it?

    I would but seek - under every stone meticulously - I would but gaze, that halo and glowing halo, that precious quartzoma eye looks upon me as the most precious unpolished gem of precious metals: the rock-hard diamond! 

    And man's true worth of being would be his human person, and not his interest to be bought, and the thoughtful intelligence that shines there unnoticed on the library-shelves of the spirit! In this insane and inhuman age, as loyal subjects of chess pieces, some individuals, endowed with greater and all-powerful power, play games of profit and gain with human characters that can be ...

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    RECONING

     

    If your biological members have already become skeletons, and your existence has faded away like a mortal frivolity of dust, please stop for one lasting moment, the all-defining moment, and ponder the philosophical questions that sum up your existence: Have you succeeded in retaining in yourself the loyal responsibility inherited from your parents, and the sustaining Gerincessity that lends you the strength to be a humane man, and not a nodding John, or, if desperate circumstances so require, a jerking up and down at will, according to interest and influence, a Janji? 

    Have you kept what your honesty, incapable of lying, and always seeking only the truth, has made you say? That you should always consider carefully and carefully your life-changing and fateful decisions? And that you should always follow the combined commands of your heart and your mind in deciding the difficult and complex situation, and if you have already devoted your precious head t...

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    Ars poetica

     

    I am an experimenter! I write down the prolific and reborn Promethean lines of my thoughts in sentences, or even stanzas of verse, as a sign of witnessing reckonings: man should not merely entertain himself in relaxation, but should reflect on the eternal guidelines and messages of the works of authors!

    I am a man! So my responsibility is greater than that of those who, with the rhythmic vascular system of the world, do not vibrate or think at all! Responsibility blessed with Rock-Hope: Humanity of Conscience, that you are responsible because you are an actively creative particle of dust in the world is more important than any preconceived compass aim!

    I complain a lot! I look with self-pitying half-hearted conviction at how to come to a peace agreement with a profit-interested century that tramples on human beings as individual individuals? I know well: what would be possible with selfless acceptance and a helpful understanding of the possibilit...

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    FAITHFUL WAITING

     

    Faithfully waiting for the sustenance of my only reliable and hitherto never failing existence, my beating heart, which toils day and night in ceaseless toil, is only a clickety-clack. It is waiting for the inevitable and all-determining, characteristic and eternal meeting, which, with patient half-ignorance, is still rather far away, but which, in the cogwheel-presence of the universe, is drawing nearer! 

    When the star of hope, shining and fragile in the two halos of love, with the confidence of understanding and the fragile expression of love, under the shelter of the sustaining forehead, reveals - concealing nothing - and with a firm vow of love: I need you, as long as I can hold out as an unavoidable sacrificial prisoner in the prison-catacombs of my body, that as long as I can allow the unity of the universe as one 
    as one power, that all our phonendoscopic sensibility and heartbeat's fused and whispering soul-bells of one heartbe...

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    RUSHING THROUGH THE DAYS

     


    The days alternate like autumn with winter, or the darkness of night with the serene mornings, everything turns and moves, keeping the fleeting minutes of infinite time in a sane and circular motion, and so quickly the month of January, the month of foggy ice-armour, bitter in itself, flies before our eyes, with its nightmarish and visionary mystery, a little sneaking in magic that calls to itself the ghosts, wandering shadows and curious goblins, we feel it too, if not in the depths of our ever-young souls, but in the supporting columns of the skeleton of the organism: in the system of our bones, that they can certainly and certainly well sense and feel the outbreaks and icy retreats of the weather. 

    But perhaps, if we keep in our souls a tiny candle-light: the eternal candle of Humanity and Love, which, as a protective torch, seeks to help all who are in need, and hopes we may be on the way to the real truth: we must accept with understandin...

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    Soul spaces

     

    From my eyes there flowed only the coagulated eyeballs of honest incredulity; chains of true pearls were lined up under my baggy eyes like clumps of onion-clumps! In feverish, timeless grayness, my rebellious finger-tips grope ever after instinct-secrets! With my senile self long since pregnant, I have regrown my outcast, my Golgotha-maiden! I think of only one thing: where and how could I have begun anew with my soul-mate another, more substantial, and perhaps wiser life?!

    In my being there still ticks the timeless, proud beating of the Universe in my ever more agitated, wicked time-bomb beats; in my metaphors the eternal, immortal compliments of love and all-powerful romances still reach me! Outside, stunted Minotaurs flock, hoping for mimic-majestic riches, and, looking into the invisibility of their curved mirrors, curiously peer at the compromising world!

    The mature soul, thought lost, wanders into prehistoric massive-syrupy solitude to find...

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    The chess player


      
    Exotic glances draw you into their spell. Teasing, cuddling, supple, flirtatious breasts lean out of a festive cleavage at will, calling mainly for Alpha males: they grant the already hard-to-get permission for seduction operations.

    Hands no longer grope childishly, pensively, hesitantly - but the staring, bulging eyes actually strip away the exotic glare. Amorous flirtation begins in quickened rhythms, culminating in closed-circuit cat-and-mouse battles. Open, insidious smiles keep you on a leash or off a leash: no one knows who is keeping whom on a leash? - He plays only self-discreetly, curiously portraying and looking before him, as if petty secrets had a life of their own.

    When hesitant calculation sparkles on each other, insinuating pseudo-pleasures into themselves, the newest luring words of the All-enticing All-ness rise up on the cellar-lady of their primeval instincts. A single gesture can be worth a thousand betrayals, when ...

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    Donkey generations


      
    This world no longer exists and is no longer being created in the way that the working man or the exiled outcast might expect it to be. There are, of course, enlightened nouveau riche and strumpet-barons, canary-peasants in cages - but the warm security of employment can no longer permeate the whole.

    The young teenagers are no longer nesters either - but integral participants in bacchanalia of binge-drinking, drunken bacchanalia. Like a fearsome, raucous herd, the enduring congregations of wolf-eyed brutes and louts stampede through the ruins of Nineveh's deserted cities like an idiotic mob.

    Tomorrow is not exactly an idyllic, dreamy scene of luxury. Common sense and creative, performance-mindedness wither away, perhaps for nothing!

    Corrupters and corrupted alike are the alienated and the willful mouth-breathers, from whom the defenceless child is terrified, from whom culture trembles. The idyll, the romance, if there was...

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    Down position


     
    All that's left is to avoid tomorrow. The problem-root of troubles, like busy moles, chewing away at the path of both success and further meritorious validation. Can there no longer be in the heart of man a single, secluded, sacred refuge or nook where he can bravely or deservedly hide for a while?!

    We have become naked, like the aimless dead with their beards in the prison of the dissecting table, or in the chains of interrogation lights. Caring, helping hands, it is feared, could all be called in vain in great troubles. A questioning company of orphans would call Witnesses, judges, apostates,- But all already feel, and know, As targets of the Future's crosshairs, All tried, bumpy roads back to infinity.

    Into cries, or unshareable pains hung on the walls of silent silences - there is no longer any reason to be bitter. Careful footprints they would have planted in the loops of hesitant Time, but between Will and Will it was easy to b...

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    THE RECORD OF LIVES

     

    In the faces of men you search for the impossible: the apocryphal necrology of unfulfilled dreams, desires and emotions, the tiny requiems of lives, which in a single glance, in a stunned realization, even flicker and reveal themselves! You cannot be free in your emotions, in your thoughts, for if you follow in the footsteps of snarling men, you yourself become an animal: And where is the universal pledge of the all-forgetting and liberating laughter nowadays? 

    Canst thou know thyself, if thou tell on another, or betray? You live your Existence by a recipe, - but the answers, the recurring questions, you cannot guess yourself! - You greet the drooling, chewing kittens of cockroaches who don't appreciate you with kisses on the hand, stolen from novels and the ivory towers of fiction, who feel alone and at ease in the fashionable boutiques of the malls, and Poetry, Poetry,

    as an ars poetica, a state of being, or a vocation-consciousness, i...

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    I THINK OF YOUR FACE


    (To V.K. with love)

    A well-packed hiking bag and a pair of skirt pants. - That's what I thought of you when I searched through memories and rediscovered you in unbreakable infinity: the eternal minute-stop when you waited alone on the long-distance bus platform to the Archbishop's Square, in the cathlan of heat-clusters, hoping someone would pick you up 

    and forgive you the weight of your burden! In the submissive and fragile lines of your swan shoulders I discovered not only you again, but also the shards of your disarming allness in your eye-sights! - And then thy valiant name, and then, on thy flushed rosy cheeks, to kiss thy rosebuds. 

    Thy unwearied gaze, forgiving all, glid'd on my face's weary trenches! I pitied thee much, and pity'd the shower of thy truthful tears; - in our ancient ordeal, when fancy youth had mock'd thy spine-keeping, - how often I have wonder'd how I might comfort thee with a majes...

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    PATHETIC CRY

     

    What a pitiful folly, the enriching fad of youth! As a student I clung to the inexhaustible Parnassus towers of knowledge, By the budding and forgiving May suns of May: to be there, with the burgeoning responsibility of mature youth, in the shelters of the bench-rows, of the slyly murdering cathedrals, where heated lovers taste the forbidden and considered emotions between them, where the shadow that longs to haunt hides under the bench, and the smouldering gaze welcomes the favours of the dumbfounded 

    And how good would it be if the crowns of the grounded trees were just then dropping their golden fruit! And long-buried in the tables of my fair beloved's buried plum-dark fists, Spoon and bread would live, trusting, and the rushing time would be stopped by love-fulfillment flirting with all!

    - The hair of brown-straw-flame would be crowned with the proud one-eyed knife-ray! Hair! And now the years, flying on, Suddenly speed from us like ...

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    FAITHFUL SERVE WAY


    (With love to teacher V.K.)

    I have been your slave and your faithful slave for a long time, now you shall have my rightful and afflicted orphanhood: With the hellish hordes of days behind me, And with their fierce demons I fought alone, For I must, and the law within me demanded: the macabre Heart! I have kept thee - and thou knowest well - that I have stood by thee, always! 

    The romance of my kisses was often but a budding kiss on thy fairy-face's pond, Chased with unrelenting sincerity by the hopeless knowledge That I was lost to thee for ever, and my loneliness was sucked in at one stroke By cosmos-wandering Nothing, when thou didst with thy haughty hubris tell Thee that thy heart's beating eternal constellation Was another realm. Strangler

    with my jealousy I did not wake you: I let you go in contented consciousness, for I wanted to know with every nerve cell and trust that the verdict of responsible judgment could only come from...

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    REQUEST FOR QUESTIONS 


    (With love to V.R.)

    Thirty-one? Is it true you're sooner gone than ever! Did you think so? In many a ordeal with tearful dioptre Thou didst put the gauntlet down, but always with head held high, never giving up, Thou didst accept the challenge! What is the matter with you?! For so long have they been unable to reach you through the earth-embracing threads of the wide-contoured ether! Does it exist in the 21st century?

    There is no bargain nor common understanding in the world of Tomorrow: else any one shall crush and torment me! I wonder if all you ever heard was the sincere, truthful, true word: "We'll look for each other after university!" - Your hopeful words still echo in my head. "You'll see!" - I was forced to close my eyes and keep our shared memories shining with an unbroken halo beneath the surface: 

    I gave thee on all the more illustrious occasions, with everlasting good wishes - while thou knew'...

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    IN 1983

     

    It was in this year that old T.N. The unemployed, the eternal beauty of Münchhausen, the romantic suitor and vulnerable newborn troubadour, saw the light of day. he was not fed fertile breast milk and almost fell asleep in his cot, clinging greedily to his love self. he dreamed of eternal life! 

    Mum went into labour for four hours haunted by Tomorrow, soon after George Orwell wrote 1984, and Christmas was the focus of much attention in Bögöte Street! - Two more years and he thought his wife would give birth to her own edible babble! And Reagan announced his Star Wars plan, while Mrs Thatcher was off to Budapest! 

    1983: A new day, and perhaps a new chance for someone of a brighter future where all the proud dreams of man's dreams will come true. Legendary in the eighties: we all hoped and dared to believe that in the clattering war of typewriters we could only be witnesses and victims, then we were transcended 

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    LUCKY BASTARD

     

    "You're a lucky bastard, my friend!", I was told afterwards, humiliations, blue-purple wounds, life-slaps, soul-vulnerabilities: a broken and broken youth, a terror network of the soul, a car accident convalescence! - Not even this is cheap, a real fortune and a good refuge for the humane-hearted! Let's add that this was the experience of a chubby teddy bear, a fat buffoon made of vulnerability, who knew nothing but to compliment and romanticize in his own peculiar and cavalier way! 

    Showering crocodile shells from himself, until the ugly duckling, the musk-animal of life, crumbles like a porcelain elephant: the living, desperate insecurity himself, which was worthy of comfort and cuddling! I have found the compliments in the star-gazes of ladies, and may the One and indivisible Whole remain: in the moments of love's metamorphosis fulfilled, the 

    And the round-finished biology: the angel winking at us with her litt...

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    TEMPTERS

     

    You could really understand!
    I can hardly answer otherwise with unfinished sentences even before love. Moral order reigns in the jungle of my soul, And the cosmic compass of constellations my senses modestly observe! From a million nervous orbits: Of remorse, remorse, and self-pity, The wounded heart is loosed, that crocodile-sized

    Tears ready to embrace - for the power of sincere consolation! I sat beside thee in the university pews: in the fatal crossroads of reason's fatal golgotha, and in that hallowed and eternal moment I understood: the rose of thy frail heart beams to me its sincere help, its consolation and emotion! It was a mystical superstition. There was silence in your words: deep and resolute wisdom! 

    If for no other reason, thou couldst at least understand! - I have no child yet! It is not fear and lack of responsibility that repels me, but rather the ancient despairing consciousness: lacking in self-confidence, I co...

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    DON QUIXOTE - OWNERSHIP

     

    All around us, blind Babel-clutter, linguistic bickering, the XXI century, ant-traffic, unemployment and abandoned Theiresias-hope, it is not too late to forget everything, to go to the death for our true Truth, with a new creed, with a new attitude! 

    On the retained balance of our wavering self-confidence, We have survived the wraths of the spiteful, and the loves of Cassandra, And now should rest in harmony: Who in his mother's hug of refuge, Who in an equal hand of hope, which calls me dear, clings, and in the life-long punishment of compliments, I cannot be wholly reconciled to myself: I spend all my time in a cultic dump, I can only hope that above, where angels sing soothing telepathy melodies

    In pearls of stars, Someone smiles back at me, And watches, guarding my restless dreams. - And among all the indecipherable Delilah glances, among all the flirtatious glances that twist my head, I do not know myself, and I do not understand w...

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    VICTIMS OF WORK

     

    It's getting further and further away from the ground of reality...
    I am aware of my limits and my presence of mind! Sooner I'll become a pessimist, and I'll have to spend more time in front of locked doors! - Nothing is as valuable as it used to be: cheating is the new fashion, the misuse of kisses! - Objects that I have treasured up with a thought I cherish; for long I was a child and vulnerable, and slept nightmares till dawn! - I would have liked to colonize an editorial office with the manuscripts of my thoughts!

    And I still keep repeating the firm lines of stubborn stubbornness, which are immortalized in immortality, "just in case" - sooner or later -, because the last breath of our life has long been passed on to our descendants by DNA microbiology - that would be fine! - But where will it be and can it be

    the marketplace of ideas that once had better days: the alphabetical pool of compasses, messages and apocr...

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    THE CROSS OF MY SLIPS

     

    My stumbling blocks are barely steady, but they stumble on and on, and my conscience is in the end a wreck! - Something I have lost - which, perhaps, was never really mine, Yet with crystal-beads scattered in the trenches of my eyes I have endured and sympathized! Like secret compliments in sweet and flattering words, I poured with hopeless romance my proud and

    of whom I always foolishly thought: I must be the only one, and my heart, seeing that her mischievous and eager kisses were too much for another, in modesty broke in pieces! In a heaven of faces I would have sought and found Honesty's allies, And at last I myself got a candy and a coke peach For my cobbled isle of cobbled bum! 

    - Oh, but I would have liked an eternal and sure support: a refuge for the homeless soul in hiding: the beautifully shining, mischievous pools of eyes, to find comfort and self-confidence in the laughing meteor-eyes, so that I would not have been shocked my...

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    FLYING DEATH

     

    Why are the answers to great tragedies, the forced answers to fateful decisions, the moral norms, the non-negotiable systems of rules, imposed on us?! Do we carry heavy burdens, rocks, shackling burdens, and even we ourselves do not really understand and know that as a Sisyphus of non-negotiable Courage, we reach the mountain of goals? 

    The cracked groans of tears' pain Shiver in ghosts' pursuing eyes, And we ourselves may be but stumbling roots, Pushed and dragged by the vile mud-ground Towards deeper and deeper whirlpools! And the rest, like armies of ravenous fleas, like a starving chaos of blood-sucking leeches, at the unconditional doom-orders of envy and jealousy: they stone, they trample, and kill him who builds more successfully 

    nowadays, brick by brick, his well-established life: Life, in vain, will not bargain with man, Our little blunders, our grey daily transgressions, are well laughed at from afar! - We must rise d...

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    KICKING FROM THE MUD

     

    See in the air-space it will come, it will appear, It will come before the romance of your kiss; The tear-streams of your eyes will dry again your happiness, And the intoxicating present will plant its sigh through the gates of your heart! Thy bones flirtatiously embrace the fragments of All! As if thou wert plundering heaven's Eden-treasures, and like a thief's careful thief, and blasphemous murderous words 

    Poisonous glances up and down thy Adam's apple-tube rush; Thou wilt be vulnerable till the day of thy all-knowing death, For memory is long since robbed from thee by thy unscrupulous cortex and Time! - Thy first pains will be followed by stinging thorns, and so on, yet daily with Sisyphus' heel Thou wilt embody the Will: Thou shouldst act and do thy eternal work! 

    Shall the crematorium-face that winked at me from my reflection wink at me! How long have I used my cracked crystal for shaving, when I may have lost myse...

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    GROTESCQUE-DREAM

     

    The libraries of reason have long since been infected with the idea that Work is useless! It would save even the lost province, and many, if they can, will save for retirement! Man, lying prostrate, swears vengeance on his own insatiability, and curses like obscene men on deaf indifference! He suffers twelve hours a day in daily torment, if he had any -

    But this can hardly be, for only the higher powers can understand the word-scorn, and by offering the semblance of opportunity, man lives without a monthly fix or yields to the temptation of sin! - Rarely have I had the privilege of meeting wise men! A man's hesitant decision depends on himself alone! Out of the mire of time, unanswered questions multiply and rise again! 

    We exist in the age: we imbibe in it the memories of our sorrow, and must daily wrestle with the proud and obstinate demons of our self-pity: for it is right and true - it is the necessity of necessity that holds us resp...

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    REWIND

     

    As a child, almost everything was so easy: toy cars trapped in sandpits, beaming with joy. And if I stumbled in my bare feet, my dear mother, with a forgiving look, helped me up: every day had its own meaning and purpose! 
    Among the shrieks of light-hearted clowns I felt it, 

    I was once more a full man! - I often woke up after the birth of a newborn baby: I had wandered in compassion and compassion, in dreams, and in reality I was rooted in a half-weakness! 

    He who still breathes and lives in the typing of his private life Will yet reach the Atlantis shores of rest and replenishment: after me still creeps, creeps, the envy of cunning eyes Hunts me, and ancient knowledge, where jealousy rears its head, There is no stone left on the ruins of understanding!

    The Persecution haunts me and pursues me! The sneaking knowledge that I am a fleeing beast to be hunted, because foolish laws allow it! And only the echoing voice ...

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    LOOKING BEHIND THE SCENES

     

    Why are you threatening unemployment? - I'm afraid of poverty too! Why must you scare my prodigal heart with misery? - I was afraid of opportunity! Why do you make the mice drink the music of the showers, you little brat? - I have borne the self-pity of great souls as long as I have been: I should be content, and not unhappy in error, as others think and suppose! 

    It is easy to laugh at other men's blunders, when you laugh at your own! The millstones of trouble and earthly things that bind men together cannot be forgotten! Yet it is facing our daily trials with honesty that shows: As a man, blood thyself, and never let thy cheap temptations give thee up in thy frivolity!

    - Look at thy own face: orphaned childish eyes gaze on thee, From the imprisonment of crystal vaults opposite. How is it possible that still the proud and unruly shadows of childhood traumas come back to haunt you? How is this possible, if we look at the earthly copi...

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    PERSISTENT RISK

     

    As the justly blind who sees before him the goal, the opportunity, the human star face That would pledge his life to him, and yet he does not ask, cannot keep, the familiar gestures and the sign language searching in faces: he stops and his conscience is flooded with unexpected despair, murderous terror! So have I been myself! In the scornful scrutiny of exam-eyes, which in the peace of my home hath often smitten me, your envious looks, torn from me

    And in the jealous scrutiny of your jealous scrutiny, I might have found the path to the golden gates of my heart - My soul was on the field of idyllic captivity! Alas! - But in the depths of thy heart the treasury was crumbling - I was slowly and imperceptibly reduced to a nobody among a multitude of other-willed, miserly men - it mattered not - but I could not find the glitter wasted for me in the economy of thine eyes! 

    And while in thee rose a new Atlantis-continent of immortal sentiment - wh...

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    LOCATE  

                                  

    It would be nice to settle down slowly: in some secret present, in an intimate handshake, in the protection of unconscious Morse codes, in the crossfire of disarming glances! Some secret atmosphere - a place where we can be at home, and where we don't meet as enemies, but as friends! And where the insecurities of existence can be easily shed! 

    In a crowded press, we do not push each other hesitantly and intrusively, but in our answers, in our common spiritual secrets. The two ancient secrets of our trust: the repeated blunders of our actions are zealously guarded by the speeding Time, and every minute and look, the eloquent gestures of our actions dance, softly chanting promises: "I will be with you!" - And all are suspicious who with steadfast stubbornness cherish The Past: as the heritage of a sinner, and cannot flee, for there is no...

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    SOUL-CATCHING

     

     

    If thou shalt be tried and tested, why fear? Thou hast not chased sorrow, self-pity, idyllic compliments, but hast breathed according to the law of completeness! - The broken loneliness of the heart seems to be fulfilled, if the doubt grows in our bodies, whether I have done all things well, and have done my deeds and laws, and as 

    understand more and more, that not with a broken heart But with a fused immortal emotion serve the shackled secrets of eyes! - Perhaps it's only a clear and ancient struggle For the final fulfilment found, for the peace that we have felt In each other's heartbeats: In the restless and restless soul-clicks Long-forgotten desire circles in circular rhythm More and more majestically: Common family ties, eyes-pleasings, self-pity 

    O, but could I have been happy once, Had we found together, with affectionate will, A remedy for the pessimistic storm? - Words I sought, confessions, words of ...

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    BREATHING ON THE OUTSIDE

     

    The vulnerable soul guards the silence of its solitude! On the road, on the way, the foot drags and carries the burden of trials within itself! And at last the will can only conquer The world's impromptu tribunal! The way-route that tries man, and the home-retreat, are bound together; man shudders when he sees a new goal and task, and his conscience falters at the sight of surprise success! 

    A man's place can only be right if his word is answered by sincerity! In your soul the incomprehensible and unfinished paths wind more and more confusedly: you set out on them again, when everything has become uncertain and unknowable and you cannot find your place - you crawl forward hesitantly and half-cowardly on the beaten paths: you cannot yet see the end of your journey, but it is drawing nearer and nearer - so you spy it curiously yourself! 

    Wherever the encouraging word calls, Caring, whispering messengers are sent to each other, To ...

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    FORBIDDEN ADMISSION

     

    At such a time I think, foolishly and foolishly, with compassionate remorse, If I could look up in the all-embracing sky A tiny, luminous comet with my heart's infinite love I would shower, And like the selfish man who cares only for his own happiness and not for the happiness of others, As a caring person, I would find the pure, strong radiance of your photograph In the rain of tears of the heavens! - No matter if thou didst imagine I lied, And in the complimentary channels of my lips, As conquering colonial empire, aimed at thy heart's beating!

    To me every fleeting minute was a gift, A priceless, exalted sacrifice: When once a stranger I wandered in the rickety, gaping voids Of university rows, you gave me a selfless angel's hand, With humility in countless variants I gave you my life! - I have been ashamed of many things before myself. I have drifted too far from the real truth, 

    but to the bewitching, bombarding rays of eyes,...

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    ON EMINANCE-MAN

     


    I'm barely twenty. A tender, eggshell
    I was a lonely adolescent, living on my own
    When I first heard the sound of the first
    of the organ for a whole semester! Ó,
    how often have I trembled and shuddered when
    on his resounding hammer-voice the

    the eminence of literature, the prestigious old wizards
    The knowledge-bearing and knowledge-transmitting Knight! - none
    No other voice has ever sounded so in my memory's blotches
    The voice of a man who has never been a part of me
    unquestioning, as in a noble rock
    fine thin hairs!

    There I was bewitched and in love for ever
    In the ancient and pensive moments of his seminary! All
    With all its stately humanity, the human mind is an unknown
    with the human mind unknown to the human mind unknown
    the unknown colonies of the unknown, and with lightness of spirit
    enchanted and conquered.

    ...

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    WHAT'S LEFT?

     

    From the back I face the concrete wall, With every possibility and will: While inside I'm a trembling orphan, a vulnerable wound! The hysterical Word of hysteria was thus preached by meddlesome, macabre buckaroos: their unquestioning bickering was manifested in a thousand sputtering forms! - Where have I come from to the unknown and uncertain depths of abysses? 

    Here is the supreme question, Why? Was it because I, a buffoon who fails all, Whispered romance in hesitant, childish lines To ears waiting for love, And to the broken voices of my soul With a few kiss-bombs arose a flower-blade, a lily-eyed blossom! 

    I have learned to appreciate that the pearl shower of bullets may be pure in its fragility, innocent in its nobility! - That made me such a nobody, such a molasses, such a man, such a man of will, such a man of action, such a man of no notice, such a man of no importance, like a fat snail that carries his home-slumber on his ba...

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    FOR MY MOTHER

    I see my mother. Her twenty-year-old face.
    She is not threatened by the dangerous tear of a furrow,
    Twelve hours she has taken,
    and her lips rather closed and sealed,
    She never meant to complain!

    His straight sword-flower's body,
    like a bow, straightened in a straight line.
    In his crown of hair the autumn colours
    The dye of the hair!

    To her lion-like willfulness
    The years have made great sacrifices.
    He was always vulnerable,
    Though on the edge of ruthless worlds
    He'd rather walk with his pallos-hat raised,
    And then tenderness may be forgiven
    For sins forgiven.

    No man, no barrier carved in rock
    ...nor in any rock...
    Passes the dawns uncertain,
    ...in the wounded twilight of the uncertain dawn,
    and with unbreak'd cheerfulness ever stood,
    and with two fists, with iron will, measured
    with the uncertain future,
    ...

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    INVIOLABLE PROHIBITION

     

    I gently unfurl the wings of my handkerchief: I take care of the vulnerability of your fingers! Your outstretched swan-hand's valley-menace beckons me. It bends towards me in a subtle curve, silent, on a continent of fragrant paper. The Nessus-pain of thy tears when they gushed, heedless of ominous curses with fulfilled legends, I quickly gave up all the fractional-stellar drops to the ray of thy omnipotent eyes. In the nectar of thy kisses thou didst cherish thy all! - I have learnt by thee to cherish silence, To wait for more opportune moments, To feel the piercing eternity of thy gaze, The treasure-treasure-treasure of thy heart Beneath thy fertile ribs! 

    On the oak beams of my shoulders thy lily-head yet trembled: With smiles of heart-happy smiles-I have not yet colonized thy heart! I was always a welcome guest, I kissed your princess's crotch always with humility - in my vast imagination, of course! I have never been a brave and brave fel...

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    FOR YOUNG-OLD MAN

     

    Ridiculous vagabond or trite confessor, Pathetic nobody of cheaply smuggled and secretly stolen flies! What are you waiting for? You should earn money for your musings, your thinking skulls, floating in the soup of the intellect of well-to-do companies! Are you waiting for your caring and cherishing grandmother to stand by your side and scrape out your hard-earned chestnuts? It's a give-and-take moment! Never forget! There are no humane people here - only a few at most - 

    no selfless helping, healing eyes, humble helping hands! Here there can only be what is left over from trade and the laws of free market movements as a remnant: Zac from the coffee puffs, or what is left over from the mouths of greedy big fish and piranhas as a hook - because it is no longer needed as surplus and falls out! What thou hast scraped for thyself with sweaty hands, by twelve hours' labour, thou hast 

    you can take! And the fair division of mine and t...

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    DERAILED THOUGHT

     

    Because the past always comes back to haunt us from many years...
    I haven't forgotten my June exam, as a little college student in mortal fear of the ordeal we awaited! There I sat, eyes wide, before a firing squad of examiners: and my ton-heavy heart raged, raged like a sweating smart-ass - how could I be such a sucker as to miss the point before me? Just in front of my nose?

    Behind me in Time: wars, petty rivalries, fires blaze for unbridled right ass-ladder-ranks, my wounded soul I have long since shut up! - I am not admitted by the widening world, and the lady's heart, in love's ardour, to whose romance and compliments I have unselfishly sacrificed! I knew long ago: my life was a mistake, because I wished to slip into the ivory of culture! 

    Quietly, my soul is a virtuous one, even if my physique seems boyish and helpless! I understood: I had to give up happiness, that I might have an earthly star-Deity, the honest spee...

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    SOMETHING IS STILL TO COME!

     

    Objects often call to me: the bunk-bed which my father chose with careful stubbornness: "This will do just fine for him", and the battered, battered, worn-out veteran's table: the bugs of time have stained it with shame! How dare I believe in the world-changing promises of smiles in the face of an unconscious child-glow!

    The repetitive Sisyphus-rope-walk of miseries, I feel, is yet to come! Now and then the feeling arises - but only secretly - in the rattling labyrinths of my heart: it was better to be an innocent child, who dared with a rattling, macabre obstinacy to believe the judging wiles of adults, and the brain-skulls, the empty-headed gorillas, too, willingly became friends. They have renounced the vendettas of lectures! 

    I wake daily with the haunting, prodigal fallacies of my past; buried in pessimistic superstitions like a camp of pathological phobics! I look out on my warring ridges in order: in the valley-cliffs me...

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    SERENADE ROMANCE

     

    Sometimes I'd mount a horse on the back of a rattling-boned Rozinante - fearing they'd still carry me - and give the many honey-talking serenades of good wishes and romantic endearments lost in the dark-cloaked night where it would be just me and my darling filling the universe! Moira and Ananque dictated arbitrarily the divine command, and all hope that ever had been in me as a possibility of hope was shattered and destroyed! I could have been Don Quixote out of a ladies' fair hope, the only lasting 

    for a single glance of the wing-hoofs of their windows daily, and the only reward he may inherit: the hearty oath of noble and faithful glances, the gratitude of his compliments! And the rage of throne-stealing Adonis would never threaten with unheard-of confidence, Nor the haughty pride of beasts! - The heart of woman is that which daily needs conquest, unselfish devotion, and responsibility 

    nor need I leap the harnessed-guar...

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    A TEMPTING AFTERNOON

     

    Who remembers that bright day? Maybe not even myself! - From the subconscious primordial sea of my brain, coral islands guard fulfilled events! Some questions, alas, I cannot answer! - The landscape was in a summer stupor, May, a lilac-voiced afternoon, a volcano-kissed red-pink face. In the crossfire of forgivable glances, my heart with unselfishness complimented and confessed, drew, and urged by the universal openness to tell all things openly! 

    Later, in the college, a choir of angels sounded an alarm, a shrieking cry of supplication! My stubborn self-pity locked in a closet, I shouted loving admonitions to the eternity that had happened, in the almighty moment; the Miracle was finally born! - I stood in the cover of marble rivers of ganges: my shadow hid like a faithful friend, lying flat with me. I saw a fairy like a heaven walking the ladder of science. 

    Proud-happy maiden, who shrieked, jested, and envied, Her blush-basket of coi...

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    EARTH-HEARTS, HUMAN-STARS

     

    Silent still, silent again is the world at large: No rose-dawn shall comfort the dead, As the morning that wakes our dreams, when I wake! I listen to the dawn-whistle of bouncing car-seats all day long - In vain do the dull thinkers curse and curse one another 

    I would gently whisper my love and confession in the tantalizing tunnels of your ears, forever with you! They are still comatose in the lamp-light. In the open palms of the nesting valleys, the slumbering village yawns mightily! In the hunting lodge of Mátraszentimre, one saw a nimble deer-eyed angel nimbly dancing his fluttering heartbeats! 

    I should have loved someone again: his swaying slumber in the shelter of dunnas, the measured firmness of his steps in the kitchen, and listened to his heart's delicate piano hammering gracefully over its tiny keys! Once the miracle has happened, perhaps it may come again! And helpless loser-miserable people need not perpetually c...

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    THE HARBINGER OF DEATH

     

    In my imagination, a strange dream-vision of what I will be like in thirty years' time, thirty years older, is coming up in my mind. Beaten, worn, broken, despicable, deceived not only by the deceitful human soul but by the primordial elements of nature: malleable matrices. Even then I will watch from my small rectangular room how the new world order devours and devours itself and 

    and Man in it, like a prodigal animal! The secret viruses of my brain's reticular system will attack Alzheimer's while together they warn me of death. Yet it is not the death-consciousness with its snarling hyena-circles that lurks: its lonely emigration is already well sharpening its sword of doom above my head! 

    "There is nothing to fear from death, my boy," say the experts, "Only time is hard to decipher, our last countdown, for which we are here!" - And perhaps if I had managed to take Someone else to my side, a caring fami...

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    METHOUGHT

     

    If I had believed the flirtatious whispers, the deceitful speeches, the heap of begging compliments flirting with all - Now would not prison and helpless indifference be Solitude, I could rejoice in the tiled happiness of others! The tearful grief-balls of my eyes Would not be hurt by the knife-sting of brightly offensive days, And the planetary continence of hearts in the home mood 

    Would repent, find home, and perhaps despairing uncertainty of existence Would not rightly be so much as to ask if Tomorrow will yet be worthwhile? 
    I would sit with the celebrated childhood youth and read with diligence the apocrypha of my ant-letters into their gawking, exploring glances! And, bewitching my deer-eyes, would greet me with smiles of starry-eyed fairy-will, and all-giving, mischievous angel-face, 

    and my broken soul would not be a pessimist infected with insecurity, and my agoraphobia could be finally trampled down if I knew and ...

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    HARDEST DECISION

     

    It was the hardest: to see and discover soul-continents in the eyes of the stars! To fall in love with a lost delusion with the usual frivolity, free of rice-talk and sincere telepathy: we could have been happy somewhere! Well-fenced prison walls, masked smiles concealed, masking on my face the ancient rejection! Wounds longing to heal, despite balmy words, they never heal!

    That was the hardest: To stand before a class with outspread, armour-clad ideals, To make Truth confess while you were laughingly scolded in the name of moral judgment! Then on the vaults of eyes the sympathetic pearl-curtains of forgiveness seemed to gleam; Tears fell in ditches, the shores of mouth-crevices were now hard to usurp 

    laughter, and sad resignation, in its pain, was cracked, and through the soul's amber veil, in pain, it began to sprawl! 

    It was the hardest: To press on with a determination the hopeless love we knew rightly, while we both ...

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    NOTHING? PETTY'S?

     

    Silence has handcuffed thy lips with forbidden words, Thou hast not spoken, nor I called thee: I have tried to bear the knowledge with lousy vulgarity: Thou hast given thy lily-fibre blades, thy gifts of kisses to others! We could not deny it! It would have been a supreme lie, a mutual deception! In the Eden gardens of our hearts, more and more territory was reclaimed like weed-weeds by the ruthless Nothing! 
    The immortal and eternal one-perches of earth's universe have become the homes of banyan bumps and weeds! Like a month-old untended kitchen garden! - Would you have said with confident lark's tinkle, if there had been enough blood for two

    In thine arms I might have found eternal bliss, Had I time left for thy armoured will, With unbreakable fortitude I would have borne In my arms the statue-porcelains of thy frail body. My good companion would have received me with a stinging trust. 

    I would have paid my tribute of l...

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    DESCRIPTION


    (With love to V.K.)

    Your love for me is fading. It may not have been born long ago, it may have been only an imagined fantasy - if it ever lasted. I have been reduced to an aimless target, because I could not find you, and because you did not take the wise and wise will to seek me at all, though I thirsted for your existence like a hot sunset, with a wounded heart! And I could not get enough of it!

    Thy eyes, that never gave up Hope cherished, and, if need be, with tears of mirth at the betrayal of blood-pain, humble, charming, and telling- Our passion must have been but an undeveloped vestige, a stint on the altar of our deserved passions: how far faded in bloom our missed, yarrow-lived kiss-warfare: The charming and naive series Of child-kisses yet daring to believe 

    - I have held thy hands, though thy fragile bones were far from me, And know that our vulnerable consciences have too often been deceived and betrayed; - Around us, gently tre...

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    STOCK-TACKING

     

    Were there loving and teasing compliments, flirtatious pranks, nonsense, streaming shower-floods that swan-face enclosed like a fence within itself? were there heavenly hearts listening to the fire of my serenade burning the bunches of my compliments, crackling embers glowing immortally in the furnace of my heart? 

    Happiness in all-powerful smiles happily lounging! Were there jesting court jesters, enthusiastic troubadours Who could but for moments have colonized the romance Of earthly stars in the eye-bowls? Comings and goings in ray-bombarded summers, nameless rumours, bargaining promises, have carried me and borne me in the trenches of years. 

    Few I would look into my eyes with honesty's shackles: perhaps they too may have secretly guessed I would not escape the truth. - Were there trembling hands on my face, and then hearts, clasped in my breast, leaping out, captive; unquenchable loves for each other, ever flaming? Tiny gigglin...

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    SISYPHUS PREDICTION

     

    I came from the katlan-holds of the high hills, tempted by howling wolves, carrying the memories of happy consciousnesses, rolling invisible Sisyphus stones on eternal days, like one who in summer picks up a mark, to cast in spring, to pine in sweat! - I have seen a muscular ridge towering straight in homage, 

    and the valley-yard, with its peaceful lure, will welcome me! All that I loved I kept to be a fuller man! Like the rich-sad sacrifice of gushing tears in the eye-stands: the blood-clear sincerity of pains, the sigh of complaint, I have preserved in the match-box of my conscience the real raging of emotion of storms,

    The dazzling eyes of earth's stars did not ask my compliments nor my beauties! From my bombarding and all-seeing chestnut eyes I would have asked Humility, unselfishly caring kindness! For days on end I listened, absorbed, to my half-hearted pessimism, as a wise message from the wise Theiresias: "The camp of the br...

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    STORE-OLTARY

     

    I have always shown the tearful judgments of my eyes: betrayed by furious heartbeats, in the crossfire of flirtatious glances I have guarded the treasured gifts of my compliments! I am the chronicler of unemployment - the impossible and the renunciation of the unhappy, in my welcoming solitude the fires of the night: star-continents wake their negro dreams with me on the map of cosmos, the abandoned! Self-pity strangles me daily, and pessimism offers me a possible theory of chaos: "Why do you work as a laboring prisoner? The pay is already going up!" 

    Perhaps if, with sighs that could be heard even in the unknown, with pulsating beats of devouring fervour, the unknown would gently guide me to the shelter of someone, to the island of his harmony, and understanding would be neither a pretense nor an empty word, but would be transformed into an all-powerful, forgiving embrace. It would become a tender altar-altar, a prayer of true pearls on my ...

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    WILL SHATTERED

     

    After weeks and months thought wasted...
    After the flash of a minute, in which inspiration had burned its secret marks, all the idle scribblings were at last fulfilled. The ant-hundreds of letters trumpeted nervous alarms, in my deaf ears the prophet-herald: "Awake with speed, the bridesmaids of the muses cannot wait! Time to refresh in your cobwebbed brain-craters the squandered knowledge of your experiments in opportunity!
    Every minute is an hourglass turned upside down, from which have rolled away the fine grains of dust, the fine crystals of grain, that proclaim transience. I plastered my face with shaving foam, and became a kindly bearded Santa Claus, though only until I had mowed the amber foliage of my lush hair forest with a sharp razor! 

    I saw the universe born, I saw in tearful pearls the irreplaceable losses Sadness like a murderous thief has caused, And I imagined that with a nobler part of my soul I might find a mate on...

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    PRECARIOUS EXISTENCE

     

    Stormy hurricane-force winds are coming. Whipping rain threatens. Between heaven's vault and creating earth, raging voices are raging! Bullets of glass, tear-drops bouncing from the sad eyes of windows. On the ridges of muscular spines the dagger makes paths, On the backs of rocks the lightning claws, Scratches with its needle-tooths: heavenly obscurity. With eager embracing arms ever clinging, The lurking ivy seeks safety and shelter: Young and unconscious lovers can only thus long For the embracing 

    To the island of peace and safety, Harmony! In gluttony insatiable in greed, Armies of slugs threaten the potato fields in alarm. The ladybirds in their red-spotted skirts would dance in vain now. The countryside is trembling and writhing in uncertainty! Pear-apples and peaches are still growing, ever more vibrant and juicy. 

    The Omnipotence is everywhere present and watching! Time is doomed to die, and system as law is finally preserv...

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    TELEPATHY-PATHWAYS

     

    Between the cross-section of our fingers the Universe tingles, trembles! I see broken fragments through the secret mirrors of your eyes: I am alone in the safety of your home, and yet I am with you! What remains of our memories together: the erotic romance of your mouth-glow, your flirtatious smile, the proclaimed fashionableness of your amber-contour - we have been swimming in an unfulfilled sea of dreams for a long time - you yourself must have felt it - it is better to get rid of depressed reality as soon as possible! 

    If I had known that thy vulnerability in me would have raised island-worlds, and I would have at once made the net-worlds of thy secret dreams and desires! Alas! But many impossible, strange, and foolish doubts have haunted me long, And I could not but by my soul-keeping words give thee the half-secret Truths of my soul as a gift! 

    Long have I lived basking in the incarnation of thy omnipotence, And even now I cannot r...

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    TELEPATHY-PATHWAYS

     

    Between the cross-section of our fingers the Universe tingles, trembles! I see broken fragments through the secret mirrors of your eyes: I am alone in the safety of your home, and yet I am with you! What remains of our memories together: the erotic romance of your mouth-glow, your flirtatious smile, the proclaimed fashionableness of your amber-contour - we have been swimming in an unfulfilled sea of dreams for a long time - you yourself must have felt it - it is better to get rid of depressed reality as soon as possible! 

    If I had known that thy vulnerability in me would have raised island-worlds, and I would have at once made the net-worlds of thy secret dreams and desires! Alas! But many impossible, strange, and foolish doubts have haunted me long, And I could not but by my soul-keeping words give thee the half-secret Truths of my soul as a gift! 

    Long have I lived basking in the incarnation of thy omnipotence, And even now I cannot r...

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    COMPLAINT


                         
    I listened to the whispers of voices in fertile silence - I waited: slowly, deliberately, patiently! Compassion must have possessed me for moments - To my compliments' euphemisms all-all answered with a smile! It clung like a turbulent dove, The walking hibernated existence on earth, And the dream, the throbbing pulsation of Immortality, With the webs of idyllic dreams! - In schoolrooms secret romance playing mischievous tongues immovable earthly 

    Angel-with repentant doe-eyes has called forth his constant superstitions! Heartbeat rooted in the earth! Stunned cardiac arrest, biology's conscious catharsis-state, became a fragment of meaningfully lived moments! In the tingling tremor of swan-tails I hid my paper-consuming, madcap secrets! 

    No other could have heard and seen but a star-browed fairy! - Her waving long legs bent in a cross, her daring flirtati...

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    THE SURFACE

     

    Once again, the "who misses" premonition of a huge fuss? Tell me, who misses it? After years and months of repetition on uninterrupted cogs, there is no point in throwing sweat-scented savings out of the window! - No small flat, no car, no wife with a sheltering refuge over my head - who could be happier and more contented after all this? 

    Long spread tables, and here a proud tent spreading its wings, before an unknown host of guests, offers its bounteous bounty! I suppose they neither see nor hear: they have long since dipped in the more troubled petty worlds of themselves, and then have sunk as amused guests! 

    I'm not amused by the big fuss! It chokes me! It distresses me that some proclaim the riches of sumptuous tables while down in the jelly-like depths the worm of poverty and despair gnaws at the iron roots of their so-called existence! - I have made a reservation - just for myself - as I like! On the island-peripher...

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    GAP-FIXING

     

    Only now - on the precipice of my loneliness, stranded and orphaned, I thought that I would capture the fugitive from all that was in my heart, and if my beloved's face bloomed with the strange smile of the universe, I might free my fear in myself! Man's heart-throbbing complaint, thus bursting, left no rest- The bridesmaids of flawless sighs were answered with kisses by starry eye-grids!

    Thoughtfully I cast down the imagined desire, From the home of selfish conscience, As if to lift immortal consolation, selfless forgiveness- Only in my last moments did I realize That my inner metamorphosis-self-pity, my recurring pessimism, had begun! - Where even common sense had allied itself with the emigrant consciousness of loneliness in a ruthless 

    breaks its way with bone-deadening viscera, and browbeats all, a future without certain answers! I have learned, through a torrent Of gallant, mocking, and foolish jest, In my purple heart, with a ...

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    IN A RANGE OF CLAYS    

            

    On uncertain, material ground I have taken back My ancient-legged possessions, And up on the ocean of heaven's waving sadness They sparkle till they touch the ground! - Can I feel no more, can I not with hold nor hold Allow my sinking pessimism? Green-scaled chameleon-leaves drenched with knocking rain, The lonely trees stood like upturned clothes-hangers! 

    Thou hast offered me honeyed love with insatiable greed, But thy kisses and thy will's bombardment soon make me half cold again, And I'll flee back to my hiding cower! - I have seen the ice-face of thy last face as the self-torment of the last, as a thorn in the heart of the tormenting and tormenting! In the secret stream of blood-tunnels the poison of regret has settled, but still the crimson chamber and its appendages beat with raging vengeance! 

    In the river of tearful sorrows, in the forest of bushes, I would visit thee, if I could: but I am...

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    STORAGE

     

    On a stumbling ant-tangle, in a rampant, unbridled mass of people, came the unknown faces of the Present times, who, pondering terrible secrets, are trembling, guarding their wounded sufferings, carrying their all-experienced brokenness! 
    Adonises in suits, with their character, and running Amazons, with their briefcases under their arms. 

    Carried themselves with urgency. Ladies, complimenting beauties, paid no heed to willow-boys, just flirted on, needed themselves. The answers of timed atomic moments were scratched on everyone's face: Straining Time-markers, seeping like secret hieroglyphic engravings into the poles of their skin. - All my sincere words became stuttering, for I was confronted with the capital

    He - tell me boldly, you useless knowers of my soul, what should I have done: should I have run away, or would I have confessed if he had looked at me through the reflecting eyes of stars? - I cannot know myself. It is...

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    STAR-CATCHING

     

    Iron handcuffs in my hands, anxious daffodils: swan-fingers tingling towards immortal fulfilment. All compassion and humility in my eyes a prisoner: stars' shining clinging to the sure infinite, Will we be witnesses of happy moments of love, shall we say? 

    Confess with your crystal-clear smile, my angel, my angel, my angel? - There has happened the mighty tingling miracle The magical occasion, that thou hast allowed me to discover In the atrium of thy beating heart-flutes The sure essence: thy honest truths' judgment, and thy pure self. I would have come home in thee, and thy dreams 

    In the sweet home of your dreams we could have built A whole life! The mystery of thy body I knew not yet, But in crossings of unconscious secret paths, With telepathy's invocations thou didst unfold, And show the earthly biological metamorphosis of thy all! I have watched the hot and insatiable longing of your eyes: the artful curve of your del...

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    SILENCE-CRATER

     

    Facial fissures fill up instantly, they crack like craters down deep. On the mountain opposite stands the prophet's house.- Love poisons with faint sighs: signs of life in tears, painful scars. 
    Death's keys are tapped by heartache. I am ashamed of the shock of not having been with you, of the doubt that I have been a pessimistic fool, that I have failed in my relationship! 

    - The last photograph of you you did not send, for it may not have been faded, but I still cherished it in my heart with persistent will, diligently! In the shaggy forest of my oak-trees You sought whispering voices, While you healed my hole-ridden heart with self-righteousness and unselfishness! 

    Nothing yet was seen, Of our all-encompassing connection, of our idyllic existence; Into thy gum-suckled mouth of blood-apple, like a ripe red apple, I did not bite; My cavernous head sought thy harmony-dividing motherly lap, To rest once and for all - ...

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    AT YOUR HEART


     

    It's gone - it hasn't even begun - this day without you, my darling! In vain have I tramped through the alley of harassment, with common sense in fetters, that I might have come to thee with a sighing sigh, from thy guilty eyes, to seek salvation, a smile of liberated radiance, among the crosses of inquisitor's eyes, I could not find thy caring gaze! 

    - Yet each eternal day as you recede farther and farther with the loneliness of stars in your chestnut gazes from me you draw and repel me with your gaze, like the centres of powerful electromagnetic planets. The summer blast that threatens the straw bales is sounding again: flowers on the hervatagon are fluttering, sinning and sweating in fallow fields 

    Like weeping Vesta-virgins, with their virginity they pay Their smouldering, melancholy lover! When thou didst come before me no longer cared for the outside world, Alpha and Omega thou didst become in a state of immort...

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    THROUGH DIAMOND PILLARS 

     

    On the old man's horizon of the valley-backs, The starry glow is farewell: When the cool down-steam rises, From the fields of orphaned maiden-hair, Thyself will be at peace. The sun's knife-edge fight, With its poisonous thorn-buggish chains, Soon shall cease for ever! - Red dragons still fight above for the remaining fiery throne: Poopy Dozen's honour! 

    Loneliness in the dead-hiding corner of the room! - Thou, father, in thy broken life, didst not know how to manage thy time, Thou didst drown thy ancient fervour in a fire of curses and curses. Thou didst come from the orchard, and in thy wrathful revenge thou didst pluck up all thy trees of fertility! 

    Like doom! In bull-fights thou canst be but a wounded and hurt animal! - You should no longer be told, "Don't do it, you'll hurt yourself." - But thou thyself art still a youth, and canst not understand the weight of thy ways. - You should speak in stars: Th...

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    FIREWORKS

     

    Black is the sky above the valley, like a lonely Methuselah, who is left alone and has no one! To the left of it, a motorway, a tiny town dormant in the valleys. Among the scaly foliage of the trees, the sunlight walks a mischievous and mischievous game of hide-and-seek, listening in secret and silence to the metamorphoses of animal tongues! - My flesh the stabbing atomic rays: the threatening eye of the sun has long since scarred, Is there any mercy left in any man to wound his blistered crater-eyes

    To comfort and anoint the skin with a secret remedy? - On the walls of my room, suffocating volcanic airs, waiting to kill, distillates wait obediently to be taken in, to be swallowed up with a great bite! - I have always loved the varied Autumn and the not too warm Spring! 

    Well, the fullness of human nature is only to be measured in the change of seasons! And now that my seductive and luscious lover appears before me daily in an Eve-suit: as a...

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    SINGER MORSE-SIGN


                           
    I locked all the doors, wooden boxes, I even nailed up the shutters if there were any left! The wandering fugitives of my four quarters still knock at my window with the weight of the day! - Here is the smallest room, made of four rows of concrete blocks, like a Lego cube, and we'll be glad if it doesn't collapse soon! 

    The nothingness of nothing, the all-filling continent Stretches along the hangman's walls! The volcanoes' craters are nailed here by the fiery lover Summer: a fire-nest in an age of love's flames. With condolence I pay homage, bowing my head in humility, To the day-labourers of the raging skies, Whose momentary bliss, too, is dependent on the laws of unknown nature, Grazing among the bastions of the bubbling needle-bearers, Grasshoppers of consolation

    make music. All seems to cease when sun-spots are cherished in the fertile ...

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    WILDERNESS IN HANDCUFFS

     

    I close my two eyes, you close your two stargazing eyes. I would stretch out my unknown and hesitant two hands, seeking you, the loyalty of your immortal embrace, - I know: one day I may find you and you will recognize me again after so many tortured years, my dear one! What now is unknown and uncertain - you'll soon see it will be clear and tangible, chocolate like your almond-eyes, if you take my trembling hand.

    We are the only two in the confusion, and the aching cosmos-magazine that harasses our ever-budding dreams In storms of emotion that pervade the universe, in hurricane-force romance, we alone are still awake and vigilant! The sure token of my sincerity I owe to you alone! I have kept the indecipherable in my oaken bark, while you were with me, and you with me! 

    The tinkling Spring hid in the exotic folds of thy skirt, And thou didst send me thy budding smile, That soared like the independent wind! On my brazen smile you bathed,...

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    CELLULAR ROMANTICISM

     

    Gloomy darkness. Starless all-ness-magan. Fated ones feel such a sickening persecution When suddenly they are condemned: From scapegoats to mere victims, expendable dust! Some Methuselah's burden the proud sea bears With its pregnant waves of siege. Perhaps Pandora's long-lost secret box! Perhaps the budding, personal romances of miscarried kisses? -Outside, the wind conveys the clamorous tossings and tumult of voices! 

    The bone-crushing waters are frozen like frozen loves. Behind the rushing clouds, the birds of machines are twittering, chirping among themselves: at least they are happy! Wrapped in tourists' favourite cage-sites: through dawn's wounds my sleepless minutes are restless. If the air turbulence and shakes beneath me! Do you see me, you only one, you priceless one, pass over your head? 

    Do the proud eyes of the envious, the haughty of the proud see me? A stormy lover looks me in the face daily, And, if I am ...

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    THE BRANDS OF COWARDICE

     

    My biological existence has belied itself: I have grown to at least one hundred and ninety-eight centimetres, and yet a curious child winks at me, unwise! I have no peace of mind, who knows how long I've had it: I've only been searching, chewing, itching, my hands in handcuffs, and now I've quietly put aside my twenty-eight years, I've carried the riches of my imagination, and I'm losing confidence every day! 

    My name has faded to a scarlet stamp, my person is growing more and more timid, more and more timid. - Who can tell how long since I have been among True men who do not laugh, but accept with every nerve! Consolation can seldom be given nowadays by a mother's embrace, a mother's embrace, a mother's hand of protection and care, in a time of great terror! A bruised loser is the Word once proclaimed as bloody truth by the "great ones!" - Around my being, the uncertainty grows more and more suffocating, the ...

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    PICTURE OF LIFE

     

    It comes, it goes, it knocks, and then suddenly the time-fragment of dying minutes leaps on. To my room I wander like a bamboozled frog. The streets' black maws, like plundered, burnt-out graves, craters stare back at me. - In starry darkness all is calm: 

    The sober wit of existence rests on my pillow, broken in pieces, to save its endless toil for eternity and then carry it on! Then I feel it: Every victim who has gone to ruin is also a scapegoat for blundering, a living protester and proclaimer who cherishes and protects his vulnerability. 

    And yet - he ends a beggar beggar, for he has never made his voice heard in the dust of the road! - But long since I have been building a mysterious incognito bastion Around me silent, desperate, untrammelled, confiding, independent solitude Without my whispering, half-voiced word, I cannot yet be trampled!

    A proud cavalcade of ice-creams, a shackling of tastes, of arguments, is enthr...

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    DOUBLE-TRACK SILENCE

     

    Closed doors open before me again,
    A yawning rift of sky-holes threatens to stab me with lightning's knife-tips if I'm not careful, I'll be careful. - All things here greet me as familiar: the cathedral, long since better days, the lofty row of knocked-about furniture, and the hall of history's portraits are familiar! But in the school days, in the universal corridors of solitude, long unseen faces, echoes greet me, and the inquisition of the inadequate in my black book! 


    I have never understood: if one grinds his mind with knowledge to sharpen it, and to keep it witless, why should it always be punished? When I came here as a young man: Ladies' wreaths adorned every window, and laughed drunkenly with their cant! What could have happened? Have the truth-tellers and the messenger-wise been driven away? Wherever I stop in the fragmentary moment, I am caught in a cell by fear and the justice of dread! 

    Sn...

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    PESSIMISTIC DAY-REMAINS

     

    The pessimistic weekdays were many, the worn, useless school desks and the climbing Sisyphus ticket: insufficient - for the most part - and sufficient. The crossfire of promising eyes of treachery, and the piteous verdict of the inquisitions lurking in the eyes: 'Let us see! Who dares to do more and more?" - In the hearts of men a murderous rage has been kindled, - It still frightens me, it may make me weep: The germs of my knowledge have been thinned, weeded by the stench of calumny and humiliation! 

    - What did I know then, what might await me? - A ruined nervous system, a pessimism disguised by suicide? Sweet promises, or Janus-faced opportunists? In which the victim is always the scapegoat! - In the consciences of men, stigma-stamped and stifled, you are given the title of Luzer as an honour in the camp of innocent fools! 

    There were many, lawless, pessimistic weekdays, many self-destructive consciousnesses of Nothingness: t...

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    WEIGHT OF EVERYDAY LIFE

     

    Our neighbour is once again roaring his spoiled child. grey knocked prison walls still rattle on and on, shivering inside. The constant bombardment of nerve endings is unbearable. The dusty night is illuminated by the glittering hollyhocks of stars, lanterns, lantern-containers.

    The little boy searches hysterically, demandingly for the tire tracks of his missing bicycle, like a magic tricycle that could take him to the sky, but all he finds is a yellow aluminium floor scuffed to a parchment, an iron grid drilled into islands of panel elements! I'd console it with a handkerchief or a pleasantly sour gumdrop, just so that the lost earthly harmony can return, and blue, red, yellow, green,

    Delicate little taste-fruits, roll down her little throat Like tiny hands in my bag, gripping my bag with great grip! - But what I imagine, that the proud foundations of possible friendship may be laid, - I murmur to myself. - The little boy hysterically demand...

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    I WAS HURT IN EVERYTHING

     

    It's day again and again. My beating heart is aching again, and every moment of existence is shattered! The ancient thrills of compassion are not yet reserved for me! Now and then a rusty office door squeaks, - names are read aloud, in the silence pregnant with murder: the heralds, the ne'er-do-wells, the rookies, the wise ne'er-do-wells, the rookies, the rule of roll call, go to execution in order. 

    The patent buttons of a disheveled, masked suit cracked on me in the stifling heat, if it was fitting to confess the knowledge acquired, for one could hardly do otherwise! - During the day, glass and crystal-palace-shaped tear-balls rolled down the trenches of faces like soft and tender cries of supplication: we were artificially aged to our humiliated moments by the immortal thrill of fear. As if here on the planet a secret law of hopelessness were calling for admission - but fearful no one would hear it now. The camp of the more knowledgeabl...

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    WOUNDED REALITY

     

    The wounded eternity is on its way: it steps over the broken heart, it shares its pain alone! Its skin is thorny and its steps are heavy! Like a fear-bearing Sisyphus-child He drags himself on and on! He who has endured the existence of moments, the cancer of humiliations, is now helpless and hysterical! Guarded with innocence, now he thirsts for honesty - but he himself knows not where he has left himself!

    Turned against him by frothy-mouthed, green-eyed whoremongers, flattering contemporaries, greedy envious ones - Only his loneliness, his one handcuffed solitude, will hold him for ever: The last refuge that gives fertility and madness! He needs a cleansing solitude-consciousness, a secret incognito Existence! - Thus with wounded eternity he paces, ponderous and half-coward at every step! 

    Words cannot heal him, but unselfish help! Some partiality in hearts is stirred, And in all-knowing starry eyes the treasures of Humility tremble! To en...

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    FACE-PLASTERS 

     

    Outside, the tears are besieging the fragile face-blind. But within, in the globes of eyes, in the globes of retinas, the reality of sadness has become more probable and vulnerable! We cherish for a while the apparent pain, the ruins of emotions, as careful survivors, and yet we do not ask: Have we changed or have we risen again? - One pearl is pale, another a crystal of treasure, the third a palace of glass, all so fleeting and mortal. Inside, working in the secret cavernous catacombs of the organism, the ever-living cell-motors are biological particle-molecules!

    Men may melt again into one in the sea of pains. - Vulnerability remains a stranger to those who have yet learned to respect the fancy rules of existence, when, amid the shower of tears, the fallible humanity of Reality is revealed in the true eyes! The pain - one does not know where it comes from! But on the metronomes of secret thresholds of emotion all can feel it, and from miserable despair y...

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    DIALOGUE WITH UNKNOWN FORCES

     

      My father and mother abandon me, because the law of biology is cruel and inexorable! What will happen to me then? - I never cared what the wise and the great thought. - I am afraid. On the remaining stumps of my days, the faintest will of my hope wavers! - Thou art already doomed, thou hast squandered thy remaining chance! 

    And if I say that every day I take small steps on the road to self-realization? Even then, without a hole in your pocket, you'll be a cheap John, soon to be shovelled out. - A racing heart, if it's a nuisance, may I take it out and bury it? 

    I can't let you do that, I can't let you! So the burden of existence continues to pester me, to threaten me? - It merely allows choices, but does not limit. Can there be a more meaningful relationship between sentient souls? - Behind hidden blushing faces, the clattering of the clattering 

    The heart's bosom that may easily burst in sorrow...

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    REWRITTEN FATE

     

    Only the look from heaven, with the lark's merry music, sends a message to the heart. Only two fragile hands, touching with care, Comforting me when need calls! Only an immortal smile that promises the All, and then offers thee its fruits of Eden! It promised a semblance of uncertainty when it was All! 

    It was: a shining rainbow, to drive from the horns of my head the gloomy clouds, and expand around us the wide prison-limits of trust! What seemed happiness: it was an empty eye-loss, And sorrow, too, may have grown Bottomless ditches! 

    There was but one sure point: mutual self-deception, a lying consciousness. "Tell me, my love, do you still love me?" - "More than anything in the world!" - "I'm still a little poisoned by those false words. 

    And yet I did my best, so that I might be rewarded for ever in the gleam of her eyes! - Instead of the fragrant wreaths of flowers in my hands, I held ...

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    THE WELL-BEING OF EXISTENCE    

         

    I have gone through life at full unchanged speed! The treasures of smells, wonders and emotions evaporated behind me - I did nothing as I should have done through the eyes of others: I was influenced by the tiny molecules of unknown existence. The hands of women watched over my babbling, fluttering change of age, as they later smoothed my school-lesson path - I could retire to their safety for good: my spirit could finally wake up and wonder at the ant-hill view of the world, 

    but there was still, by decree, the molasses rags! I hid in the shadows, unseen, unmoving. With my inner eye I measured the mischievous exchanges of immortal kisses: all were downcast, disheartened little sequences-challenges, real emergencies generated challenges, like nuclear cores splitting. 

    I am ashamed of my many blunders, my plethora of mistakes - so true! I've seen the harsh brutalities of real life in the sirens of crime thrillers. Even ...

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    ON THE PRECIPICE OF WAVES

     

    Waves, waves: with their dreams the sailor sways, and the living who has not been swallowed by Atlantis! Bikini-clad amazons from sea foam, Sea goddesses boil my blood, Like the bewitching words of dreams. They hope for romantic compliments. Trenches, valleys, chasms open like gates of the Sea: the ancient wise!

    Murmuring, murmuring graveyard, Lover licking the rocks' southern hips! Chewing on the broken crumbs of memories, what remains is like tiny moments. The sun's volcanic knife-edge, pricked, yet wounds my blistered skin: insomnia greets me, whenever the night's livid light looks upon me!

    Cautiously I dare to loll: my struggling lack of oxygen helps me in the fear of death; with the bursting of bubbles that call life, it warns me of dangers. And all footprints that once immortal emotions Imposed in desert sand-dune homes - Turn to petrified stone. 

    But has anyone ever asked why a stone bleeds when water touches it?...

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    PLANET-EYES

     

    What a fertile calm. Perhaps it is the time of immortal fulfilment, that is why he is so content. Harmonious to move here now. unnecessary activity cherished as a caring parent by Time! - We are still here; in the consummate immortality of the All, imprisoned, in each other's hearts, in each other's consciences. 

    Walled up in the turbulent tunnels of our shafts of humanity. Then come the grey-weathered days of the week, - voices envious and jealous of our happiness. To live only for each other, to hope, To be absorbed in the heaven of Existence - The most important moral deed: To live a while longer, while love is earned and cherished! 

    How many hopeless, fleeting moments to ponder The eternity of fallibility: more and more certain The unconditional oath of fidelity to a given sentiment can give! The beating messages of hearts in unison live side by side like ripe apples in the secret gardens of Hesperides! 

    And w...

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    LOSS OF PERSONALITY

     

    Turning inward, you just look, you don't look inward. Chasing the ringed carriage of idyllic dreams, Into memories of childhood's past, into the unchangeable past, Into the blunders of your futility; There you dwell, who is the man who whispers to you the beseeching words of your conscience!

    Thou seest merry, jumping players around thee- All rule-breaking, thou thyself imaginest, This must be Order in the midst of disorder! And the rest of thy unsuspected, secretly lurking helpers - tell me, where have they gone?! Thou hold'st in thyself thy individual, selfish hopes, if thou hold'st them by word and call your feelings by their name! Your heart trembles when you have to decide with responsibility, so you ask them, and what they murmur into the gaping shells of your ears you may yet decipher, you may put into words like a message-telling hermit, a mute prophet in apostasy - you war with opinions, you argue!

     Within the immorta...

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    UNDER THE CROWD








     

     

    Babits and Arany stood guard over his prestigious desk like two living, otherworldly princes. The two prophet-heralds on the tired, weathered mountain of culture, the serious-minded Babits, cherishing his humanism of humanity, as Rippl-Rónai understood and saw him, and the already autumn-eyed Arany, sitting on his favourite Margaret Island: Incongruously, bearded 

     

    Waiting and receiving the hasty decrees of his age, like the ever modest! - To my nervous musings - well, what more can I say? - suddenly the starry-eyed and proud-faced eminence of the literary history theatre enthusiast, pulls his bushman-brows together before me, pointing his finger in his face 

     

    "Well, that's a four you've said so far! Do you want to go on?" I said, "Go ahead and ask!" - And now the bell-ringing bell-end smiles and la...

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    COSMOS BARGAINING

     

    Knock-knock, cat-kat; thundering bullets hit the windows. Perhaps this is how the ominous sky sends us hidden messages from the stars: A shower of a million tears, meteor and comet, Bombard the winds with impudence and sadness! Man is often better, to cowardice he flees - He retires to a bed of cherishing, hesitantly endures, that the gloomy veil of night is torn by the sharpened teeth of lightning: whip cracking thunder!

    I can but listen to the murderous, bargained silence of vulgar Nature, I peer through the craters of treacherous eyes, and with a sly blink I peep; fears, terrors, and horror-mists draw me ever onward, and choke me, and never let me go - on the levels of nightmares. 

    To the bickering bickerings of cosmos I shall yield at last! Raw is the diamond-hard reality my loneliness only impregnates; I would fain be comforted in the caring harmony of motherly laps but one last time! The vanity of incomprehension sits proud on the ruin...

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    THE STREET

     

    The proud and frivolous signs of neglect are everywhere, drawing every street corner to themselves, welcoming them in! The shadows of the hidden places in the alleyways of the streets are growing! They grow in the false consciousness that they can scare people with impunity, and at the same time get on other people's nerves to the point of pimples! 

    But even now the old houses stand tall and on their proper hill: shutters down, indifferent caretakers proclaiming the raging peace that still remains! - In vain the street is an eternal, immortal noise-quiet, Still preserves something of your indelible past: How far have you come? How did you reach the curvature of your stretching path?

    For it is in vain that the unrelenting darkness, like a distrustful prisoner, spins a lasting cobweb around you - you cannot forget your broken tears, nor your muddy sufferings. The proud and frivolous signs of abandonment are everywhere, enveloping every str...

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    WASTING

     

    Thou caressest me no more with thy gentle hand: for on all eternal and holy occasions I have waited for thee to cheer me! Now all the sacred places where you once left the exotic lines of your delicate feet are empty and empty. Thou wast a clever and naughty little princess, while thy virtue by thy side was vainly banished! Behind the everlasting mask of thy smile, a love uncharted and proud has been made!
    Thy wiles were like pearls of glass on my beating heart, And we did not know what sparkled and flowed between us, Youthful folly, or mere immortal transfiguration? The unutterable, superstitious moment was beautiful, wonderfully beautiful! 

    And again come the gloomy months and years. His dark Joconda eye He saves for another as the blackmailer of his fornicator, And no longer the name "maiden" fits him! With a motherly smile, her priceless being is illumined by woman's maturity! Never more shall she ask me to bear her children. ...

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    OFFERING SIEVE

     

    You should sleep! In soft, embracing laps, To escape back to budding caresses, And leave me free and rich, To be comforted by my dear mother's caring hand - In times of fate-turning delights, to beckon! For any one may say anything! Can chant and chatter symbolic and preachy words in the heart's deepest heart 

    Yet there is a treasure that proud, prodigal wills cannot forget! In dreams the ship glides honeyed, If I am lovingly embraced by my chosen! If I let my eyes sleep, I think of happy fulfillments forgotten: In sincere throbs we have charmed to each other The immortality that binds our hearts! 

    The good words are gone, and the caresses that filled the Universe: in clasped hands the sweat of grace has been shed and tightened! And if my babbled sweetheart were here, I would comfort the omnipresent traces of her feet with kisses; a chattering, stumbling, miserable fool, an experimenting all-rounder! - We are both guilty and res...

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    THE SECRET OF ROSE

     


    Secret symbol of love or sacrifice to fertility - ever panting, thirsting for the cooling springs of showers. Time is stubbornly dying. And like the loss of petals proclaiming fragility, The proud hopeful light of dawn, More and more humbled, unprofitably, sheds its rays! 

    Its thorny, unbreakable stalk now closes, Like the sigh of the condemned at the right of last words,- Its opening, majestic chalice now resembles but a broken mother-cup! In her room, where all day long She bathed in halo, enthroned on her girded lofty throne, In her vase's crystal tube Someone put fresh water, 

    delaying for lingering minutes the remnant doomed to mortality! I could not take it down from the table, its thorny crown of branches secretly prevented it from becoming the wide-bowled maraud of our dustbin: its existence, already, is but fragments if it is enough. Fatal transience, like a sly doer, has deliberately and slowly stripped naked her d...

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    DO NOT KNOW YET

     


    Surely no one knows any more that, like the streams that grow in my two eyes, the flood has often made its way. That I have been bitterly bitter, and have buried my little memories of love! No one knows now where my untouchable paradise and my heart's eternal gate Was: the prison bars are embraced by the thorny branches of martyrs' briers, and spreading richly! 

    In ancient dew and mystic mists this land is now lost, And in deserted apocalyptic pools on the surface of suicidal tears float The fortunate ones who live above Have long since moved away, and only loneliness weeps, still more and more at night. Where skeleton branches tremble and shudder, and all the sane shudder 

    that dictates all reason. But perhaps all is not yet lost, nor can so easily be forgotten The toiling hope that may hopefully create Tomorrows under the sun! - But happier, happier moments, like trout's winged run, Fall at once into the throat of ...

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    DESERTED WOUND

     

    Then there were gloating scarecrows, howling wolves - like a pack of wolves, I tell you now! In indigestible anthills, Beaten to death with a thirst for vengeance, Torture befitting the pseudo-plague. There have been slanderers, moral mud-slingers, rib-leg-breakers in unison, and rib-leg-breakers prickling like thorns, screams of mercy in school toilets smelling of gruesome odours from afar! 

    And then there were the contented lullabies of, "Now, everything will be all right!" And "Don't be afraid!" - and with gloating fist-right, killer-eyes, we all became moral emigrants within the school: we stuck to our principles! Against the guerrilla hail of bone-crushing slaps, there was little satisfaction, a pious vow: We will show you! We were bombarded by the many ugly blows! - Between our nerves, on thick wires, telegrams were running, in a harassed, violent rhythm: "If you stay inside the school, you will surely be finished! Y...

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    THE DAWNING OF THE UNIVERSE

     

    And when a man sins a little and falls into sin: He gurgles chocolates down his throat with improper methods, He gives final honour to one-man cakes to passions as lofty and sublime as being in love! To become one: with the immortal and yet metaphorically changing dough body of flour, water and eggs, with its delicious, bohemian pairings, it is possible to create rebirth. - One can sense and feel that the subtle, superstitious details do not yet create - only through hard work A morsel of only tastes, smells, and thoughts - a redemptive noble task: to rename men into unity, into a common wavelength, if it is still possible! 

    In the furnace's bosom-bowls of plenty, In the flame-caves' naked beds, Millions have been born by the flame: Diligent re-doers, may yet recreate The dough made by man's hand. How many wonders, strange and uplifting, And how many more may the deserved fruit of our patience, Waiting for harmony, unfurl? 

    ...

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    TINY EYE

     

    The soul is now seeking refuge; unbelievers harm it, slaps tear it to pieces, for it is different in everything, even in its separateness. At rest, in thy sweetheart's tender, forgiving lap, Thou canst not sit: outside, envious and malicious eyes watch thy loneliness! The prison webs of earth are closed round thee, choking.

    Tearing, grasping hands in each other's hair Tear the onions of new life's bulbs to tears: a man is broken for his lightness, And carelessness has trampled him down to nothing, And now Nothing is his eternal companion, And suffers his heart to tear! - Into the mire of disgust and helplessness I am buried! 

    They will defile you too! They will lie to thee with friendly, sweet-sounding truths, and they will be one upon the other, the smallest of dust-meal-brethren! - The soul now seeks shelter; unbelieving scoundrels do it harm. It desires contentment, harmony, and silence, that the stream of life may flow on aga...

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    THE SHACKLES OF LOYALTY

     

    Yet sometimes on your diamond bridesmaids of stars you appear, And in the lily-white court of your swan-face the embers of ashes come to life! A scarce visible thorn-barrier pricks eternally The tender petals of their haughty hearts! From our eyes, slowly, annihilated, Bleeds all the tears we ever shed For each other's consolation. And a secret signal calls from our lips!

    I would long ago have followed thee, but thy oath of loyalty has built an impenetrable barrier, and imprisoned thy independent love towards me! I have tried to contain my pessimism, and now it would be so good and sublime if you were here beside me, and your charming valour of optimism would comfort and fill my soul with self-confidence: 

    For thou art the reason I cannot be Free! Thy disarming smile encircles me, and leads me astray, - I am perhaps myself a miserable, lame prisoner of emotional dead ends. I'm surrounded by a swamp of doubts, I can only avoid my own ...

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    HAUNTING

     

    Now the sky opens its great blue trellises, And the parting cold tears, like stifling little glass marbles, With pain in themselves, while down below in the ant's nest of the cold landscape The scaly trees rustle their rusted leaves for the last time. At the end of autumn's golden streams, buried in soft and caressing cushion-buttons, angel's eyes rest, - enjoying the immortal harmony: Up on the great Bald Mountain the carpeted grass has long since faded, ruined and yellowed to a golden mound! 

    The young lovers linger a while longer, entwined in each other's arms, and breathlessly awaiting the immortal fulfilment of dawn. Drunk with love, their ears quivering, Poppy-red, and their hearts for each other breathing, A purple glowing furnace, thus they wait, bewitched, enchanted, and none of them moves, While they long wrapped in blankets, their Edenic

    And would so well, now pausing moments, To steal arbitrarily and greedily the ...

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    POSSIBILITY OF SHREDS

     

    Shreds of tired possibilities, moving stiffly into sameness; a nicotine-yellow wreck of a face still flinches in the crystal of the standing mirror, but hardly responds! All memories are shattered, and disintegrate in the brain's turbines, its thinking wavelengths! Ghostly shadows, monstrous spawns, are cast around by the frightful mist! 

    If one would come at last, in whose eyes the sheltering shooting stars would shine, and in whose eyes the care of mothers would take their cherished value, and the unknown uncertainty of existence would be the renewed confidence of Hope! From the black pools of the night's sleepless pools The eggs of nightmares hatch, and shriek in terror their dreaded apocalypse! 

    And perhaps at the dawn of the next day it will rise again, and make us forget our heart-stretching terror: in the common contrast of light and shadow, the unity of opposites is still stretched, and we are helpless against the horror...

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    SILENT DIALOGUE

     

    With restless, questioning eyes I kept looking at you... From what unknown planet, from what distant, earthly continent, has Destiny guided me? With thee I would have stepped to the heights, And besieged the immortal altars of thy love with my compliments - But on thy invisible axis of feeling - I see now - I had no place to stay! The Eden-fire of thy kisses has long since burned another. You know: I have always stood by you, 

    even when false-smiling goddesses, professing to be thy friends, have passed on interchangeable interests, and yet only modestly rejoiced in thee and thy broken dreams: thy omission has broken and poisoned me. 

    More wicked was thy refusal - if thou didst call it that! - Thy heart: thou canst know it thyself, a necessity of life, not to be denied, not to be given up! Can the accusation of thy kisses be immortal proof, and proof that thou lovest me yet? - At least do not deceive thyself, when all is turned from itse...

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    OVERPLUS?

     

    Why do you feel like a surplus here and a banished stranger? You can't even afford to pay your rent with your cheap light bulbs; you crawl here and there on the backbone of life, accusing yourself, like a false judge who is afraid of the truth, "How did we get here?" - But there are no more answers, I fear! Thou hast given up all thy chance of existence, without a fountain of material wealth, and where thou canst no longer tread

    guiltless, no guarantee, among unmarked tombstones, the surviving living search for memories! - Thou know'st thyself well, Thou would'st give all thy minutes to be with him once more, And only for the last time, but thou canst not, Thy immortal salvation is scarred by the betrayal of kisses, - And see at last that in this painted and unhousy world Thou art left alone: Faithfulness to a worthless interest is degraded, - But the future can wreck and cripple, If life's slaps be like whips to thee, And break t...

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    SUMMARY

     

    It's become a wisdom of life to be treated as a petty, cheap crime for a living, in which, as if suffering from persecution phobia, one is hunted down and never asked why he did it, and never left alone for a minute-people! The world is a debauched and divided world of accusers in slanders: the uplifting and self-helpful humanity of morality is of no account here: all connection between common sense and common sense is gone! 

    Doing nothing is the most useful deed; many lie on benches till ten in the morning, wallowing in deep sleep, and that is only useful and good for them: till the next day-then, as the cogs of eternity, the troubles not only do not cease, but go on! And all contradictory, petty reasoning has the ugly and monotonous consequence: "Your idea has failed badly!" If you appeal to the One, and dare to declare the Truth plain and simple, 

    "Shut up!" - is as clear as possible. The universal, coherent t...

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    ALLEY-HOLES

     

    We are fleeing, we are fleeing: from the troubled memories of old grievances, worries, and blunders, which memory has kept as the shame of failure, from the indelible traces, the indelible dreams, which are fading fast like mists into nothing: from body and soul we are made of pain, of bitter bile.

    And where is our happier, more teachable present, our secret time of peace, when we were still jubilant and exultant, when we were still smiling? - My soul wounds burst out of the craters of my eyes in dirty grey confetti: "I ought to slap that boy twice! He'd learn to keep order!" - I have listened to and endured the agonizing mimicry of many a sitok-word. 
    I longed for it in vain, but I could hardly have found a better place of rest and repose, at most, in my home against the alley-holes of life! - All is now final! A happier, nobler and holier task, which bore responsibility and gave sustenance, is rusting and long since half dead!

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    BOTTLE POST OFFICE

     

    Days spent in mindless nonsense, a series of waterlogged, immortal tears that slowly captured the face and its expanding remains! Even if we had cheated in the immortal moments of the Universe, which: an ever-virtuous kiss, a look, a dreamy flutter of eyelashes might have shown, we had already buried ourselves: our self-pity, our loserism! - We are gone, like a weak-willed dust, in the wind. 

    We could not see the intentions of our trapped true emotions, for we could not fly, and therefore we had long since fallen. We had to crumble up the seeds of our personality in the coastless time! For a long time I envied the immortal harmonies of hearts in exotic islands by the sea, when you were not by my side, and the more terrible was the purity,

    to wake with a sober mind to the Real: to wake the next day without you. to pine for the trite mystery of decay at so young and tender an age, to treat the emotions of others as a throwaway rag, and to go o...

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    ON YOUR PROTECTIVE WING

     


    Thy thought has drawn in the sand the omnipotent trace of thy swan-feet. A coral star thy fair eye bore! In a desert of sand, we two, half shy, clasped each other's hand, And waited the patient intimacy, Only to greet, and silently, to echo the all-pervading emotion: the heart-title of our immortality! 

    The sea-foams, licking the shapeless rocks, embrace them gracefully, stretching; dreams thought forgotten, dreams past, come to life again, and then vanish again. My feet shyly trace your footsteps, and the surface holds shapes of fine-grained sand. 

    But what else could I have done here, when you were long gone, and I thought of you only through your brain waves? More than all was said by thy ever-honour'd, chattering mouth, That condemned and chastised me in the day of Doom, Thou canst not willfully find an antidote To honest Truth, once made a prisoner! 

    I have been in all the changeable matter: in thy jo...

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    YAWNING CHASMS

     

    The ever grayer, useless suns, as an integral part of eternity, are fading. I'd make friends with my fears and nightmares to find my problems! If you've been an anxious fugitive all your life, it's well past time to fill your cellular eye-particles with content. - In a starless, starless landscape, the Evening comes to us with a thick, black soot! 

    In my darling's memory-blots, like jigsaw-pieces, still they appear! - Late comes and late goes the realization that the heart has signalled more fiercely and more excitedly its sure compass-recognition. Anger in the eyes, and anger in the eyes, The other discovers, if he watches him, That we would have suited each other, had we known the Known Judgment first: Were not the fires of our hearts kindled for each other? 

    Now we may boldly lament, curse the profligacy of our days -  We can lick our wounds of soul-war; Feeling and knowing we are very vulnerable! - And the hidde...

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    THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS

     

    The black birds have made their lazy haunts in the branches, Their teeth must be shivering considerably, And their squawking must be the trumpet of fear! Now many more are seeking the sky; Silent Nothing is empty, and its silent indifference covers all. One thinks now only of the shining light, Perhaps it is playing hide-and-seek somewhere!

    We would cling to the crumbs of light as a universal responsibility. All the heartaches of the great world rest on the cold arms of sooty skeleton-trees, and atone: Existence may mend itself, and rise above! The murderous choking cough cuts my throat like a knife-blade, The only cause of my misfortune! - I have sought thee many times, but at the other end of the line there was a dead silence, a moving, tearful plea. - Slowly I was swallowed up and sucked in by self-pity, that I am ultra-bleak even in the field of honest confessions 

    without you! - From beyond, he flashed his throat-cutting voice, and my h...

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    LESSON OF RENUNCIATION

     

    I should take a lesson in resignation. Then I could start again and continue my self-pitying ordeal. I have been the target of so much bullying, so much deliberate smearing, as the hunter of a valuable prey to be hunted! - It should have been realized sooner that the revolving fortune is always on the side of the profiteers and the jumpers, and that the simple, modest helpless are consciously avoided! And the chains of ties - if they are strong and unbreakable - will never break! Yet a precious crumb of beggarly hope In the heart's courtyard shall survive! Even now the stars are turning black and sooty. 

    Sunless, murderous, unfriendly, the day grows on. The many meaningless consolations are still more than if the sick were visited by none! How good it would be to find comfort down here in a mother's bosom, To find new opportunities! To be filled with Hope, - fear has grown thorny thickets around me, and I only move out when absolutely necessar...

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    CONTEMPLATING IN THE DARKNESS

     

    Now, like a dumb, reckless murderer, the mad, frightened Solitude came upon my life: and then I began to say to myself, "If thou dread and fear Tomorrow, at least stretch and cherish the world of Today!"- And among so many endless things, the Goal seemed to gleam, beneath the surface of futilities! 

    Moody pessimism now more than unbearable - when the bad weather comes! The contagion of your moodiness you know - patiently waits around you for your joy! Soon you may not even have money left for necessities. Your stomach is waging a protesting, corroding war against you, and you know: in you z self-pity grows like a scanty tarack-weed! 

    Like the bellowing herd-member, I never deliberately drifted with the crowd. As a sure stubbornness of purpose, I have consciously shut myself off with seven locks, And all my otherworldly dead-white reality has throbbed as one sore wound, While my cowardly heart has beaten. - But here now below, ...

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    PRISON-MIST

     

    The mist now suddenly, surprised, stretches over dark rows of houses, Like a visible spider's web: a universal thick vapour. I am a little bitterer than last summer, and more selfish! I have rebelled many a time to-day against a compulsion that chokes me and breaks me: I am the messenger of my moods in pessimism: Carrying emotions with me! 

    My fortress of loneliness and fear's bastion! I would go in search of new shores of Atlantis, where humanity's humanism of human peace rests! And, beckoning the little orphan, the child mocked for a simpleton, I would bend my oppressed head in the shelter of comforting laps, 

    that comforts me and inspires me to hope. Even the sunset is now a tyrant, With burning flames, with chariots of fire, Painting on the sky its strange cosmos-signs. It churns the hypersensitive tunnels of my stomach with excessive anxiety for the unknown uncertainties of tomorrow! And like some wretched beast of man ...

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    IN THE CONFINE

     

    I am now making a good effort to move silently to the edge of Life. Even looking around myself, there is still a dark crater of clamorous lightlessness outside! I ought to become silent as a pill, like tears in tired and empty eye-sockets, and disappear into the infinite Nothingness, to lose myself like a soundless, silent primeval vacuum in a breathless breathlessness! 

    It is time to grow up the despairing child in me, - though, perhaps, it is better to look at the present over-complicated world with wondering and realizing eyes. - There's that wretched snowfall again: if anyone wants a ruthless foot-breaking in a luscious little plaster coffin, go ahead! 

    Porridge-ice, mirrors, and armour-freezes now all go on and on, and the human body falls, thundering and humiliated, and looks up in mute silence at the grinning wretches: at Winter, who has so treated and mocked him! And in such seemingly relative, no-man's-house gloom, The ...

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    TOOTH AND NAIL

     

    By now the tea was a faint shadow of warm pleasantness, and the filter was like a swamp algae-animal swimming in it. The young man who could survive the cold in shivering annihilation was growing weaker, and secretly realised that perhaps every shelter could be a trap? - For with him went despair and restlessness, and there is no final escape, no way out. 

    Now Existence is stagnant. Molar teeth and wisdom teeth are like glass bells, and the selfishness of common self-pity is mine alone, - it preserves everything inside. For unconsciously in all breathes and eats the thirsty and insatiable instinct for acceptance: I let troubles into the house like a pipe: but to take care of troubles - who can? Who? Indeed, the saying could be true: He who dares wins? 

    And every human thinker - if there are still any under the clouds of executioners, and in great confusion such - is burnt out, killed by the grinding workman-o'-thee, the years that h...

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    ILLUMINATION

     

    Foolish and outcast, I still dared to hope: in the lofty consciousness of a happiness planned! Only now did I realize that Hope itself, with its melted beads of blood, had begun to wane! I whispered in idiotic love. I want to live with you, and together, because you are very important to me! 

    In the immortal chain of existence, the linking, fertile pearl was thyself, and thy character! The deceitful, ruthless will of our fate has robbed me of every vestige of my will. What unknowable, unknown fear, and conscious dread, clutches my heart's purple 

    That now only the dying spots of the blackmailers shine? An emotion that is thought to be annihilated, but which can be escalated to vanity, cannot be destroyed, because the eternal flame of love is constantly nourished, fanned and trained so that the consciousness awakened in the biological instincts does not grow lazy: passion threatens us with an atomic bomb attack,

    if it is un...

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    IN YOUR HAND

     

    Now chimneys still paint the night's thick ruffle: the bearded chimneys of houses are a skirt for pearly stars. The death of the golden-gold trees is long past: Now, in meditations, meditating connections would be seen and unravelled! May they unravel the mysteries of the Gordian knots? - Not by a simple dissection to the extreme, as the Macedonian monarch did his work in one fell swoop, 

    but with rational and scholarly reasoning if need be! - Each summer midnight, Time's balmy sultry saturation, Dripped on me like thick molasses, Yet murderous-constant, breathless I waited, I waited, and I myself believed, That far away, in brown-flame trained fair eyes, Waiting for me alone! 

    My stubborn attention and trust in thee grew day by day with my patience! I wished no cock-fighting for thee: I voluntarily quitted thy love-circuit, to which thou didst only reply, "It was a good joke!" - I wanted you to be a treasure of my exi...

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    BOISTEROUSLY

     

    In the path of motor-cars the frozen vapour would still be wasted: To shards of shimmering stars the human breath with deliberate slowness is broken! - Here the street's wailing wail may never wail again. Morning hangovers frolic and revel in their revelry! The humming vapours of foul and foul speech, - the silence is shattered to splinters in our land! 

    And now the darkness is uncertain enough: in thin, scaly membranes, armour-hard, the frost chases on the smooth asphalt carpet! - Here now the street's wail no more is wailing. The fireflies in the dusky blind are glowing. The trees have exchanged their love for thorned icicles! Like a clod, my clamp-legs prick, tormented by the staggering pain! 


    The skeleton-arms of the trees: ice-cold losers. Crows rest on them, fluttering death-stones. The soul now tightens still more, To reassemble the earthly reckoning, unfolding again: What have I done, and what more could I have d...

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    REALITY-WARNING

     

    Waking from bed, trapped, humiliated, to wake up to the Real: the Universe that can be kept is now suddenly shattered to pieces, as once we were bewitched: the flirtatious winking eyes of eye-balls, a lock of hair left orphaned, or a confession of love now gone for good! - There is no melancholy day that I do not ponder: I have protected a vulnerable lily-stalk, selfless, and at last a discarded, recyclable 

    of recyclable rags, myself included! The stubborn and obstinate opponents of my law and my right are always warning me that there must and can be a better and more beautiful existence within the bounds of tolerance! - Today all dream-vision is shattered: nervous vapours, diamond-shadows of refraction, still fight and quarrel, 

    On my shaggy face: the hamster-tongue of the chubby still remains! - Happy now can only he be Who, with confident and covetous cupidity, The fragile-footed happiness found, That sought not, but only listened t...

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    MUSIC OF DRUMBEATS

     

    In the wasted prison cell of my room, barely seventeen square metres, I received the devastating news: You are married, and I can hardly - I can only - compliment you in verses! You chestnut-eyed, ripe chocolate-haired fairy. Thy frail, dirty shoulders like toothpicks stood guard over thee, Thy rosy heaven-smiling face: all merriment, all mute vulnerability!

    I must not let thee fade from my heart and mind to a sudden memory, and be but a tattered memory, but to my ever-forgetful brain I will make an eternal complaint in a notebook: among my unimportant, trivial things, as immortal eternity, Thou shalt have a deserved place. - For seven full years now my griefs have been barbed, And with their infectious tears thou hast charmed sorrow and bitter despair With thy self-conscious flirtation, thy sunny happiness. And in rock-shattering sobs

    How many a lonely deer on my oak-trees you have cowered! To-day, or perhaps to the distant future, Motherhood, w...

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    BREATH-ARC

     

    There was only one glimmer. Like a chorus of sky-bombs, flying, whistling grenades, the wild hyena roar of the sky when they hit. The unshakeability of adolescence - in vain - I still carry! Perhaps the greatest of all my baneful shots is the indissoluble compliment I have sworn to Someone! 

    - On my shoulders now are multiplying, thickening, unmanageable, and recurring tasks! Soon my midnight and puberty's sorrow will mark another change of era, On proud overtones my midnight and puberty's sorrow, That ladies' hearts did not want my romantic trophies, My sultry dream-visions will quickly sprout within me! I have not whistled of problems so far, 

    I have wandered among people in whispering incognito. The day's end came with the fearful goblins of night, And as a lesser trouble, as a surplus, I was once set aside - I'll be forgiving. Time, even now, rushes on like a maddened express:

    I should slowly find a com...

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    SEASONABLE NIGHT

     

    Now Time blooms more and more ice-flowers, thorns of frozen silence, wire-barriers: silent assassins - the air sifts mists of itself, and sifts mists of itself: sorrows, bitternesses, self-pity float like boats from the lake of broken looks. Now Winter starts a heart-war, the frozen ice-rocks are rattled by the empty frost - she will not come, because they will not let the deer-eyed girl come for me, for whom I once fought and struggled with my pessimism! 

    And still the wounded dirt of the alley-smelling city barely clears. Rather like a choking, thick tar, It grows as the darkness must descend. Thirty years beyond the mirror, yawning, you find an old man: The contented existence has fallen by his side, - For he knew it, and proclaimed it, and because he alone willed it so! Our dreams shall return no more - the rainbow-possibility of our imagination May be for prodigal posterity! 

    Beside me the lonely prophet: the three-hent cone of the...

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    TABLE TO CITY

     

    The milky mist slowly settles over the steaming valley, and the dawn mist embraces the old-age veterans of the mountains. Clustered houses are visible on the widening horizon, and the worries are thickening. One is still sharpening one's razor blade to prepare for the coming years, and more and more anxiously, rudely, stressfully, one searches and searches for what else could be saved? 

    Sitting on a couch, where time and old age would visit him with a walking stick, and not even noticing in his two glass eyes the uncertainty and despair of his existence? In mud-wounded barns thou wander'st still, Seeking thy nook, seeking thy shelter, - Under the torn sky, in the sure prison of darkness, Thou treadest alone! 

    With thundering splinters it approaches, and will hit you if - if you are not careful of a careless firecracker: sudden minute-men, who have outgrown themselves, now dictate the Order, and in the self-sobering cold-shower-m...

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    SUBMERGED CONSCIOUSNESS

     


    I wanted to lie in your arms, to bow my orphaned, boyish head. So I dreamed of heaven, of possible fulfillment! In the halos of found harmony, without the old consciousness of barriers and ropes, to bathe in the dark stream of your bug-eyed eyes, - and to feel: my life is not in vain, that I need you! Thy fine braid of beautifully curved, veined hair would embrace me, not choking, but as gently as a luxuriant ivy, And teach me from this world the lesson of brave, uplifted stand and hold, though all seems to shrink! 


    The dreaming imagination has now deceived me, It has both lied and failed me - I would have flirted with the Kharübdis throat of the wave- Depths; I would have faced the passing, but only if you had squeezed my hand with all your might. The twilight would have made us explode rainbows, and while volcanic eruptions with celestial badges

    We would find the earthly wonder, the infinite in each other. I would have...

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    IN THE LOOK

     


    In the untold moment, when the pearl of truth was shattered in your dark eyes, I saw shooting stars shining in a haloed wreath. And at once we did not touch ourselves, but our hearts became each other's watchful, caring keeper! In the lake of my soul I let thy unforgettable face bathe, And we were one sentimental, human bond: Thou and I, and it was good to forget and leave behind us the troubles and sorrows!

    - And now that the delicate veins of your nerves no longer tingle with your raging blood for me, where shall I put you now instead of your sunny smile of the winter greeting me with its vulgar power. my heart was broken in a shape that was changing, so that you could put it back together again, and why was it necessary, was it necessary to break my wounded self again, so that I would know: I was only a plaything in your vile flirting campaign? 

    Oh, say! If thou canst tell me, and confess, what shall become of him who, having ...

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    THE POSSIBILITY OF EXISTENCE

     

    In the placenta-deep, a tummy dweller quietly naps, sending messages. The Madonna-faced fairy is still patient and kindly examining her belly, looking at it! Oh, the first, tiny chubby angel-germ of a new existence, is now sprouting its wings! Now in the heart's bliss it moves in thick stream-flow, Sends forth its pearls of true pearl, Rich and rich in content.

    O little, blessed unknown guest, strange planets of this great world! - While in the cellular caverns of the abdominal cavity, like a glorious lamp-light, thou seekest and searchest for a possible way out, thy future mother's swan-hands she opens diligently and gently: now the celebrating soul begins a silent lullaby, offering prayers to Nature's gracious God! 

    Joconda-eyed, blessed chalice of love, that hath lifted Being to the altar, With a shower of kisses, with prostrate humility, Thou hast received the hearts that love thee! A common Damocles fate hovers over us, that...

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    PLAINT-WALLS

     

    Soon they will leave me - like my acquaintances, my Years! The embittered memories, like moments of yew-flower, May once in a while, if I will, rise again: If I am not enveloped by the amber tendrils of Nothing, like conscious indifference and boredom! I shall stare at broken and cracked highway-arches, if I should honestly look in the mirror. 

    I am neither Adonis, nor in the camp of the first, a victorious strategist, nor a warlord! I could be satisfied with the cheap smell of mashed potatoes and salty slices: "You eat too much anyway!" - The others barked their barbs at me! - And perhaps even in death I might be a slug who dared to make any effort to get to the 

    To the Atlantic shores of immortal love. And if my blood often leaks through the caverns of my holey heart, where was then the self-helpful, blessed face that laughs and laughs at all misery? - Is my eye or my will weary in seeking? In mapping the True? - I know not ...

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    WAKE TO REALITY

     


    To hide, to escape. With the cheaply-measured weights of Tomorrows on my limbs, painted green-blue by the aching vengeance! I should hide - yes, hide in the deep hiding-places of blessed-hearted mothers. Unfold while you can the unknown safety-net to shelter and protect you! - Or in diligent mole mode, digging tunnels of thickening caverns underground: field worms,

    My real lack cannot be complete, cannot be whole: my nagging conscience plays daily question and answer with me, and recognises my lack. - It is the weight of the task that pulls me back: the responsibility of pen and paper keeps calling me back, pulling me back to the sobering consciousness; I cannot yet leave, nor can I yet be part of the contemplative Nothing, 

    in whose kingdom I shall be transformed as a degraded dross, under persistent, unwearied patience! The law of hiding binds me, compels me to forget my humanity, and in the abysses of my selfishness I may seek my ...

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    HORIZON LINE-ISLAND

     

    In homeless, orphaned flocks, ravens chatter on skeleton-like branches: black bones, charred, about to cool! They spared not the chill shadows of seasons while they could, For the stealthy flicker of the fading sun Is now, perhaps, for ever ceased! The only possible connection between two lovers was, That they clung to each other by navel-strings, captive to each other's safety- Social gravity prejudiced all 

    decapitates you, it doesn't want to know you, because it never asks! With clenched fists, clenched teeth they swirl, hoofing, in a gloomy Time-vacuum, - Thoughts shiver with reason, for warming pity! Icy muteness shed to execution, Murderous air through the body's tunnels seeps! - From time sunk, now would be so good a satisfaction to draw Thee forth, 

    that thy blushing fury might unveil on thy face the blood-rose essence! O! - It must be too late, it cannot be! The memory of the past is now easily deceived: in vain! Th...

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    SAUNTER-LOSS

     

    Even now, with the watchword of deliberate calm, The wandering clouds wander, three stone mountains with their curved muscular ridges Gently spreading in the bosom of the fertile valley, Standing with unruffled conviction the siege of the World! And as I watched the foolishly melancholy and hot-headed nature, I could have imagined how we embraced each other in our last moments: heart-broken, fused 

    Like weary, drunken shipwrecked men, Who quench their thirst with passion's flame Instead of drops of water: In flesh, in bone, in blood-blood-blue, And in the beating channels of the vascular walls, All essence is filled when you are around me! My soul, tormented by long reveries, now rests with thee at last! - And in any way 

    I could not wistfully make pilgrimage to thee, Hoping that with thy kisses' immortal flowers Thou may'st yet comfort me! What more could I do for thee? You tell me! I was defending the budding hopes of our ...

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    Impressionable-processes


      
    That the complex and organic instinct-processes of the soul have thus come together and become influenceable, which are involuntarily integrated into the network of social processes and not only in a helpless, servile way, allowing them to simultaneously open and crush the petals of the yearning soul-pieces: they are thrown out of their solidly imagined balance by the disorganized system of the Whole.

    The being of the body as a whole prepares itself for a general lamentation when it is no longer able to show its sincere-unselfish face. Unbearable, shameful emptiness - a total silence drowned in harmonies becomes less bearable. All at once, everything has entered a vacuum-free space: an inner, domestic landscape.

    Some familiar ache penetrated the proud, organic cell wall, to then drum a tachycardic alarm to the desperate brain - Billog-burning is necessary to burn unconditional traces, to learn once and for all that "some" onl...

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    VISUAL LIFE

     

    This year too there has been New Year's cheer, a boisterous, bohemian shower, Winter's busy, busy, busy, minute by minute, has suddenly produced its merciless killers: bearded icicles stood guard under almost every eave, - if anyone should stray, they would fall on their backs and stab them! 

    Tearing stars of flakes fell from the sky, And one might - like a landmine of cacophony - Crunch like warming slices of toast. In a terrible sky-earth assault Against judging Nature, man can have no word - In dim moonlight now bathe human star-gazes, Man can scarce survive the bread-winning:

    He drags, he drags his ever lazier legs, Worn out by six flights of twenty, An unquestioning, unquestioning robot, - He wonders: how much I could not do for my toiling family, When the raindrops dance on the ground, The sky too, in pain, ponders, weeps. 

    - Man is waning, he cannot avoid passing away, and cannot befriend the sacred laws of mort...

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    Room with a view


      
    My wandering soul, like a fearful, diligent ghost, slept in my room somewhere yet it seemed in the restrained chorus of nightmares and stray rustles, tiny threats, the yellow moon flickered silvery.

    In the next room my father and mother snored loudly. Their nervous, otherworldly unconsciousness wandered in and out of their souls. Above my head swam the jackal heads of my shame, grinning in death. Fluttering and dancing in pitch-dark depths.

    Their grinning sniggering made me urinate, my sweat stumbled between the shutter-traps of my forehead. And in the astonishing heartbeats I experienced, there was an unexpected turn. In opening doorways, my mother's worried angelic gaze comforted, watched.

    I, a boy accustomed to another state of repose, vomited from my aching, lost soul the childish curses of my childish soul until I succeeded in cursing this muddled, undeserving world. With an aching heart set for a heart attack, drenc...

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    Case study


     
    Your nerves need a peaceful rest. Your body should have peace now, a harmonious balance. You yourself must have known long ago: tomorrow you will be confronted for good with your shipwrecked, once helpless doppelganger, seen as yourself, childishly naive, whiningly whining. Yet unknowingly everyone could feel inside there was a self-consuming restlessness.

    Where something worthwhile might happen. "It is better to lie low, stoically!" - says his sober, deliberate mind. I say: This is wrong! You may no longer find the happiness you have always desired; you would have embarked on expeditionary adventures unknown on ruinous ramparts of last moments, if you could.

    Your mind is still unyielding, restless. Do not let prodigality probe its members. Rather, rage like wild, untameable tornadoes and try to build more relationships. - Deliberately avoid the snares of vain self-deceptions and deceptive promises. See your wisecracking, useless t...

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    Contemporary wound-scratching


      
    I have never received the redemptive pardon of criminals. I was forced to lick my stigma scars like a dog, until I was totally disappointed and totally disappointed with full-blown worms in the midst of false prophets. For no matter how small, whether it is a scar or a scout's scar or a car accident-induced study wound, the bone-cracking, fierce-galadic pain reaches to the very core of the soul and penetrates like a digestive poison.

    To endure silently out of the circle, its fate may at any time become accustomed to man's vulnerability, and with will and patience, even with hand-holding dreams in his hands. It is increasingly difficult to behave as a human being in a world beyond the eyelids. It would be better to be a cowering beast, though forced to live, to tell the future on the pages of the codex of your existence, to decipher: how many more trials, how many more heart-rending universal disappointments must we endure and endure?! -<...

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    UNFINISHED BUSINESS

     

    Like an island where Time has stood still, and your expressive gaze penetrates like a scalpel into my kidney. Thy cheek in the reddish glow of thy cheek Thy mischievous smile plays and hesitates with me! In my vulnerable heart, years of refined thorns have taken aggressive root, And only your gentle, nurturing hand can heal! To thee would I bend my oppressed head: can the yearnings of human evil-doers ever be at last

    daily? How can our two heartbeats, on secret biological pathways, be entwined, tell me? And can the half-hearted, pompous will conceal nothing but that we have both been reduced to cowards at the decisive moment? 


    I knew that our pleasant little flirtation was over sooner than we had previously thought. Sooner had our half-hearted, hesitant confession ended than our sudden, gasping breath before certain drowning! Did you really think so? Is that what you wanted? Please, answer me! No compulsion! Why did the immortality o...

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    Case study


     
    Your nerves need a peaceful rest. You need peace for your body now, a harmonious balance. You yourself must have known long ago: tomorrow you will be confronted for good with your shipwrecked, once helpless doppelganger, seen as yourself, childishly naive, whiningly whining. Yet unknowingly everyone could feel inside there was a self-consuming restlessness.

    Where something worthwhile might happen. "It is better to lie low, stoically!" - says his sober, deliberate mind. I say: This is wrong! You may no longer find the happiness you have always desired; you might have embarked on expeditionary adventures unknown on ruinous ramparts of last moments, if you could.

    Even so, your mind is unyielding, restless. Do not let prodigality probe its members. Rather, rage like wild, untameable tornadoes and try to build more relationships. - Deliberately avoid the snares of vain self-deceptions and deceptive promises. See your wisecracking, usele...

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    For stretcher


     
    Watch out for the downtrodden, humiliated victims. I am stunned beyond amazement. Fallen, snarling crypt-faces stare dumbfounded from the trench-slashed faces. The warming, acrid smell of urine pools around their feet.

    It's as if a repeated fact or situation spirals over and over again. There is no way to escape from it. I peer out of my eyes into the murmuring fog-filled landscape. I wonder if they see and sense in themselves the unbearable probability of their oppressed existence.

    The recluse-prophet also looks into his future with tired but still curious child's eyes. A distracted, creaking obsession unfurls brainwashed thoughts. Stupidity has taken up permanent residence. Who poisonous seeds are scattered by the propaganda media.

    The subterranean state of dull darkness has persisted on solid, unbreakable ground for ever longer.

    In each other's words and deeds some would carve the murderer's knife, if t...

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    No handrail


      
    ...For now the world around me is mad to the core. Laws, human dignity today can mean nothing to me, and nowadays, where there used to be an asphalted pavement, there is a blind macadam road. More and more people are explaining the consistency of faddish bargaining, but none of them has the courage to go out in front of crowds of people and act. The age of willful indifference to back-turning has arrived.

    Patients are crying in stinking mouse-hole hospitals, as all decent money goes to the private sector. Those who would heal first - on a sure thing basis - would rather make a will at exorbitant prices: they all know that they could be sent to the operating table at any moment for misunderstood medical malpractice. And even if there was liability, the doctor in question acts like Pilate when life-saving responsibility is no longer his.

    Today, the real, most important, necessary matters have been deliberately overlooked, and instead the...

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    Ownership in reverse


      
    The backward, witnessing Man always looks backwards tasting the burger-glass of his cuddly history. Preparing to set out to create a new Columbus life somewhere else, but his compass of aching homesickness keeps pulling him back.

    He knows that when something is finally finished and the characters and statistics say goodbye to each other, Reality becomes bitter and sour. To start a new theme is sometimes pointless, when repetition, as an easy cure, is often better; he arranges past stories into a picture, as a secret figure of certain death.

    How much easier, surely, it would be if one could read a text from doodle-lines. It would be fitting to be connected to something very high, organically. Clinging to the bench of his comfort, his happy unconscious gullibility sits on his tesze-tosha and daily allows himself to be eviscerated, to be exploited for his invested trust. It gives up its trust, offered to it in a sluggish, irredeemable way...

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    Beggar's will


      
    It has imposed itself on everything, and everything is now a rotten vomit because it has seen itself. Moving beneath the surface, cocktail-swilling, champagne-swilling V.I.P. exclusive evenings, insidious snake hisses, double entendres, universal sunken rot. Career graveyards at a loss become compulsive shapeshifters in pursuit of larger goals, looting dreams. In addition to a carefree lifestyle, it is necessary to take on grief and dirt with a straight face. Sooner or later, even the absolute winners will be driven out of the race by the victors.

    Only Death can bring comfort and consolation. To body and soul, one by one, it now offers the semblance of equality. - Daily shedding their reptilian-veined skins, the Janus-like Angels, saints, pretending prophet-greats. Whose daily ruined lives they ruin - They notice nothing but the virtue, if it pops, or if they lack the necessary sum To preserve the ruins of their sham happiness.

    It may ...

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    Split in two


      
    The difference is that I don't just know: I also feel that the toilets of public hospitals have been out of toilet paper since time immemorial, and that there is always a need for a Hollywood movie star to buy into the community with good intentions, or to immediately offer his million-dollar honorarium as a self-help quick fix. It is rare, at least, if not unheard of, that even hell can be a more pleasant and comfortable place than the emergency room, where people die every second.

    One thing is certain: the experimental era of foolish, ready-to-do pomposity is long over; why should we need cheap consolation when all cheap, handout promises are grotesque grimaces and pseudo-mirrors. The good, sheep-people will just buy it and believe it, but they must always be shocked by the sad reality; here, lasting progress and change may never come!

    Because it is not possible that asphalted roads are torn up to make them passable, while the ax...

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    Existence of Finches


      
    Human life today is increasingly panic-stricken. It is as if it had been assembled from hurricane elements into a disingenuous, temporary Order, to shape and destroy in a trinity of career-fame-fame-ambition, spinning in circles. The insidious, flirtatious, insidious offers of flirtation hidden behind the cloak of disguised courting intentions are immediately detectable. The bribeable, money-hungry soul has also been transformed into a thin shell of algae in unventilated swamps.

    Wrinkle-free, blinding toothpaste moths willingly want us to believe that there can still be a point to the sweetness of romance. The glamour of a talmudic suspicion superstitions the workaholic slaves' eager wills daily: they have appropriated the exotic spectacle - whenever they wanted to.

    Shrieking stars, watchful rodents mop incessantly, arm-in-arm. Wounds, unhealed tragedies, have recently been inflicted by the persistent exposure of private lives. The...

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    Giveaway-simphony


      
    The greedy desire for possession is pushing forward, burrowing with a thousand shadows unceasingly. Home's poisoned form worms its treasured fruits and the calvary of the average consumer man unprotected in his home is embodied in a single blow: it surrounds him, suffocates him, lavishes him with everything until he is suffocating.

    Slowly, nothing can grow without interest, without ulterior motives; food, drink, love, or career - a free-thinking, creative-nature soon grows cold. Where can the saviour-creative mind sneak quietly?! When, to everyone's delight, the scandal reaches unbearable heights, even those who hoped for five minutes of fame are crushed. But you can't trust the occasional mall cat, testosterone-gigolo.

    The world's most influential congregation is breeding signal-bearers like parasitic plants, and there is no longer any reason to try to protect and create the future in other ways - syrupy legitimacy is ...

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    Distance mirror


     
    Surely, halfway into the future, everyone will have at least enough self-loathing to dare to say, to dare to admit the word: "I made a mistake!" - In the trapped webs of silent answers, any number of apologies could have given birth to a healthy tact, and perhaps it would have been easier to stay, if this great deceiver and swindler of loyalty had not been standing guard everywhere on the picket lines. Deceptions, and renewed promises of vows, are again caught in devious minds: while he deceives others, deceives others, and pretends in good faith, without noticing that his vile life is a mere exhibitionist self-deception, splashed with syrupy reality.

    He does not enjoy the shocking moment of unexpected pregnancies one bit, since every minute he can swell to the size of a killer whale and at all costs he radically pursues a body-control diet, since he can see on the faces of his closest relatives the extra kilos he has gained in happiness. Ha...

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    Mouldering golden spit


      
    Long-necked, sticky mass-Time's long-born, money-ordered, cobbled-together worldly monster: dark, giddy, panting-like Pegasus birds that carry the manes of foam on themselves. From under the stench of advanced putrefaction ever rises the stench of the ferret-goat. Exotic, feathered, blonde Amazons also began to bounce and then stink. Floating down a river of labyrinths, a career has led to a cheap reputation.

    The dotless Infinity, it is feared, can no longer be contained. Scarce homeliness builds a nest in brainwashed minds. Even pre-playable battles keep receding, instead of always breaking forward. Unleashed malice, jealous envy, prudish vanity: if one stresses too much, the tachycardic heart can explode like a bomb, like a fractured volcanic cone.

    In the cracks of exhibitionist skin, like infected tattoos, the will of greed burns its marks.- With lion's teeth were born in the old days the wicked burglars, who could only purs...

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    Wandering souls


      
    On the webs of stretched poles, the fierce memories of my existence, entwined and fierce, float in order, yet reappear. They bear sins fallible or guilty as well as the orphaned restless ones, who can hardly care whether it is day or dark. Nor can the protagonists be more with their done things than mere pause-signs; their cages are rattled by wandering ghouls when they are called. Soberness and indecision are present in their behaviour, as well as in their trailing words.

    The ornamentation of scars done needs the more half-hearted, the more all-pleasing care; none can want to lose unworthily the prayers of the sobbing true-kisses shed for those who yet may have remained faithful and pure for their humanity.

    In distraught yet pleasing redemptive confusion, as phase shifts, the why of split confessions burst forth, "I need you! Don't leave me!" - Two silent looks of speech when with a single will then no excuses, cheap why...

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    Mounted mirror image


      
    Sooner or later, every mirror image that has stepped out of itself turns back in on itself. Its forgivable, wise wrinkles from the moments of marcona times just as they blossom and become one with the maturity hidden in the depths. Eras and human relationships are reassessed. It does no harm to keep the malfunctions of the spiritual household in order with due regularity. Memories fall like dry leaves into the depths: they fall under, fade away in a windless, space-scented haze. Even so, memory becomes more and more fragmented, more and more leaky.

    The present always hides its past, while the messages always reach their destination. - The silently stretched hieroglyphic speech of hands is self-identical with the tenderness of touch. The telepathic melody of glances echoes through the cliffs of the soul...

    The smallest poles of budding bodies are infiltrated by a tinkling bliss that both encourages and tingles. The Soul, even in its agi...

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    Navigation collisions


      
    A life violated, like a concoction or a legacy that should no longer be brought to light, for it is so secret-secret. Like stretched skin, the epithelial cells of our dead memories are piled up on top of each other: molecules, cells - the bent man degrades himself into a petty, opportunistic beggar. Everyone longs to know himself. His distant goals are long overdue, his cheap jelly has long since dried, stuck like glue.

    Deliberate dread, fear is humiliated by self-harming prejudice. Hippo-clouded mirages sway the simple desires of busy life. Fooled by many with seductive promises of a future that ignorant, despicable saints can make worthy, heaps of career dreams. A forced desertion of blind, pathetic expectations awaits the common people, that they could not reveal, nor show the morality of their essence. They have had to endure, to bear, the fact that they can never turn their cherished, simple plans into nothing from angelic miracles.

    ...

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    On the wall of age


      
    Unnecessary apologetic sentences like promised speeches flow easily through angry, leaky brains like Léthe water. Even holy water is like a dehydrated smoothie. Even so, the wounds multiplied unconsciously, like fiery traces of prison burned into the skin. Unfinished Saturn tattoos hide a memory and a sad tear.

    Unchecked, grief and joy explode; objectively alienated... - The charred precious minutes, I fear, hold almost nothing more. They are lost without a trace. In the fading twilight the shadows seem more and more brave. - Lonely Generation Ys drift on regardless of age, for they too can no longer believe that words with magic powers must be followed by deeds.

    In our country in transition, the smell of a total, paroling dictatorship is increasingly pervading: leaden, lousy, bribe-shaming. Like a swampy marshland, where only water-soluble weed trails and bubble-gum pits grow. Pale, emaciated Pharaoh masks the chained Freedom, ...

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    Postmodern zoo


      
    The man of the present postmodern Age is inoculated with greedy rawness, with deliberate business-like leeching and palaver at the same time, like a constantly parasitic leech parasite, inedible in itself. The human enigma, which has deceived and defrauded itself a million times, shows its ever more advantageous physiognomy as a vile Janus face.

    The teardrop, playing hide-and-seek from time to time, is like a cracked eggshell, a precise and accurate depiction of eviscerating conditions, so that the more profits reaped in surplus by the methods of predatory economies must be pocketed and put aside by those whose intention it is to open a business here. - A bellowing mass of sheep, a gang of scrabbling, disorderly mobs, divided like sheep, run, howl, cling to a cheap Black Friday action with a free password, because they have a single, pure goal in front of them, brainwashed: to buy and want.

    The risk of free robbery tends to chain them ...

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    Conscious exhaustion


      
    I need to wait in a state of expectant readiness. The millstone of sin's redeeming mill is not much - it's almost overwhelming. As if in the beating of my heart, another, more secret, darker melody, which only a few listen to, is ready and mingling in my heartbeat. Forever startled, my orphan-eye listens at every age, scanning in search of honest-to-goodness romance. The ambrosial medicine of all-filling All-waterfalls.

    Many a time have I visited the bumping slopes of idle bliss. The baroque barge of voiced, silenced glances is a ricochet-like lust- For undivided, One-glances have indeed their magic power and secret keys, With which they open soul-petals in their delicate harmony.

    I cling to the recurring, happier images of my memories, till my prayer fills the superficial complexity of things real and imagined. I wring a cosmic emptiness from myself whenever I must still play honestly and truthfully the greedy but deceitful de...

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    Banished from the world


      
      Watch out! He who survives here by free thinking, may now lie low as a sneaky, alamusian leech. A talmudic and sordid cancer of brainwashed thoughts runs through the interest highway of proxy cultures: would Yorick and Hamlet still be doomed?

    The executioner takes up the stacks of paper and throws them like kindling between the tongues of hungry flames to foam. Every movement and automatic is now silent and meaningless. They have long since been disabused of the chain of theories, of the need only to be correct, only to approve whatever sacred, individual conviction may mean.

    The yearning devotion is like a bandaged mummy, and is released, for every tiny gap is there for the ghost of a tiny intellect to peep through. Vast masses of people are bred into a horde huddle by psychological and manipulative means, by the automatism of mechanisms as well as fixed actions - nothing can be avoided.

    Is misdirection considered the...

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    Apocalypse Doctrine


      
    The cyclones of hope have tempted us each time on the heights of the spirals of Being. Each time we try to leap, to confess, to endure the daily toil of tomorrow.

    Hoodless cities are shunned and even in our evacuated dreams we cannot be fully equal and independent. An orphaned flower-stalk might endure on the windswept shore - its petal flesh like our repressed bodies.

    Every crypt-face with cryptic hieroglyphic gazes back at us like a moon. The tender, unselfish devotion is as beautiful as a child's hair. In many cases, the present becomes a silent destroyer of faces: a desolate hive, a refuge where only the privileged can gain sufficient admittance.

    Snowfall, hustle and bustle, menace, the ruin-dwellers of the underground world are soon revealed by the desolate, desolate darkness of the seasons, ever cut off by the mischievous light of the seasons, playing hide-and-seek in the tunnels of the chip tunnels.

    In a ...

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    Crypt Fugitives


      
    In our world, sparkling stars shine here and there incessantly. Our stars shine in our stars, in our stars, in our stars. Each vain mirror is also a slavish, disgraced shipwreck of itself, like the truer but tearful eye under the mascara of mascara, which can never lie again. Like illuminated lamps, the spiky coral of islands beneath the diva's and the dandy's downy feet, he who does not look hard enough, or thinks too highly of himself, will stumble.

    The incarnate hieroglyphics of our language, once of the days of the eye, are still jealously guarded by a few prophet-writers, relegated to ivory towers. They demand the introduction of new censorship rules in the Acharkodon, while mummy-voiced crypt-runners with their scalpel-snouts negate and persecute unsuspecting fugitives. No amount of loyalty-demonstrating morality or hand-holding empathy is worth anything, at most on the surface.

    Diamond necklaces balance on the beautiful ...

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    Coatings


     
    Some time must still be spent here of necessity. All Time is a tremor in space. It would have been good to know Babylonian examples. What good was it to set up the formula of theories of time for ourselves?! Silent resignation to the immutable, quietly treading in miniature time-trains.

    Why is it necessary to face each day with anxiety the permanent states of Being-destruction? As when shadows huddle in the sleepless darkness, only to be incinerated by the sparking change of days by the fear that feeds itself.

    Exiled mother-in-law tidings could not be counted. Like loose plaster that is starting to mould, old age is getting more and more dishevelled. It hangs in sprouting curls on the wax-sketch of faces. The whimper of an animal crying out in its dreams when it has no one to turn to. In a Hatholdian wilderness, even the feeble man trembles to survive his last, livable moments with selfish, accountable will.

    In the gradually deepen...

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    Exiled from the world


      
      Watch out! He who survives here by free thinking, may now lie low as a sneaky, alamusian leech. A talmudic and squalid cancer of brainwashed thoughts runs through the interest highway of proxy cultures: would Yorick and Hamlet still be doomed?

    The executioner takes up the stacks of paper and throws them like kindling between the tongues of hungry flames to foam. Every movement and automatic is now silent and meaningless. They have long since been disabused of the chain of theories, of the need only to be correct, only to approve whatever sacred, individual conviction may mean.

    The yearning devotion is like a bandaged mummy, and is released, for every tiny gap is there for the ghost of a tiny intellect to peep through. Vast masses of people are bred into a horde huddle by psychological and manipulative means, by the automatism of mechanisms as well as fixed actions - nothing can be avoided.

    Is misdirection considered th...

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    Shadow shapes from Helsingor


     
    On the point of a needle, Hamlet's sad ghost lives and is forced to exist. Across Elsinore, Hyena winds tear his clothes, rattling wildly. Better would it be to go to the dry desert of the Ninevehs, seen by the sand-grains, than to destroy the nimbus of the uncovered daily.

    Our bad dreams are always with us. To walk the treadmill of bumpy donkey-ladder careers in the footsteps of opportunists and profiteers. A secret-keeper is seldom if ever the setting, horizon-orbiting star. Years from now the aged executioner will wrap his murder-rope around his stiffened neck.

    Splintering piles of bone-skulls now coil everywhere. Their open, sinister poisons drip down to open hearts the vicious juices of secret vials. Yorick's hollow teeth with the careful precision of the great gravediggers, a few sharply thrust.

    Truth will be rewarded when new and more exotic Ophelia dare to commit suicide under the weight of their sorrows. On chains ...

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    Poisoned stimulus branch


      
    We have all been poisoned by cheap mass cultures that have been degraded into a hopelessly sickening cesspool, as the prophets of Nineveh warned us all of old, and since then no new questions or answers have been allowed.

    "The spirit plunders and steals in any case", said many, whose changing tongue is as much in favour of utility and not nobility today as it was in the past. Because everyone was nodding their heads in sheep's clothing, and had long known that they had to lick their arses and strive to survive without any upkeep, since they had to live with their pockets bulging. They made the truth, which could be coloured, into a blur. How many more autopsy corpses can the resurrection wait for?!

    Sooner or later, the spirit of plundering and plundering will come back to everyone. They wash each other's fat-ass stains as if they could be cleaned easily.

    They would tear our stigma-ridden skin and hang it to ...

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    Poisoned


      
    Our overrun lives will be ruled by an agitated striving. Like a pile of cake, we are creeping closer and closer into the lives of others, to be part of something that was never ours to begin with.

    Mud-flows of mere Being, still with us, confess and tremble - whether our hesitant or negative words are fearful virgin-white. In cold nooks the startled eternity loves to play hide-and-seek.

    Existence at once plucks and grinds our skulls with ten nails, cleaving them. Surely it often happens that we might be better, nobler, if we could learn to nurse iron.

    We have so much of the elixir of our pains, that it lives in us like a scar or an ulcer. A lasting rest in obscurity can seldom warm us, for in the littleness that awaits us we must learn to appreciate the industrious daily.

    For there are now more and more vultures, who want the new liver chunks at any price. Even a rotting clover or a wormy apple might be good for some...

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    Gradual rotting


      
    The fingers of our haste forehand bend the lead weights of our transgressions. In times of tormented cleverness, the mind is already caught up in the corticism. While some are in the depths of their souls, others are lounging, like dogs that want to chew their cud.

    With agonizing joy they cosmeticize and mutilate each other. Unhappiness-almost for the umpteenth time the Universe wags a cautious finger. Wounded bodies in their pain trample on each other like the most insidious envious, and while the clots of the heart are rolled in honey, the green-glowing little jewels of hope hardly sweeten.

    A married life sticks to us like years of worn underwear, and wide-eyed charm-mixers can dabble at will. Their darkness is public and lucid. The seeing eyes peer through their tiny keyholes at the details of the world.

    The traitors and the bribe-takers can no longer be hidden by eternity. The tiny buttons of the soul are sooner closed to...

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    Quotable lightness


      
    Our useless, saleable existence has become a shame. For from shameful, faded masses of humanity no noble Enkiduk nor pitiful Ophelia were wrought. Awning wings were silently drawn before our cataracted eyes. For it is always a painful realisation to him who sees in us the map of old ages.

    The instincts of rocks and molecules have been deceived and deceived by the hungry careerist's bed, and the greedy sense of success. Often the hope of sleep has become hurtful. The mind was distorted by the exhibitionist pose assumed, - instincts dragged the impressionable thought after them on a leash.

    The brainwashed gangs of brainwashed idiots can never be a culture-creating, redemptive mission - it is better to listen to a more restless, self-consuming time of judgment broken down into tones - our fearful memory is only reeled up by the tongue-twisting play of dirty, tabloid slang and barbarisms.

    Is this now deliberately accelerated ...

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    The eye-catcher


      
    Your existence itself is already a pathetic fat, splinter-nakedness. You have opened your shy, sneaky eyes countless times over horizons - you knew: you set out on a wandering untrodden wanderings with unwanted intentions, your doubts and fears that you could not find a companion, no matter how you tried and wanted to.

    You yourself are a voiceless star down here. You would tremble and tearfully curse, if you could, the widening void of the Universe and the infinite, for you have fled through your whole wretched life as a deceived exile. Thou wouldst open thy frayed tongue wide, And pour it like a destructive torrent upon the evil host Of dog-dogs and dog-roarers.

    Like a diligent fool, thou hold'st the rings of thy soul in thy closed palm, To show them once chosen to another, perhaps for ever. The earthy form of your dithering, defenceless being, belly-lovable, could not be enough for the modern woman-corpses to map you in full real...

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    Inter-operability


      
    There opposite the crystal mirror which can't pretend that you've passed the fast-moving, proud years and it hurts when you feel abandoned by a man, a parent, a friend. Opposite you the clock. You listen with curiosity and eagerness to its clacking purring voice, trying to decipher the ancient mystery it beats upon your greying temples: "Must you still be alive at all costs?" Why not get off this confused, deliberate merry-go-round now?!

    Someone has challenged your broken digital hologram to a duel. You click old photo apps on your computer, to see if you can recapture what you once were. Like fattened-up, pathetic mice, people playing at being taken advantage of, like cats quietly following their selfish shadows with fierce diligence, wander in front of you.

    Now something inside you clicks with an unintelligible sound. Your existence is surrounded by old circles of power and career, as if a shipwrecked man cannot jum...

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    Zone Zero


      
    I'm afraid I'll fall asleep at last, until someone finds me stealthily. They'll see me no more in the whirl of desire-digging evenings. The defiant web of my loneliness will be my only refuge at night.

    Existence is now in every case rushing down the precipices. I am a ghost of this crisis, of this present time totally turned inside out. anyone can be crucified, ruined as a scapegoat, because the more profit-hungry world is always more ruthless. By the time anyone heeds the call, the soul is staggering inside. You can't see through the gutting urban jungle that has settled over you.

    Why is it that we all look to hidden, pathetic little Anonymous for meaning, when there is not one who can act with dignity?! Why does everything have to be carefully debated, or brought up for re-criticism, for speculative criticism, when it has already been proven to work?

    Why can't the erroneous theses of those who suffer fro...

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    Careless foreboding


      
    Shrinking itches the foolish left soul, While the age that has passed brightens again. A voice that seems innocent screams through a palpable wave of silence, to perchance be buried forever. A romantic vampire hair-bite, a sweet fruit-taste of kisses - all before and behind, the invisible follows its victims into the desolate absence of spheres.

    In the dark, in the unknown, the homo sapiens juveniles jog their thirty-two teeth. They blackmailed themselves further by their delusive emotions, when they stared into the mirror and spoke self-congratulatory hymns to their narcissistic images.

    There should be a fitting account of many, many accumulated, enriched, tiny, tiny sufferings: inarticulate, gaping movements of the mouth to regurgitate primeval instinct-titles. And though our senses may naturally blossom, even the vain, conceited boasts of the frail body, to pluck the petals of invisible roses is unlawful if the sentient soul within ...

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    THREE-TRIANGLES


      
    Just like the industrious coupe in a bazaar of give-and-take goods, objects z people-to-people social, simplified relationships are driven by interest and profit. Every momentary prosperity is a false hallucination. Morals, noble character, helpful intentions are dwindling - the roots of centuries-old trees are shrinking, because there is always a risky deal with a richer profit that takes away the livability or the oxygenated, cleaner air of the space.

    Only the ingenious can win out of backward-looking compulsions. Bargainers, powerful people, suspect their compromising decisions to be flawless. Its hair-root roots in our flesh are being chewed up faster and faster by the decomposing dross. Behind tired hopes, can honest truth still prevail?!

    The échoes of purification are becoming increasingly difficult to implement. We have the worms of alamus inside us, while the doves of loyalty drop on all alike. Only a few take advantage ...

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    Immutable form


      
    Puffing, weed-hawk gaze is neatly broken. As if all men were already casual myopic. Do we wonder that once everyone had a human face and spoke to people with accepting tolerance?

    - The casual masked gaze calls out to us with a violent, almost open hostility. It is only the casual fly, the businessman's desire, that believes that everyone can be bought who has already done so, in order to sell himself once and for all.

    Attention and avid curiosity seem to be superstitiously playing people's cards. As if, deep down in the soul, someone is consciously pressing a secret button to see who will be the lucky chosen one.

    With a sense of gold, the dream can stab our members at any time. From our misguided handshakes to formal gestures labelled as meaningless, our communication can regularly scar us while we suffer injuries.

    What a pathetic, wasteful age of interest and insidious, petty acquaintances. Into seem-securi...

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    On the doorstep


      
    The Ending Time has been chasing me lately. First it tore out my tangled, constantly panting hair follicles in knots, then it burnt the fields of my lush fur to a sterile parlague. My years are stacked like rings in the trunks of trees, like rings of a Skafander in the desolate and homeless cosmic dark. Scattered are intimate, friendly societies, human-centered texts. I tried to find meaning and purpose in the fact that after so many gallows and gallows-trials I am still alive and well.

    Happiness, the petty lack of routine, still lurches on the doorstep: 'loves, loves not' - its romantic mysteries would be so good to unravel. Balsam-scented, precious eyes, brown and shining. - Behind every cracked mirror is another yawning, grotesque-faced Janus.

    Nodding secretly, I hope one day my deserved happiness will find its way to me.

    Parting parting words, winking glances softened into memories, I wonder where they were when t...

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    Unacceptable absurdity


      
    All those who have been are dying, one after another: colleagues, romantic loves, and the happy memories of old friendships - the fear of the fierce uncertainty of the horrible tomorrows, wrapped in expectation, makes everyone suspicious.

    Our world, like a misunderstood, uninhabitable Nineveh apocalypse, hangs by severable threads; a wilfully failed attempt at hopeful survival. Wasted, expendable lives are doomed to a swift demise - day after month, perhaps a grave decade, until a lasting and reliable cure and era greets Calvary's Calvary humanity.

    The wild virtuoso dance of endlessly exhausted bundles of strands grinds and grinds the whole of Being faster than the encrypted alchemy of molecules and cells.

    The biological code is still a long way off, which could provide us with a clue to the nature of pathogens. From the cracked March mirror-ice, the sky drops melancholy, frozen pearls of truth. The distant space cherishe...

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    BUTCHERED PREY-AGE


     
    Every plague-stricken second, a star that wants to shine dies and dies again. The ash-dust of falling comets signals the approach of the end of the world for this terrible, terrible age. Men reduced to beasts have all gone wild.

    The vengeful fists of vengeful fists are rattling, and the murdering death is raging. In microcosms of cellular molecules, defensive bloodlines, immune bastions are destroyed. Those who once proclaimed their health nimbus in sun-tanned southern glory are now mummies wrapped in deathly sheets, mere old men.

    The desperate echoes of inhuman agony reach us daily. The media channels broadcast unbearable, unfortunate war conditions in the space and in a whole series of deserted Nineveh cities. Pressed together, trembling, the thin patients, condemned to their mortality, tremble; in each one's lethargic gaze another derailed plea is lost.

    Life or Death?! For that was all that could remain. In a motionless, glo...

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    Translated for tomorrow


     
    Who else can paint the crumbling walls of my tomorrows in barren rainbow colours?! In place of the cloud giants on my sinking, dented skies, when can One-eyed sunshine smile again? When will my creaking stick-words of Sehonna be listened to, and understand what it means to survive or let live?!

    What lady I look upon, let me not see a grimace of grimace, but a crocodile's face of relief. In the pale moonlit court of lantern-lights should be gathered round the faithful witnesses, like modern-day heralds.

    They point at my heart and demand an account of my every wandering minute. I wonder what strange secrets I might know?   They'd use me as a festering leech, so that I'd be a sham, a cheat, a liar, till my sickly throat was dry.

    The face of a child-eyed sweetheart would smile at me from my distant future, and a thousand times I curse the day she did not sit by me. Now my thirty-seventh prodigal year clatters like a vu...

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    Inter-play


     
    The Earth has become a small room-globe. A small room has become a small world. After the hypocritical adventures of the daily harangued, preached and haranguing hypocrites, we should live here as humans, not as animals.
    The promising badge of understanding and a sober handshake no longer counts if the active, free-thinking mind and the workshop-smelling, alamusian creativity are left to itself minute by minute.

    All submission is forbidden to such petty man-gods, whose only aim is conceited milk-power. Wise memory is not wise at all. What was a frivolous colony, a throwaway, a shabby little trifle, is now eaten up by rust.

    And yet, if we all wanted to do it at the same time, we could find out all the astonishing, sordid arguments, or admit responsibility as a heavy burden. Tiny larvae-bugs swarm and swarm in grass-land. Everyone understands this. Most self-deluding, self-deluding, rather scaremongering Guliveres are deliberately eleva...

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    Naive-consciousness

     

    I know it well: the hypocritical crowd of people with Janus' mouths and money laughs, but you will understand everything, if I confess to you my difficulties, which I have to describe, as an honest and cowardly person. If you could see that literature has become a great affair of my heart, and the creative consciousness that greedily foams my days in it, you would understand and stroke me again with your swan-hands.

    If you could see how much forced diligence I often protect and protect the marbles of my stubborn face from the searching eyes lurking at the end points of my exhaustion, they would already flow into abundant streams, and if, because of you, conscious helplessness would threaten my secure livelihood - I would go with you perhaps forever!

    For believe me, there is a spiritual pain that my childish vulnerability, my naive, gullible misfortune cannot endure. And even now the muffled voice of many rings in my ears: "You were a cow...

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    Who will then you live!


     
    When man, this now still insidious gambler, has thrown away and sunk his valuable, lasting things - to say what: true, good, honest - he will stare hesitantly and in bewilderment at our books, which also carry knowledge of morality and beauty, as worthless, leaky pots, like a misguided, manipulated idiot, while the lost memory is dying.

    There may yet be some who will turn to good account the thought-provoking testimonies of fiction; when the ancients of the mind are also anchored with useful, creative spirits! - Will there still be vulnerable human minds in the distant future, which is still in its infancy, in our infancy, in our infancy?!

    And will this feeble, mediocre man ever understand that he is obliged to keep and guard within himself, as a sign of stigma, the human law: the great Humanity, which never asks in self-sacrifice - but gives?! And will the sentimental and sacred trust of the common evening stories remain? From where can we ...

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    No hope left

     

    With every ticking clock, the constricted space is shrinking. The holy, emaciated burden of our years grows weary, softening in the sediments of a much-weary body. Broken to pieces, the wounded heart circulates bitterly for its perceived and real sins - handshakes in loyal, reverent grasps of a message of forgiveness that is human precisely because it is universal. There is no pity for useless, slowed hands.

    The big sand-time always cuts out the harmful intentions, the swampy, creeping marshland views stuck on the surface. In gloom eyes and instincts are sharpened. As one lost in the dark, and cannot easily find his way out. They lie on each other like snakeskins cast off: envy, hypocrisy, feigned anger - the trail of difficult escapes from the labyrinth of self-locked doors.

    Perhaps there will always remain a cold love, a premature, lingering death-consciousness. Suicide, or nearly so, is devious, flattened in the mélange of silence, whic...

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    Care in this age


     
    In the modern-day throng of gigolos and performance poseurs, this vile crowd of people still keeps awake what I try to forget, and shares the intoxicating din of the loud chorus. Morality, morality, a realistic awareness of the difficulty of giving what other Western European countries have equal, is obvious.

    The creative-avant-garde brain of free-thinkers is in a disillusioned, nonsensical, grotesque world that is repeatedly crawling and toppling over itself. Their wild-sensuous word-play simultaneously destroys and creates tongue-destroying apocalypses, with the torsion of pests.

    In the deep-seated, filthy masses of societies, whoever praises and wishes to enjoy this justly infamous age, wills to wallow with will.- Hence it is that I cast my judging fury unmercifully on those who preached like priests of a better world, and yet everything remains as it was.

    Snarling, a camp of insidiously petty snake-tongued camps head for their ...

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    Last year's summary


     
    I'll speak up, if I have to. I grumble and complain. Hátha erst einmal majd deservelel a word, the likes of me can also and shy away in this false, nonsense age of the creduling digression, passed responsibility.

    My disadvantage, - however I scrabble -, each time it snarls back at me like a wolf, unmoving guarding me, like a steel prison-basket of my pathological inferiority. - Behold, this great cup-bearing dare-devil and rabble-rouser has become a whole society of men. Where once it should have been learned to thrive, now the infected party of debauched orgies has degenerated into a simple-minded self-indulgence.

    My money is not enough for dreams, but tomorrow it won't be enough for food. When I listen to holiday-party rants on screens I feel like a traitor. I'd spit on my pride with a calm heart

    So long as you're in there partying, juggling, enjoying the temporary, transient life - blurred paint smears on ...

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    THE FEW I QUESTION


     
    What comes next will be a petrified, stoic silence in barrel-smelling, shantytowns. Aggressive hatred, bursting envy enacted by growing octopus arm electromagnet. In the depths of the brainwashed-minds, a single law overwhelms everything: relentless trample, squeeze everything no longer humanity, empathy-tolerance can no longer remain clear, natural - no longer can be a gracious, sacred gift.

    What has already happened can only be justified by one more proverb: the asceticism of which the mud-landed nobody-mindedness of the giver is like a drunkard - the age when eyes can find a real, more harmonious love seems more and more unreal. When mouths romance with the All. When hearts that hesitantly professed love were beating and falling in love.

    With stone smiles and Janus-faces on faces where faithful words would still have value and credence - the shameless mask of made-up masks is withering away. Through the walls of inner retinas the arhythm ...

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    HORDES


     
    Hatred, a chattering tangle on the cube, like a heart drawing of an emotionless, fancy-masked diva, a chirpy naïf, or a transfixed dealer-maiden in the festive, cruising-lights-posh-masse flow between bullet-riddled house walls.

    Soundless beats, raw transitions in a single voice. A timeless, party-going, partying season. Enclosed in habits, cheap, petty trends, new enyves-grabbing daredevils slide in front of the city without a break. A heavy, Spacesiut-wearing world is now lost in the doom-smelling sticky muck where everyone is an accomplice or a traitor.