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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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, ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 believe t...

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...

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...

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...

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!

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! The summ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

  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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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 –...

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 –...

 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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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,...

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...

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...

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, ...

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:...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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!

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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!

- ...

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 ...

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...

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, ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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'...

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 

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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,...

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.

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...

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,
...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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 - ...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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,...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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?...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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. ...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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? 

...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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!

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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, ...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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?! -<...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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.

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, ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

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 ...

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.

Noise, clamour, the intimate violation of silences is heard again. On the crypt-grass of indivisible, indivisible faces, as the give-and-take hysteria of noisy markets always floats only profit, and on my face instead of the stabbing cold rain snowflakes that always fall at undignified intervals among the hell of many a sycophant - Up and up willows, by fancy flashing lights, the hell...

Trying-light

I am wandering in my room under my bookshelf. This castaway posture is the best guardian of my humanity. This immobile, thirty-something situation faithfully preserves my vanished, sinking self, who, with his face clinging to piles of paper and digital stacks in the universality of cultures, could still feel and hear from this interest-dictated masquerade the kind of feelings that only the soul-seeing can sense, honest messengers can understand, and who could hear from his own little self-confident self a yearning for difference that would at once warn and admonish all who could ever remain human.

This sitting, consciously still movement touches me with the reckoning of my puppyhood, a self-nurturing holy consolation - it raises my creative hand before my creative, performance thoughts and is able to make me believe, without any pretension, that no one can trample the oscoli of my texts any more.

- I sit still in the shadow of my bookshelf. The s...

ELITE-SIGNS

Why so many empty, rainy, bumpy winters again? My cranky brain cells are still cherishing the formulas of certain answers before the irrefutable truth finally breaks out.

Winter's ether has ploughed bitter furrows into the palpable symmetries of the face. Wild, calculating, desperate sobs reign over the calvary of forlorn minutes.

Sooner or later, we may all emerge from the cesspools of the underpasses that once held the secret chambers of our souls. The days, like fatal creatures stupefied and dismembered, fall on and on into the echoes of themselves. As if no longer capable of creating a sense of wholeness.

Beyond the prison walls of Existence, there could be no one left to count the surviving and trapped signs of life, to feel something of what was given.The paralysed grimace of the dead cough still hovers, dances in the grimaces of lemon-acid faces: suspicious, no doubt of the rage.

In the penetrating mysteries of the ...

Migration of bodies

 
A curdled, rotten blood clot in a perforated heart, if it is preparing for a love union, like pasta or overripe sourdough. She who will give of her self a gift, while the other receives With hesitant, panting trembling, she will feel Secrets revealing pasts.

And he whose prodigal, sacred time can no more ache, For he has parted with her and with Nothing, and then willingly agreed to his fate, - His alien body too serves as home-shelter anew. He and she feel their sighing instincts when the budding rose-flower of their bodies opens to the tune of redemptive intoxication. Deep breathing, Edenic journeys begin and end at every possible juncture.

Together they are like an arrow and a bow that can only interact and ally together. Out of a fed-up, amorous turmoil, the clairvoyance of their clairvoyance becomes decisive.

Together they cling to the quivering instincts of the All, while their rings of years tremble with them. The common lab...

Intentional blindness

We should now tighten the gauntlet of marcona, thundering courage. All of us, like the blindfolded blind, are deliberately stuck in the gaping gloom.

Who would work in the pissy dawn of day, can't the unfortunate - God forbid - reach the meagre farthing for a pittance. Treading, among crawling roots, among underworldly terrors. On us every petty, telltale movement is now tightened.

And so the community called civilized, sluggishly dull and stagnant. Our lives, if we hang in the swamp of indifference in the air of tesped uncertainty as unworthy victims, hanging silently until the next tweaked relief.

Yet we feel our yarrow-life bliss among the hidden career beds, camouflaged ceda-romantics - making us Ariadne's thread of Existence the thudding beats of our hesitant hearts.

The greed for money demands our clarity, ever more violently. We might as well dream the American dream if we could - let us not yet stake our only l...

Free-looting

 
Executioner Time is still on hold. And like a voracious scavenger, circling on high - devouring the poisoned bulgarian Jelen. The useless chattering, the senseless running amok-glittering. Even the eternal, romantic moments are no longer for us to understand with whom we must bear, if we would have our common purpose?

We are permeated, like the sticky, viscous secretion of a slime that oozes its ugliness, by the bribe. We have little chance, if we had any, nowadays, and fewer and fewer people understand the science of free delay.

In many places, intoxicated happiness is scaled like silver icing sugar. It can be safely rubbed on two fingers - we wander miserably like the minute-men of the world. The new search for Existence, like a hope lost, is always diminished or thwarted in the prison-cage of everyday life.

Nesting in their nests, everyone can now listen to what the little people's so-called consciences mutter inside: sensel...

Secret speech

I feel for the homeless, little orphaned anguished one. Abandoned, shipwrecked, abandoned to the branches of loneliness, a little child, cut off, a little child with a bell. I can feel the old nota again!" they say. I feel the unworthy childhood injuries, the failures of the maltreated, how unjust and unworthy must have been all the way from primary school to university.

I feel it in my bones, the loyal subservient idiots who think in a brainwashed system of ideas, the self-poisoned, hesitantly balancing themselves. And I can feel the idyll-fueled, trash-trash, filth-words as they bury the needlessly prematurely departed.

In my dreams I feel the Satan-dog of nightmares-haunting. Saw-toothed flesh-scratching, wild-tackling, rabid frenzy - like a rooting synonym for total madness. The half-wits or the insane, wielding Morse code, can only smile at themselves.

And I can sense the stigma, the vulnerability of my own. Today, even those ...

Still not an easy lesson

Because it is necessary and essential that someone always speaks up. Whether it's about sermons, discrimination or spending, personal rights or morning lattes. It would be nice to be able to complacently heap it on the peaceful end-of-summer beach sand.

To stroke the slightly stubbled, lovable fur of the next day, even after thirty years or so, of an orphaned child. The sound of feasible plans written on staircases should be treated independently.

To listen with dignity to the golden sirens of street-corner begging, mouldy-smelling castaways, and not to behave like human beings in arm-arms instead of snarling fist-bumps. - Because someone always has to speak up. The mental consciousness as an instinctive reaction, not because of the deeper reasoning of the preacher's brainwashed speech, or the radical corruption of Being nowadays.

The bragging wounds, some say, that even Time cannot heal. The pale will to not trample the ant or ...

Humanity?

 
Empathy-tolerance within ourselves. Nice speech nobly subversive sermons are all too little for the graffiti preachers of this century. Our days are swarming, like the million-year-old volcano that slumbers for the last time before eruptions, and while party queens flash their drunken self-consciousness in the latest fashions - the glorious company of lobbyists misses out on winning bids: the present gallant, helpless world can only hurt and gripe - tabloid media broadcasting sensationalist deceptions, spouting and screaming brainwashed propaganda.

But it is in vain to make education impossible when self-educated people have survived. A million times more conquering stubbornness, protesting resistance, than shrunken submission. An age of wrangling litigation rather than false submission. No longer to bow and scrape to Rolex-watching nobodies or kiss ass in front of canary-voiced titters.

We must oppose this inglorious, grotesque century, whi...

Dreams built up

  What foolish dog-show has this absurd nonsense world become? Their cowardice is like a murdering knife - it cuts into bone. What parade of nightmares is this? What kind of a brain-shriveled machine of instantly emerging lying propaganda images, sputtering and sputtering sinlessly day in and day out?

The exaggerated make-up of crypt-faces tattoos their wearers into prostitutes, prize-winning breeding mothers, chirping wax dolls. Who are the people of yesteryear and who are the soul-wrecks?! - Have you worked, suffered, endured to thrive or just to survive?!

Have you long since weighed yourself, which is the world, and which the traces of unfaithful handshakes and promises? Dumbly nodding heads, like hard-working Get Up Jancsik, idly loiter while the posters above reap the millions in interest.

Beware of those who might still have some honour left. They are not the ones who become traitors, who toiled and toiled for pitiful wages -...

Remonstrance

 
Today, I'm being woken up for the umpteenth time. Who would have thought long ago that there would be a time when it would be better to hide or to rest like moles under 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 career bed, a race for validation.

The softening man, outcast, weeping, still looks back at 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, which is left to me as a desolation, and in my heart could not be a refuge of wise peace. - The wandering stairs, like manacles, hold me in, and will not let me go. Arrogant, pitch-born, mon...

INSIDE BREAKDOWN

I'm still trying to get my wrestling courage down. Let's see! How much more am I worth?! Now on me the ugly Being is sharpening its teeth, its vivid scalpels - how much more can it bear? Now my fear and terror are still strong upon me. With its true pearl-balls, interrogating, trapping, and playfully sending one and all.

A game so holy, so cruel! What is all this for? I am gradually losing my deserved happiness, a rare moment of joy. The sweet smell of celebration slips from the intimate silence that no one could stay by my side. For they've all died, passed on, or just left the stage of Existence.

A sour cheerfulness - not so much -, my winter season with melancholy, infected with depression. In body and soul I have already gathered as much fatal pain as the volcanic Sunbeams, glowing in the sand dunes, threatening to explode. The future's unconsciousness makes him occasionally half-witted, selfish, unhappy to the core.

ACRID-GAME

Stake me! Yell at my big-head. Run bravely to your doom, - what they do nowadays cannot be argument enough, complaint cannot bear, even if the old, degenerate democracy must be given time. It binds man in fetters, like a wolf to a wolf, a bargained prostitute to a pimp - with a vigilant traitorous consciousness, mixed with a treacherous persistence, which ripens constant, petty cat-and-mouse warfare, and therefore the imagined, dreamed future is always uncertain, and sufficiently fallible.

It absorbs all the false feelings slathered in a smear of sincerity, devours all the hyena-mosquito, killer-orc, narrow business lines: guns and daggers that always only take money for services - boasting of new career promises and perhaps therefore more horrible, more likely to kill than if it did so itself.

Those who, as loyal servants, end up as collateral losers, as cogs to be gnawed on. And he who is smuggled out as a living corpse from the grindin...

Discouraging underdevelopment

How many times have I played the role of Being.
Not beating with no man's heart, thundering,
holy excitement - rather with a stifling, nameless vulgarity,
as one who in dignity looks on and waits for Death.
I chuckled in my own whimsical, childish purity.
His reaper fingers were snow-stained.

Lying on the hospital bed, I suppose,
...tied up like a hunted animal, my time had not yet come,
for it was only later that I would be tempted to suicide.
I was a small, faithless man
Can now no more return from hence,
- those who will follow me on the long journey cannot yet be prepared
To honour themselves and now,
like blind men stumbling in their helpless lethargy.

I am daily spilling out some treasure-like, irreplaceable spark of happiness.
Someone steals it, uses it or crushes it.
to make use of a refutable idea:
my eyes, accustomed to letters, ...

OVER-WINTERING

 
Visible. The fog is rolling in.
The wide, lonely skies of dawn are drenched in milky masses, like feathers on a feather.
Black, bone-handled daggers stand like daggers in the shivering trees before advent.
On the throats of the mountains, like so many melted
swan-white snow-white snowflakes
The desolate frost, chilling, strange drizzle.

Love-flame burnt in bleeding rays, happiness weeps and trembles.
With frozen wings the living still struggles, hopelessly wavering.
- Out there the angel-scented snow turns to dirt.
The solemn, noble silence is broken by the ominous exegesis of the envious.
The twilight, fearful, waves no more to the landscape.

Once more a sickly wreck, down below, who wishes to live and limps on.
For he is grown great again, and the world's care is his own.
They tear and tear at each other, the howling marchers
and vulture-like they stran...

BLASTED OBSCURITY

Secretly a bit of a new guilty conscience again; I've outlived myself by another messy year. I've been a bit of a cheat and a traitor, and even a shipwrecked Robinson, if I look within myself, because I had to play chess with happiness in secret so that no one would see my tears.

From my grotesque age my idyllic youth is nowhere to be found. I've squandered my better hopes of what the future might hold. - What to some may be tragicomedy To the likes of me may be merit. I'm not ashamed to have lived as I did, as Damocles' fate despised me. I was a bachelor beggar who had yet to win a pitying glance or pity - not enough.

Proud, rathar perc-men spin all fortune's mill-wheels for their own profit. The haunted moonlit night, strewn with mist, still shines on me with the blast of an orb. The barns have all gone to bed. The port-oases of my childhood are now broken up and forced into exile by calculating com...

Unbiased probability

 
In the terrifying wilderness of our earthly destiny, two people can hardly impose order on romance. The bushes of venomous gorillas and insidious creepers strictly adhere to the precise geometric rules of healthy coexistence. Only muscular, athletic, hardened secretan-colossuses, their chirping canary counterparts, can form relationships and win everlasting loves.

And anyone who breaks through the indifference of bull-headed trendiness is instantly crucified. They walk like stealthy assassins in society, strictly attending to a healthy social order as Nietzsche once wanted. They decorate their hard floors with shards of glass to make the stigma-steps of pain more comfortable.

Day by day, the mock plan is worn away by the pre-engineered, the planned. They can be tweaked to fit the graph with accurate but lying sets of numbers. Perhaps one day they will understand that they should exist, act and try to be happy in an independent way, in a way ...

Predictable psychology

 
Who would have thought that in just a few decades, this current generation would be dog-eared? Who could have imagined that empathy and morality would be consigned to the mists of the past, giving way to a brain-shrinking, jerky intellect? The present age is a lie-men's paradise drizzled with pink syrup.

For a single minute we have leapt millennia from the world of chivalric virtues to the land of the debonair, where everyone is now fucking everyone else. - I feel my staggering, limping footsteps stumble and falter here. - Here I seldom, if ever, see a scholarly intellectual clinging to reason. In grown-up eyes, petty flirtation has become a fashion, a greater profit.

Centuries have come and gone, and even now the problem is still the same: to build relationships in a bumpy ferry-land is a waste of time. What is valuable and noble is reduced to a decaying pile of rubble. Subordinates and bosses work to cheat each other. Even love, once i...

Frog-Soiree

This current clumsy, late frog-fool is brekking unconsciously roaring vocabulary. Diva ostriches deliberately cover their ears and a more exotic blackbird buries its head in the ground. The brainwashed frogs croak in choruses, bewildered. I have heard them many times: they wanted to protest, but with conditions. They wept and laughed with great, rhyming arias; that it would be good to live in our little home again, and prosper in the corrupt land of tomorrow.

I felt sorry for myself when I had to prove my man-rule among beastly bastards, - now fear reigns in this frog-land. Long days are rising again, through the veil of heart-breaking nights, when I should feel again that all remaining possibilities are lost, I see less and less a hand of protection.

Now prophets and judging angels are mixed in silence. For a while only ants came marching with their word-cards; I have sacrificed my adult years early enough. - How many questions were asked then a...

Sceptical optimism

 
I am slowly abandoned by my youthful dreams of heroic masculinity: scripts and composed scripts for plays. Slowly, the prison cages of the initial dementia click like a tightened loop on the gears of my mind. Where are the memories of sacred loves, when the immortal power of love could be conveyed at a glance?!

Perhaps it is only in me that the flickering, the ever-digesting, slowly fading, they too are leaving me, the friends who once fought for me, and understood that I was born vulnerable, even as a coward. - The physical signs of ageing are gradually taking control of the molecular structure of my mind and body. Nervous storms of emotion and mood greet me, like unexpected guests again.

There can be no more peace of mind, no more happiness that can take root and not be tempted daily by the Cerberus dogs of depression. The dripped wax-light of romance is but playing with me. Gradually my vision fades, the initial, cherished union fades, an...

MODERN INTRIGUES  

 
Its star is a deprived orphan, a sneaky light in the treacherous night. One by one, the many stolen stars, the world-creating moon-shell should be put back - I admit: There is no need for the new, postmodern, and perhaps there can be no need for it. I cannot be needed with my selfish, stubborn pessimism, my praiseworthy, prophetic judgements - the silly hissy fit of popular, dumbed-down dissonances, of self-serving, self-promoting whoremongers and fifties will do just fine.

For it does not offer a reckoning-thought to the shabby present, nor does it ask questions with stoic solitude towards the future. Even the despairing, shipwrecked soothsaying of the Soul is understood by few on purpose. Now the trend is dictated by fake, hypocritical witnesses and bribable schemers, and if public life and the media need giggling idiots and wild-eyed idiots, they will get them. All these old-fashioned creeds about prosperity are just pity nursemaids. I'm not in...

REFIDENTIAL WRITING

I am constantly asking myself questions.
Am I really the one being singled out for judgmental revenge,
That with shipwrecked men unknown,
to share a common fate of Destiny?
It's hardly a romantic time to be out for a trip.
proclaiming stomach ache, limbs grinding to bone
Endless no nasty rain drumming furiously outside.

Already the honeyed joy of a proud future has passed me by.
Turncoat preachers for a grateful pile of words
continue to poison the legacies of cultures daily.
That two times two is often five, not four.
The earth's withered-drying line of swelling man
Can't earn enough money in his yoke.
Taxes or overheads will rob him as well as any greedy usurer.

What could I have wanted all these years?
My memories are shattered like broken glass
and my crying childish self is a fool,
The confused speeches of a dream.
- Me...

PALPABLE CONSCIOUSNESS

Unbelievable,
surprise with fingers
gambling with a game
of dodgeball hesitantly,
half shy babusagging
With Joconda's hair. 
Into Wonderland
fell a round us
a wounded
sunset bleeding lips,

crimson-grated disc-cracking:
atomic explosions before
dominant fatal moments
were, now all
one by one
to ashes degraded to ashes, in a haze
faded into the mist!
Restless
our fingers each other
pulse of our pulse
throbbing our skin
under our skin:

devoured us
a diligent
blood-oxygen particles
dancing molecules!
How, that
it could have happened,
that rocked
in them a
the immortal, everything
translucent application:
"Very
I would love you,
if
my support my happiness my sorrow
in my doubts!"
-

Cold,

Concerns

 
It would have been nice to travel far on the ship that conquered the Universe.
To feel and know earth-shattering,
With soul-changing music May my beloved be with me, to make me rejoice
And share my sorrow,
And feel how my sorrowing heart should ring for her.

The silent change of seasons warns me, and is ever on the watch:
I must prepare for the real. On the gloomy veil of restless nights the pendulum,
I am often awakened to the death-clacking minutes.
As one whose grave and now unpardonable transgression,
of coward and man in all ages stuck.

The world must be long accustomed to the petty,
and it may seem that something will never change:
The man that would be friends or acquainted is beaten to a pulp.
His soul, eager to be mischievous
Is always feeling its loss, and bears with its passing.

The initiative of the avant-garde, the artists of the form, ...

Trend-walking

Already melting like wax, the party queens of V.I.P.-scented luxury lives with their brain-botoxed, glued-together faces are melting apart. Here and there, no honest-to-goodness gaze can miss the exaggerated ass-grease-restored twilight, the lip-smacking fish-lips of their pleas, occasionally, if their attention is drawn, to save animals or humanity without ever knowing what they are talking about.

They gorge on indigestible sushi and Caesar salad by the sackful, because their bicep-bulging personal trainers in their telesmith diets have conveniently convinced them that it is preferable to flash the garlic popsie than the tank-cuff. In a sea of hair and skin, they will conquer any individually planned party where sex and sexual instinct rule instead of reason.

They curtsy in coercive situations, reduced to each other's palace-maids, hoping only that in return for their free services in kind, a kindly Someone will not be in debt and will take ...

CUT UMBILICAL CORD

I sought my refuge so convulsively. I was tired of the leak that left me alone and tormented me. Like a volcano in my glowing no-man's-land, judgement and words boiled. I am still alive, though my days are gradually ruined and damaged by fear of the future and monotony. Like the colour-blind man, who seldom sees a woman's sweet lips, or a wavy rainbow of variegated colours, must balance my will on needle-ropes, and in my buried heart I would rather ask memories and thoughts to give way to the deeper context of manhood!

V.I.P.- falls, Don Perinon, a gang of scheming colonel-readers, deceived, flash their fangs, envy and malice at once, if it takes to turn five minutes of visibility into a national fame, to cover almost all the earthly, ischamous Styx with its hordes.

It is often better to cling to no tears than to no endless chains of broken promises. My slipping shadow may stay but by my side, As my only faithful betrayer, Who onl...

Constraints

 
It's no longer the arrival that worries me, but the homesickness of getting on the road. The certainty of a good decision, hidden away for years, that starting something was still easier and more comfortable than leaving my things aside. Even so, there was no lack of complaints in the stumbles and failures of stumbles: they will get back on their feet and be solved again.

The need for completeness will hardly be truncated any longer, at most it will be a little more nuanced and complex. - Many times I would have preferred to cry: enough! - Let all those who still have a human spark left in them and have not given their heads to evil doings apologise! What was the use, then, of bribed hypocrisy, of spiked criticism of public humiliations? Instead of the soaring flights of private mirth, all would have been well in the consolation of all!

The arrowing, wounded pain of common injuries can never be forgotten once too often. A rare parade of ...

Swan cry

 
The insatiable wound of the stupefying nights is leaking fast from many places as the cawing song of crows begins to rhythm; the season of rages and compromises has come, when it was better to become a pimp and a pimp's pimp, and if necessary to complain: to a friend, a relative or a good friend. The scapegoat-witness stubbornly lurked in their shameful shame: everyone with a reputation is both a traitor and a traitor.

Although the insurmountable shame can encircle everyone, it has never been or will never be a cancer. It is not that the great heaviness is not relieved, for reason has long since been removed from it. The corrupt-seeing has often stumbled into the unworldly whys of what has happened. Even so, our sins are lost in order. The elongated volume between two hearts is still free to bleed, for it cannot be bound by an oath of fidelity.

Prostitution-happiness, or cowardly drink-avoidance, is the long-ago cross of many. Unquenchab...

Extinct instinct paradigms

 
Why does the first romantic night spent together have to be rough and hungover? Why is it that the hey-hawking of the tax organs involved in love-making is so saliva-producing that it's downright disgusting?! In orgies of pent-up urges, why did the ecstasy of the Universe feel unbearable? Can we survive ourselves in two bodies united in a fused unity? Do we not change, like butterflies in a cocoon of silk, so that the only sign of all fulfilled joy may be Executioner-Death?!

Two androgynous souls lay in solemn exaltation side by side, And imagined this the order of the Worlds, which was ordained from all eternity. We may often be known to grope in the nest of our sure present as if we were in a crater-deep mine for precious stones. The gentler contours of our femininity tend to be forgotten from time to time, so that our vestigial animal instincts, swept under the carpet, can come to the fore.

The star-storm of the Cosmos outside clears ...

Intimate togetherness

My heart is hammering there in terror; like a sneaky, alamusian little worm the ghost of a heart attack. The unnatural ending of Being, sudden Death. Long since seen better days, the shipwrecked ki I'm circling back and forth, hunting for itself an old familiar wave of molecules pumping in and out of enriched cell bodies, and perhaps even daring to hope to solve the problem with a wave of the hand.

All cardiovascular shock or modern-trendy physiotherapy was considered invalid and untrue. Time-outs in front of the loser cannot be deliberately extended. Like a punctured artery, or one about to blow itself up, I was forced to lie, to waste away on the prison floor of my room.

My body a runny mass of fat, double encased in floating rubber bands. I resigned myself to doing fifty sit-ups a day, secretly hoping that perhaps all my wasted effort had not been in vain. I was already blowing the medical whistle: hypochondriacism can have plenty of degen...

Fallen youth

 
 
Once upon a time the beautifully curved cherry-mouth: twilight's immortal smile 
Delicate and breakable china teeth, Praised the endlessness of time! - Once, like a pimpled buffoon, I too, with a serene eye, guarded the buds of my youth: two The freckled fungus, the squinting eye-bug, the looping in a ring of fangs, muscles bound in chains: many a jealous fang snarled at me, "Thou little worm, what are you trying to colonize me with?" - Cupid's chubby Cupid, and Tartuffe's winding Tartuffe, among the creaking boards of the schoolroom: 
 
and they'll still be there when I'm gone: 
Their selfless charms, their underlying touch, timeless, They rise in every vulnerable heart's shell: In the labyrinths of reason and instinct, In the depths of rooms and 
Shaken by ancient instinct, only by them the True-self of the fallible man Shows itself, the sincere and uns...

Without you everything is different

 
 
In your narrow almond-shaped arc you carried your cruel impulses: what what have I done?! Now tell me! - Tell me, with murderous confidence, the straining sparks of conscience! - No doubt, while thy angel-eye could not adopt as mother thy feral silence of loneliness. In my heart, too, happiness seemed to perish, And my clownish smile could be but a disguise. 
Gloria, with her merciful majesty, kept me from suicide: My hopeless despondency at last to overcome, 
 
But the showers of showers would not let me: they stayed and grew And the mixture of my own eager and selfish self-pity, And I dared with increasing difficulty to believe that thy balmy, balmy laughter was ever a remedy for my broken wounds. It would have begun with you: My calm and warlike My harmony with peace! 
 
Into my dark pessimistic soul you would have secretly and unconsciously your unselfish and ever ready to help pricel...

Cosmos Nebulae 

 
 
 
I would, if I could, move into the last cosmic nebula of man and star, Into cultivable gazes: there, perhaps, is not the gambler Adonis, and the gambler's cardsharp the winner! 

The brightness that gazes at me from the all-goodness of your eyes would shine before me like a halo, and the cheap toil of everyday life would pass through my anxiety-strangled conscience as a defeatable omen, and your eyes would be a Yes, a medal of sincerity, a truth. Not only broken moments would proclaim The bitter order of broken misfortune: Thy scorns, thy slanders I would bear no more, No more, especially not the uncompromising humility! - I could be love's immortal exile, And build a caring palace of crocodiles' tears! 
 
It was foolish of me to think that two lonely hearts would meet, and, like Phaon, with the Kharübdis of rocks, wolf-eyed, if I had not been so afraid, from the cliff-hangings of mounta...

Caught in the crossfire 

 
 
Among many individuals I still remember this, alas, The scrawny Red, who, with the skill of an assassin, threatened and harassed me daily, and clung to men like disgusting little leeches, and against his raging, vengeful fists there was no help or escape. 
 
In the middle of the nineties, I had not yet grown out of childhood, and I was already scurrying and fleeing in the hope of possible tomorrows that might bring peace and mercy! - And not letting go of the ring of revenge and revenge, they beat me like a swollen, fat punching bag, - you little worm, you bastard -, they even caught me and stuck my head in the stomach of toilet canals: "Let him taste it. 
"Let the fugitive taste the new flavours!" - Nothing else happened! Broken and destroyed was the cherished childhood I had tried so hard to preserve and protect! 
 
Only fallen, only fallen, the sieve-snowstorm of everyda...

I UNDERSTAND YOUR WORDS!

I have conceived your orphanhood equal to all, - Yes, - when in your fertility radiating button-eyes, in the wombs of your fetuses, your miscarried fetuses, the Bliss! And gave birth to her grief in pearl-gemmed sorrow! 
Yes! - Then I watched with thee: And now 
 I knew, because thou told'st me, thou shouldst not have come! - Sometimes it was needless to cry to my lips the plea of consolation, "Be still, my little beetle. Thy bold words have long deceived me: the foolish fool that can be deceived! 
 
You thought it was a dream, you thought it was a dream, you thought it would comfort me with a Delilah smile - but you were deceived by the heart-rending truth of my tears, to justify your obsessive lies, because you said yourself: "The honest, chewed Word is unbearably reasonable in time!" - In the rich pool of my tears, love has hibernated for you! 
 
Do you...

Lucky bastard 

 
 
"You're a lucky bastard, my friend!", I was told afterwards, humiliations, blue-purple wounds, life-slaps, soul-vulnerabilities: a miserable and broken youth, a terror network of the soul, a convalescence in a car accident! - 
It's not cheap, it's a real fortune and a good refuge for the human-hearted! Let's add that a chubby teddy bear lived through this from a vulnerability 
who could do nothing but compliment and romance 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 found the compliments in the starry eyes of ladies, and the One and indivisible Whole may yet remain: in the metamorphosis moments of love's fulfilled metamorphosis, the immortal emotion that remains m...

Mature ages 

 
 
I never wanted to be a brave man, like a little Adonis in the army of Adonis' stanovian perfectionism; I lacked the caracan devotion and the virtue of chivalry that define the seventies, the unconditional devotion to a strong courageous consciousness and the hot excitement: adrenaline-shooting with atomic nerves! 
In my youth I did not even dream of wisdom: this is the age of dilettante narcissism, and I have heard enough of social murderers, baby-destroying narcissists, and orator-terminators from the outside world. 
 
And I have seen cafés that may once have seen better days. The Parnassus-worms of cultures, to sink into the devouring ashes of their ashes! - I have only 
begged of Men a more responsible trustworthiness, but so that the pillar of morality should not perish in the wounding of the sole, - I would have sent no less than the humanity of a conscience that could be regained, an...

THE WORLD OF WORK

It's getting further and further away from the ground of real life... 
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 editor's office with the whims of my thoughts 
with the manuscripts of my thoughts! 
 
And still the stubborn stubbornness of the immortal, solid lines I'll have it sooner or later, for the last breath of our lives has long since been passed on to our descendants by DNA microbiology - and that would be fine! - But where will and can there be a marketplace of ideas that once had better days: compasses, messages, and apocryphal O...

Idyll s reality 

 
 
The will and the opportunity, if we all wanted it together, would still be lost! A 
The man of the new postmodern age is the gigolo, the model and the wily vigilante! 
Who explains his bribed turncoats with his job description and, if he really has to, shakes out the fake cheques from the depths of his fat wallet! "At last! You've just turned up! What do you see? She's not in her right mind, she's got a sharp tongue, so she must be a newsreader!" 
 
I don't care what the villains splash between my eyes with their ugly talk, I'll be even silent if someone wants me, and I'm vulnerable with a child's soul! If I remember where I have not turned, And almost died in a siege of blue-purple stains, In schoolyards, on toilet bowls! 
 
Wordlessly, yet with forced smile I have endured much; The integrity of my bones was threatened long ago By the pet...

Running out 

 
 
Time: Ticking mortality! Laughs as he misses his precious minutes and if 
does not clearly get the human existence of the laws of organization picks on its target! - It thirsts for human life all the time, the selfless biological miracle: 
The metamorphosis of spherical delicate forms into essentially flesh and blood when it emerges. 
 
"It will be good for little toys, for mannequins", he thought, but his mind is illiterate and can still get its primitive respite! - The fertile, clot-bound awakening of thought gave birth to premature fetuses! The price was soon paid dearly and with interest by those who wished to live! 

And saw mortality vulnerable 
"There will be another time, there will be another time!" - And, looking back over the millennia. 
Again the sluggish sloth of time has triumphed: Man's frail mortality is made to drag! To de...

Nerve-tracking 

 
 
There are situations when it seems that the sycophants are right about everything: Believe they have the ancient privilege of bribery and compromise!
 - And even the less fortunate, who at best can only enjoy the comfort of shelters - they laze around until ten in the morning, tanning on the paparazzi altar of the mansions! - In life, they're old men themselves!

 There are situations when it seems that the mature judgements of rules can be broken at any time and easily questioned, and the best thing is to be able to harness the howls of a proud wolf in the winter and put up a traffic barrier and obeys the rules! In such times, of course, most people are survivors, without knowing it, without knowing that they will be out of a job tomorrow! 
 
He just scurries around for twelve hours a day to get his lunch, and he knows that times will turn! - And then he looks through the marketplace of fluctu...

WITH PERSONAL TICKETS

 
 
Very close, too close to thirty. The moves, gestures, and cheap, deliberate actions set the course of adulthood! Bald hair follicles in- 
Painted with pity by old Time: Let society see if it pity or trample him down Who walks crookedly, waddling, and ashamed of himself, and courting. Eyes unblinking, honest in their gaze 
A child weeps, wails, and cries!
 
"You should have started a family long ago, you rotten scoundrel!"
 - The Robinson of one's conscience goes inwards: 
The secret haunts of unknown blood-blood-bloods, the safe homes of heart-ports, 
He seeks ever more urgently for he cannot find his own rest! 
 
Under the skin of heart-cups tears 
with crocodile-water tears: 
up and down grind the still gnashing, lonely teeth! 
- But still above is rich in secrets, 
Priceless gifts t...

What can stay? 

 
 
After all, hopelessness, uncertainty, pessimism, a chain of pessimism, winking towards the future, finally brightening and seeing vulnerability in gap-ridden faces: Delicate beats of individual stories may tell, And that only the unshakable heart-throb prove clinging and blind faithful, The secret music of lips, the captivating telepathy of eyes, And the loud and independent flutter of amber-hair, And the chivalrous conduct of immortal romances, Only knights errant believe, after all, moral values are nowadays only on the pages of books, in a land that parties and takes stimulants to indulge its pleasures on the doomed altar of stupor, - not much pride! - It is a humiliating shame! 
 
The intangible future may be as our past's failed 
and yet undiscoverable will: a conscious questioning of the 
and doubt will dazzle with its illusions the system-minded 
intelligence: the eternal syste...

A PLACE OF REPENTANCE

 
 
With myself I can only be part, trying to find the particles of the whole, 
scattered around me at fateful moments! Humiliation of souls, 
I began to laugh, and the nursery flowed like a finished memory. 
But it was school that taught me most of all: To survive with fear, to survive 
Constant alertness, against the snarling claws of industrious beasts. 
 
And I can't even say that I'm the only one who's ever been broken. 
Has any but me mourned the state, the cross-suffering, of the Son of Mercy? Doubt- 
I have shivered with crocodile's droppings through those days, if I enter the halls of my dreams. 
...of my dreams: I must have been a child again, who once loved Turkish honey, gu- 
and toffee, and fudge - deep down, it's just bone-crunching humiliation 
 
Outside my spat cheek my shoe...

Gripping with fidelity 

 
 
The city wakes slowly in the freezing cold, and my body is bone- 
in the hand of my body, pain tears its ten-millimetre scars: once escaped 
My car accident, once a disgrace: A loss of hope and bitter self-pity 
A hopeless hope and desperate regret! Still beats and beats my stubborn, stubbornly inoculated heart: 
Incapable of compromise and compromise! 
 
Alas! - But yet comes the hyena-throated fury, and my vulnerable smile in the furrows of my face 
freezes now, but as a pale glimmer of light, the twilight of to-morrow 
the new forgiveness of tomorrow, the tiny separate existence according to the law of the separate itself 
yawns and stretches. 
 
The feeding instinct, the animalized impulse, is produced by unemployment, the eternal 
in the blood tunnels of a man who is always dissatisfied, I would like ...

Ruins of days 

 
 
I am alive. A single, insignificant scream in the silence, the last 
the last ashes that unconsciously still smolder in the ever-increasing flames to tell the 
The truth, and art, the honest: The romance, the hopeless courtesy, 
when there could be and were knights and knights for ladies' favours 
 
and every step was history - and I believed that grace with angel's wings and 
with halos, with the spell of kisses promising self-sacrificing immortality! - 
My whimsical eccentricity, admit my all-seeing, human constellation, which two 
watch me like two watchful comets, and watch me beneath thy blessed brow, and 
 
and feel it now: Thy absence makes my life worthless and disgraced! - They are opened 
The ever-creative fountains of compliments have opened in me, and I must speak for ever 
to thee in t...

Honest judgment 

 
 
There can be no more mercy around you! There is only wrath, and spite, and ruthlessness, and 
Thou grumbleth within thyself like a lean and broken vessel: Thou wailest in thy fierce and unsparing 
and thou wilt not spare thy chances! 
And thou shalt not be free...The recurring questions of the prophets, with eternal immortality 
In thy wandering skull. - It has been said, "If you do not scratch for yourself 
who will do it for you?" 
 
Thy humility is trampled to the ground, thy remaining treasures, Thy humanity, and thy crying 
and thy whispering voice, like a gaping Kharübdis, shall be swallowed up by the Budaörs hills! 
when in the luxurious mansions of the Bocce institutions, in the cold-cold cabins 
And in the loneliness of chilling chambers, The human will will finally put thee on ice. 
your ...

SIMPLE STATEMENT

 
 
I stand in the winter. Chased stranger in a puffy teddy bear coat, looking like a Martian 
Surprising to many! A snake and a dream squeeze my neck like a harness. What 
poisonous plague and cold in the tunnels of my organism 
yet ever more perpetuated? How everything falls out of my way: opportunities, pleasures. 
The immortal moments of heaven, the infinite power of the universe: 
The home-melody of women's sheltering laps! 
 
And I begin to become lifeless, like a vacuum hiding in incognito and not 
I cannot know the answers to the more important questions of human existence - for I am half-conscious of the 
I have long since opened my dead soul, and have settled down alone like a vain and 
against vain and conceited hypocrites, the unpardonable sin! 
 
My love now only sends me messages from the mac...

Backwards readable soul

I still cling to my soul-sustaining, soul-sickening, alley walls. Collapsing cellars gape beneath my feet in murderous trap-dishes, and my restless sleeplessness spills the true pearls of Destiny. With child's teeth full of mischief it would have been better to have hoped that all might be better - In the eyes of bees another dawn-myride if blossoms: the beating heart never forgets rosebuds.

Outside, the profit-globe, scrabbling in the wind, is ever on the wane. Every honest memory is dusted with tear-drops to memory-pearls on the shores of hearts' hearts. I twist in the intersection of my four-walled room; the knife-light of the balmy moonlight lurks like a worthy murderer. Salt washes away my desires, my unconditional hope of happiness.

With a fluttering, no-man's-land vulgarity some cover themselves, to be sensibly left out of the more worthy coordinates of truths; they are dumb, petty whores to the cheap frilly frilly bangs of mai...

SELF-EXPERIENCE

In the complex totality of moments, even a hesitant step can carelessly trample on a moth! With fading, frightened rainbow-flower Marching richly to proud freedom! Hesitantly stumbling, the lonely silence may wound: the eye searches persistently for inscriptions carved in the wall, while the haunting moonlight's claw-rays wax and wane on the ominous veil of night! In our silences, too, we have deliberately confined The proud sighs of our eloquent words!

In no man's land of sorrows have wreaths of thorns been woven! Wounded regrets are more easily absorbed in the depths of the Soul; the burden of accents may burst through every chiseled, spittle-flecked sentence, for it throbs and is present like a sickly contagion! Like an orphan child caught in a trick: at once I am bewildered with a frightened half-eye, and I cannot know if, if I compliment in the manner of Don Quixote's prettily, I shall be called by a pardoning angelic goodness! - I can onl...

MORTAL DEADLINE

I cannot live long. As it was long ago and as my mother said. I may be a simple-minded, impatient one, burning himself from two candle-burners, diligently and still on the burner. No one would have thought of the immortal geometric gulas of pyramids when they were made, that they could easily survive the diligent changes of generations. Thanks to millennia of universally expandable experimentation and the unmistakable solid permanence of professional knowledge.