The night that takes me home could have been an evening,
but then the snows again appeared, deceiving.
And all the Spring incline once more a muddle
As snowdrift veils the snowmelt puddle.
Again the fields are white and all cars too.
The very Henry’s dream in negative hue.
The slow retirement -a childish glee.
Where age perceives its doom,
youth dreams infinity.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Afternoon tram, the smell of perfume, aftershave and youth.
Some more aged try blending in with the chaos,
and I’m reminded of what some students said:
“the old are so annoying.”
Am I old to them or am I still young if but mature?
Do I become old when I find them irritating?
No, they irritate each other! Don’t they?
Am I OLD if I even have to ask these questions?
My stop comes…
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Picture this.
A very sunny day though not yet hot.
Still cool enough around the edges
to feel my short sleeves.
Sitting on a bench at a busstop waiting.
Behind me at the old chapel steps
three vagrants sit.
Chatting, loitering,
and one with a kitchen sink –
It’s steel skin shining in the promised heat.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Tick tock
a moment spent without hellos goodbyes:
indifference.
That just sheer chance that had us without a single thought.
And then we relinquished all our sense
and beckoned chatter, debate, discussion…
all in a guise.
With sudden haste
we watched the dreamy haze
against the lone strap sharpened;
we saw the moment
and its langour disappear.
Replaced by haste,
by waste,
by every other thing.
We were removed to this rank rhythm.
The tired mind, the floating heart,
now reeling –
they’re being wrenched apart.
Thump thump
the beat begins
the dukes are set
and into another aspect
we will breach.
Note of interest http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/put-up-your-dukes.html
©TheHairyTeacher2013
For the briefest of moments
– not here on the tram
with the blue-eyed, old woman
looking on –
But for the shortest of snippets
in my life as I lead it,
I felt everything –
and everything had become one.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Now there is a fine line between impatience and over-tolerance and whereas I’m prone to the latter my decision to walk out 25 mins after ordering a bundáskenyér/french toast was certainly not, as far as I was concerned, an undue criticism of Anker (Anker köz ).
The problem with student staffed places is that the attitude can align itself with the service while professionalism falls by the wayside. It takes a good manager to strike the right balance but Anker is just not up to scratch.
Walking out took effort as I was hungry and, mid-morning, running between classes. On an empty stomach I alighted onto the street and while I could have dwelled on my misfortune I chose to steal a silver lining: at least I’d be early for my lesson- no rushing necessary. That I popped into Tesco for a sausage roll and subsequently food poisoning may be utterly unrelated but I smell voodoo, the karma of non- pacificists!
(See previous review: http://thehairyteacher.com/to-pin-it-down/ )
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Below you will find a link to a review on Tiffany’s cafe which was located in the Batthyány tér market hall on the first floor. Be warned: the place no longer exists!!! This oft times can be the trouble with an ever-changing city. Consistency can suffer and while people may argue that the best will survive, in a town, like many others, where money matters, it’s not always a guarantee.
Still with the constant growth comes a re-energising, a certain state of vibrancy which allows a once well-travelled teacher to find a journey on the interior…
http://thehairyteacher.com/breakfast-or-not/
©TheHairyTeacher2013
The trouble is you never want to see it my way
You always want to have it your way
like a broken down record you’re stuck in the past
skipping and scratching along Old 55s highway.
you asked me to be your crutch
and then you left me in the lurch
you asked me to be your guide
but you never acted such.
You dealt drinks like a croupie
smiles like a film star
but now that I know you
I can only say this:
Your heart holds nothing but that you wanted it that way.
The pain that you’ve chosen you designed all anyway.
It may be you lost control
It may be you’re in a hole
But the fingering of records of our past
will not make the moments last
but the delving into the stream
will not reverse this dream.
And you might well call it a nightmare
you might even shout traitor
you might even be right when I never tried to save you.
But it was never about me, but you,
and what I could bring along.
It was never about us two
but whether I would sing your song.
And from a distance I read about the pain
and when I returned I experienced it again.
but I was no longer convinced,
I was no longer so sure
if the friend I once had
was my friend anymore.
And when you held me in contempt
I swore I could never forgive you,
but I did.
Your number erased from my phone
came back all by itself.
I remember the gig where we took to the floor
spooking all the natives into the shadows.
And it all could have been good,
it all could have worked,
but instead I had to fight them off as they dragged you out the back door.
Instead I had to bleed while you escaped once more.
Instead the one who’d caused the pain was the one to suffer the least all over again.
Instead the ones around you wilting were held dear
and I just stood there,
I just stood there.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Out of town but not out of town this private hostel sits on 2 major transport lines, the 61 tram, and the 29 bus. A ten minute walk, if you’re taking it easy, either side of these and you’ve got the 129 bus or the 5 bus. Apart from the 29 which takes you North to Óbuda and towards the Roman settlements, all others take you East or South towards the river, the castle, and the city centre.
A night bus passes by every hour and is accessible from a myriad of points throughout the city.
Beds are provided in dorms or private at prices which imply hostel, not gap year-Daddy’s wallet.
If on a brief visit then the city is your calling but if allowed a night or two to recuperate the hostel also provides its own entertainment with locals dropping in, and Peti the Proprietor is always willing to bang out a tune. Be warned: Peti’s got a good and varied taste in music which he may employ to keep you from your Zzzs. Your choice!;)
©TheHairyTeacher2013
On the morning balcony
the pine tree guard looming all round
at the outpost of my vision on his perch
the dawn patrol is headed by this silhouette
somewhere far off his follwers respond
a chorus of recognition
nearby some jackdaws squabble over pittens
their squawks and chatter no less meaningful
a fly, persistent, buzzes by
and almost unrelenting before he moves off
the garden in the cooling shade
already feels the pending heat
the air moves sluggishly:
another hot day’s coming.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
