I cannot leave behind what I have not forsaken
And so it is, that
While the distance grows most physical
I’ll be by you
As you by me
Our hearts not tempered
By the sheer
Logic
And bitterness
Of other people’s
Fears!
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Author Archives: martinoregan
Monday
Out off the blocks,
trembling forward.
The grace robbed
by the memory.
The mind inspired,
alert
to repetition,
stretching, exercising,
conspiracy.
The force of the road –
pulsating,
the joints warn,
send signals
of doubt,
perhaps shame.
They wanted to be
but couldn’t,
at least not
anymore.
The snowfall
unexpected, yet
not surprising:
there was a hint
at this,
even forecasted.
But the heavy flakes
stain the scene
allowing a litter,
confetti curtain,
A Monday morning’s
company.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Listening
There was little I could do
beyond listen to the sighs.
My mind fatigued was not
about to offer up surprise.
Instead I surrendered in myself
the chalice of my mind –
up to the break of day’s delight,
up to the end of time.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Good God!
Highfalutin promises
predictably denied,
and the bell
peeled
and the feet stomped,
on and on.
Ignorant, tolerant-
the two worlds fused,
till the negative
and positive
complementing,
compelled…
Man to think again
life to soar again
beyond the known
realms of a
limited
imagination.
All hail our Deity
the one true calamity
who could’ve
given life,
given choice,
but needn’t have
included our
flawed humanity!
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Extended
The failing virtue
measured by the
rising vice.
Both in place
according to the
guilt complex.
And so a mind
made redundant seeks
to balance
the equation.
In search of
spirituality
it shakes its
heathen flag
against the
grey sky of
an early morn.
Beyond the traffic’s
tempest
there floats to
reason, alms:
the supplication
necessary
through the toxic
fumes.
In search again
in search as
always.
Enlightened I
shall carry
opposites – as questions –
in a gently tightened
fist;
ready to pulse,
to fizz,
to judge.
Ready to open –
extended…
The palm.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Eternity
That death may liberate me
into the brief eternity.
When spiritually inclined,
I’ll fade
And, fundamentally, then
I’m dead:
And all my life before will cease,
and nothing more will exist to me.
At least this, and nothing more.
Nothing else it is I’m looking for.
The rotten truth
the freedom set,
my bones to ashes
will be met,
and cycle, circles,
nowt profound…
Just life itself
in the round and round.
Earth to self and sun
and stars.
What suffering now
Will, no one cares:
But, alas this lesson
yet to learn
for those who hope
in others yearn.
A life once got
ever anon.
A moment spent
too soon is gone.
But maybe memory is all.
In cellular derived
and growth
so up again from
ashes drawn.
Up again to
life once more!
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Colourful
On a cold grey balcony
on a cold grey afternoon
sitting snuggly, on
the edge of chill –
with a new grey
cardigan
and a cup of earl grey tea,
a breeze for a second
took my attention from reading.
The tea’s paper tag
‘black tea’ it announced
fluttered in this breeze
on a white window.
The air still and colourless
but grey at its depth –
white and black
all shift to grey –
as I sat back,
reading my book of
short stories.
The briefest of moments
just then captured me
and the slightest of breezes
moved me to think
moved my environment,
The fine hairs on my cheeks;
I felt its freshness
its message.
I was alive.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Along the Way
Along the highways
and the byways
the highroads
and the low,
chasing ill-begotten
dreams
along the swampy
seams of my soul.
Forever searching
feeling lost
the future set
at any cost.
Along the pathways
banks and shores,
I was what now I’ll never know.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
This City
I smell the streets –
They smell me.
We rub up against each other –
Knowingly.
In the shade
The stink still falters,
While in the heat its perfume alters.
The dead, the dying,
The unmoving few
In doorways drink, that’s
Nothing new.
The swank, the silly
The squandered dreams,
Chase behind- unknowingly
on these social seams.
The pretty, the wealthy,
They speak without clue
Of injustice and poverty
– As if they really knew!
The diet of greed
Has led us astray
Each one of us guilty
For it being this way.
Tomorrow again I’ll stalk
Shadows and dreams.
I’ll count myself lucky as ever
As if I know what that means.
©TheHairyTeacher2013
Good Marketing
Set away within the framework interior of the Lehel market building this Fancy* little Cafe has its general appeal. Below on the market floor, the raw meat, and fresh fruit and veg vies for purchase on the punters’ purse strings while on this floor in the environs, cheap clothes and shoes make promises in price that I know from experience they will not keep.
Never mind because if you’ve found yourself with time, maybe with shopping bags weighing you down, this little cafe offers hope in terms of well made coffee.
A polished affair of wood and brass inside, there are also the obligatory metal seats outside and whereas they may not offer the same luxuriant feel they are perched at the railing, overlooking the activities below.
Coffee is freshly ground here and can be bought by the bag as well as enjoyed in brew. Other beverages are also on offer, teas etc., and there are the compulsory marlenkas (layered cakes) on the counter. Sometimes there’s more, sometimes less, but it is a place to pass a while, the atmosphere within the shell of Lehel market building, abounding.
*http://www.fancycafe.hu/
©TheHairyTeacher2013