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The essence of being

The fury fighting back

The fury fighting back

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That the light would have faded but chose not to,

that it could have danced the shadow(s) down a different road;

Instead it chose to serve a whim, a purely infintesimal,

but for a change the pin begot the stack.

Alive among the riddles of the mind,

the answers seething, wreathing without grip.

Slowly falling further into a sense of mute hostility,

the words they’d shout meaning nothing but their sounds.

Not through gagging did the final silence fall,

but by shouting at it all till all n’ all.

The subterfuge had dissipated amongst the cracks,

the anger and the fury fighting back.

©TheHairyTeacher2014

35 Café

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Bike themed and youthful the problem with this place is that it doesn’t take itself seriously enough as a business. My entering was greeted by surprise and my order was misheard.
Maybe I’m In a mood and maybe it is functional in a way that would usually serve but today that’s not enough.
After sitting stewing I decided to repeat my request and sure enough the girl had been allowing me the pick of the ziros kenyérs. I shot before asking questions: a trait I hate in others and which I’ve indulged myself just now to hypocritical proportions.
Now hunger tantrums aside let me take another look around. It is a basic spot complete with broken toilet (ladies) at the moment but with booth style seats it surely can be of use. Still in a district with so many alternatives being caught downstairs in the gloom at lunchtime is low on the list. Come nighttime, come difference perhaps but for now best take my word for it, unless like me your curiosity is greater than some random stranger’s opinion.
“Texas and whiskey… funerals”

 

https://www.facebook.com/35CafeSzerviz

 

©TheHairyTeacher2014

 

Hecc

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Whether this place turns out to be a joke remains to be seen but for the time being on a grey February morn*, just shy of my next class, it offers respite from all the timetabling and rushing. Whew!
It’s modern enough in feel but cosy enough to be homely. It’s not all sharp edges and minamilism.
Located just across from Erzsebet square with the pending Akvarium reopening promising an exciting and vibrant summer ahead, it could all come down to location location location.
A badly printed flyer brought me here: that and my inability to read. It said 50% off…but on second glance I realise it’s only for alcohol, and while that may be good tidings usually, there is another sting in the tail. All alcohol excluding beer and wine!!! As if there was any other types of alcohol!!! Whiskey, vodka, pálinka…they’re not alcohol. They’re death wishes in a bottle, unless you drink in moderation, but a place like this doesn’t promote a thing like that.
Now if they had 50% off their merely average coffee I’d be much happier. Grey mornings lean on grey moods perhaps. Bahhhh!

 

*A review late coming. Nevertheless on recently passing by the place remains the same, and empty. The newly opened Akvárium and surrounds have stolen any chance at thunder here methinks!!!

 

https://www.facebook.com/Hecc.Cafe

 

©TheHairyTeacher2014

A Monday Sunday

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The tshirt tells a story
And I listen most intently
The truth or fiction of it
Left for another time.
The night has left me awkward
The personal juices lost
And the bare fleshed memory
Comes at such a cost.
The morning light with morning sights
Has caught me unawares
I tremble beneath a trimbley
I shudder behind my shades.
I let the street cross under
And let the bridge ship by
I harness hope from nothingness
And count the lives in time.
Inside the church of everybody
I sell my soul to God
But come feeling hard done by
Needing that hairy dog.
I inflict interest from onlookers
As I shave my way to work.
Outside dishevelled emptiness
Inside resides much worse.

©TheHairyTeacher2014

The Way of the Baby

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I wear the coat of one brother
and perhaps even his jocks,
the jeans of the other
but I think not his socks.
My jumper is my brother-in-law’s
and the undershirt too,
but perhaps the shirt only
was bought somewhere, new…
but not by me:)

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Her Mysterious

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She curiously inclines herself to look
to search
to seek.
She’s prettied herself right up tonight
to find
to clutch
to keep.
But her face it tells of tears just fresh
that she hides beneath a blush.
And her eyes they tell of painful things
she’ll never to you entrust!

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Guilt

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I’m eating her away with the filth of my mind:
at once consuming and consumed.
I relish in the torrent of her flow, from a height,
her head, cascading.
I wonder at the slight valley,
which runs between neck and shoulder socket,
almost broad, almost muscular, always sensual.
I wonder as I drink the unblessed blood of Christ,
the draught that would still water be without Him –
it is not the best till last, but nearly,
it is not the end because the sulking lady’s skinny.
I am devouring the room with my ego,
and the room smiles, stretches, and…
once more enslaves me

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Given Meaning

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The meaning of life is to ask
more questions than we can ever hope to answer.
To constantly be curious, to beckon light from the infinite darkness.
The secret to happiness is accepting some questions can never be answered
but will always remain points for debate, for discussion.
To invest too much in convincing others is to deny them, first and foremost, their right to differ, while also ignoring the fact that you may be wrong.

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Copyright © Martin O'Regan
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