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A guy called Michael

You’ve been dead for years now
Something horrible I was told
Pulled from that watery embrace
Finally swaddled in the end.
You spoke of death as welcome
Your parents would be there
And the people who used and abused you
Would have no power in that place.
In the homeless man your memory
Through the visage, perhaps the light
But in a moment you were alive again
Till that thought once more took flight.

© The Hairy Teacher, 2020/9/11, 7.55a.m., Auchan parking lot, Kaszásdűlő ( work bound )

Encroaching Humanity

Like father like son
The coupled inheritance
The straight road home
Forever lost –
For never after.
The sway and stagger
Mapped out memory
Sometimes a storyline
Sometimes an emptiness.
The youth takes point
The aged no longer
Today as yesterday
Tomorrow too.
The patterns drawn
The models mimicked
The splintered eye
Remains untouched.
The saints stagnated
The devils drunk
Prometheus freed
From a bound humanity.

© The Hairy Teacher, 8th September, 2020, 18:16 a Bravos bárban, Kaszásdűlő

Another Mask

A little wipe
To wipe away the face
To not lose face
But still retain the mask.
To be the actor
On and off the stage
To hide the self
To never open up.
To repress all thoughts
While living out real dreams
Emotions hidden
Behind the silver screens.
The camera started lying
While the smile remained
The sorrow long ago
Breached that cool façade.
A tissue in the trash
All powder stained
The tears that never fell
Were never claimed.
So through the tunnel
Emerging otherwise
The mask removed
Remaining just the lies.

© The Hairy Teacher, 8th September, 2020, 17:45kb a Bravos bárban, Kaszásdűlő

Mephisto-ising

Klaus in foolish folly –
For what other?
Selling more than
the trinkets he’d receive.
Martin understanding
Yet surrendering
Wrapped in fine excuses
In exchange.
One sees the other
And dares judgement
While others too
And onwards down the line.
Selling out
And buying in
Are not dissimilar –
Retaining our hypocrisy
In the end.
A daughter’s words
That paint an anguish
Not believed
Calling out the adult world
Till told „shut up”.
At least a lesson taught
That was learned well;
She lets no silence
For herself to breach.
Challenging the ire then
Moving up higher then
There is hope
But teenage years lie in between.
The peer factory
That factors fears right in
A system built on
Rebellious rigidity.

© The Hairy Teacher, 7th September, 2020, 18:15kb a HÉV-en

The Stars Of Elsewhere

“One dream the less, one experience the more!” Géza Gárdonyi: Egri Csillagok


Let it go she said
But I couldn’t
And yet she whispered once again
Let it go, it’s gone, it’s over
I can’t I replied I cannot
My resolve stamped out on every single word
But you’ll have to she implored
And I begged why
Was it not enough to learn inside the dream?
When it’s time there is no turning back the clock
Ah, what machination stands so resolved against love?
It’s me she almost sneered, at least in memory
And I’ve decided that’s it’s time we said goodbye
Tis not adieu if I do not reciprocate
And neither love And onwards I must go
No I cried not this time, oh no you don’t
And I expelled her from my thoughts
Like umpteen times before.


© The Hairy Teacher, edited to finish Vasmacska kávézó Obudaban, 2020/9/9, 11:02 a.m.

Winter is coming… Again

Winter is coming… Again

(International Poetry Day 21 March, 2018)
The spring just turned and fled
Before my very eyes.
One day the warmth came, gone the next,
And again the dreaded ice.
I wonder if this year at all
We’ll see anything but snow?
The white sheen spread across the land –
Though romantic – now must go!

© The Hairy Teacher, March, 2018

It comes naturally

It comes naturally

The giant drill bit seering the muddied earth
A choir of angels in tow with every twist
The coil resounding the voices aligned
Till the foreman’s call brings silence.
Then the majorettes come-screeching
Whining? Marching?
Tap-dancing a tattoo?
From a whisper to a roar
Though not yet a low flying jet.
Is it Paddy’s day? New York?
Is spontaneous celebration the order of the day?
Surely not! And then-
Then two workmen appear…
Pushing three lockers on wheels
Grim faces hiding, like the shut doors,
What’s really going on inside.

Le Petit Esprit

Le Petit Esprit

A broader understanding spilt through the cracks
Poured through,
Pored over
But initially, accidentally
I opened up, my brother
Or at least found reason
And now sit-
A yesterpast-
Less vacant
More fulfilled
More enlightened
But less alive.
The numb-drum moments our debauchery
Inclined us to graves -pre-humously-
Inclining us to states debilitating…
Yet invigorating.
For was it not today in the half death
(Not the Petit Mort)
That I did not waver.
I stood profound
And let the criticism wash over me:
Not insulted- but defined.

Olay Ulay Down

Olay Ulay Down

The flesh attacks itself and in so doing, the mind
But the mind itself attacks prevailing over discourse-
The mind itself runs riot creating possibilities
And those self-same eventualities arise in the broken flesh.
My body is the sum total of misdeeds and misthinkings
Of a fight externally bound, as well as internal.
No man is an island and even where he makes it
The mind itself constructs the tidal wave that breaks it.
The shattered illusion of independence, of an individuality
Lies forlorn, abandoned, once the mind erupts.
The vacant words however hollowly expressed,
Ring beyond their definitions – spell of madness.
And so the flesh upon itself does pounce
But because the mind’s its cruel master,
And so intent on its determination…
But sometimes its merely degeneration.

The Library

As of February this year I will be starting up a library section as part of my service and students are free to choose from a list which I will publish online and which I will then deliver to them at our next meeting. The books will include, mainly, fiction but there are also some course books and grammar books which I will be pleased to offer. A comprehensive list will follow shortly.

Thanks

Martin

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