It is the aura,
Not necessarily what you purchase,
It is the sour lemon on the side,
Lights and movement,
Stores and stands,
Painters and photographers,
Hotels and benches,
Dolls and stamps,
Post-cards and bracelets,
Oversized cups of fresh, white beer.
It is sitting in the Vaci Utza for hours, observing the seen
and unseen, not having to worry about anything or anyone.
-Or maybe it's just being young again,
young and irrational
August 25, 2009
June 15, 2009
Idealism
Even if the coffee jar is empty,
Even if the luggage is packed and ready to go,
Even if the car is not in the garage,
Even if Sunday does not include football,
A man doesn’t just wake up in the morning feeling nothing whatsoever.
He might be in love though
Even if the luggage is packed and ready to go,
Even if the car is not in the garage,
Even if Sunday does not include football,
A man doesn’t just wake up in the morning feeling nothing whatsoever.
He might be in love though
May 17, 2009
Stereotypes
Pregnant women,
motionless embryos,
heineken and corona,
Trips to Amherst,
loud rock-n’-roll,
two unstable seconds,
Deaths of friends,
perhaps their cruel and
unforgettable ignorance,
Sirens and angels,
madness and blood,
wheels and pavements,
Skulls and sinners,
Saviors and addicts,
The wrong ones are not the ones to pay.
motionless embryos,
heineken and corona,
Trips to Amherst,
loud rock-n’-roll,
two unstable seconds,
Deaths of friends,
perhaps their cruel and
unforgettable ignorance,
Sirens and angels,
madness and blood,
wheels and pavements,
Skulls and sinners,
Saviors and addicts,
The wrong ones are not the ones to pay.
April 17, 2009
Autumn
Everything stays in the darkness, dreams fall apart,
Secrets you never told me spread through the city,
And the sun goes down. Rain starts falling,
Summer’s over, forever, or at least until next year
By the door, an old woman standing,
She’s holding a letter, a box of full bees,
And a car passes, water all around,
The old soaked lady is now, gone.
Like a knight, you make me want to commit,
Like a fight, this turns into drama,
Like a tree, the story is about to shatter,
Our story is about to end
Everything stays in the darkness
Dreams fall apart,
Secrets you never told me spread through the city
Tonight
Secrets you never told me spread through the city,
And the sun goes down. Rain starts falling,
Summer’s over, forever, or at least until next year
By the door, an old woman standing,
She’s holding a letter, a box of full bees,
And a car passes, water all around,
The old soaked lady is now, gone.
Like a knight, you make me want to commit,
Like a fight, this turns into drama,
Like a tree, the story is about to shatter,
Our story is about to end
Everything stays in the darkness
Dreams fall apart,
Secrets you never told me spread through the city
Tonight
April 12, 2009
Winter
I love you that your swaying smile follows me around.
I love that you wear the gray sweater whenever
snow falls upon Autumn Dr.
I love that the house smells like fresh coffee in mornings
after long nights of thunder.
Loving you means constantly fighting the
entire world, I know that, and I don't mind,
because Seth,
I think I might have fallen for You.
I love that you wear the gray sweater whenever
snow falls upon Autumn Dr.
I love that the house smells like fresh coffee in mornings
after long nights of thunder.
Loving you means constantly fighting the
entire world, I know that, and I don't mind,
because Seth,
I think I might have fallen for You.
Spring
When the weatherman announces a
tornado watch and trees start moving in
semi-circles, nearly fragile in your eyes,
When locked in a room for hours,
no windows, only chairs, calculators
and deep fried bananas,
The next best thing besides
Dying alone at the strike of summer,
Is seeing you again, because it has been
Way too long
tornado watch and trees start moving in
semi-circles, nearly fragile in your eyes,
When locked in a room for hours,
no windows, only chairs, calculators
and deep fried bananas,
The next best thing besides
Dying alone at the strike of summer,
Is seeing you again, because it has been
Way too long
March 08, 2009
Moving On
God is ubiquitous-
At least that’s what my parents think.
If going to the antique church on Francisco Street
And waiting for an unknown image of a doll maker
To appear out of the blue (sailing) helps one be more
Faithful, optimistic, appreciative- then let it be.
Let the orphan pray for his life, for another day of
Air, and food. Let the widow beg to die since the only man
She was ever able to love is dead, irreplaceable.
If walking down gloomy Georgetown streets at night and
Visualizing the unique melody of a single saxophone
Makes you think about your past, people you may
Never see again, your family and acquaintances, then
Let it be, because there are no guaranties that a Godly
Figure will fall from the sky and lead you backwards to
What’s really important, to you.
At least that’s what my parents think.
If going to the antique church on Francisco Street
And waiting for an unknown image of a doll maker
To appear out of the blue (sailing) helps one be more
Faithful, optimistic, appreciative- then let it be.
Let the orphan pray for his life, for another day of
Air, and food. Let the widow beg to die since the only man
She was ever able to love is dead, irreplaceable.
If walking down gloomy Georgetown streets at night and
Visualizing the unique melody of a single saxophone
Makes you think about your past, people you may
Never see again, your family and acquaintances, then
Let it be, because there are no guaranties that a Godly
Figure will fall from the sky and lead you backwards to
What’s really important, to you.
January 29, 2009
December 05, 2008
Smithsonian At Eleven
Old farm, red roof,
Tiny hoofs on the roof,
Piles of snow, so clear,
Smithsonian at eleven.
Listen to the sound of exploded lights,
The excitement before a Wizards’ game,
Tourists fascinated by the white doom,
And the National Mall at night.
Walk to the metro station, the Smithsonian,
When it’s really dark outside, at eleven o’clock,
And meet me when
The next train arrives at the platform.
Tiny hoofs on the roof,
Piles of snow, so clear,
Smithsonian at eleven.
Listen to the sound of exploded lights,
The excitement before a Wizards’ game,
Tourists fascinated by the white doom,
And the National Mall at night.
Walk to the metro station, the Smithsonian,
When it’s really dark outside, at eleven o’clock,
And meet me when
The next train arrives at the platform.
October 28, 2008
May
Her sudden death shifts everything,
Rapidity turns into fear,
Black puddles of sadness, my tears, your blood,
I was always yours, even when you
Were too sick to open your eyes.
The ambulance is on its way,
Flesh and bones are weightless, words indicate nothing.
Estimation of unsure inaccuracy, the effort
Is understood, the cost is not yet revealed.
She reaches the last moments.
Her voice is so slender, breakable, just like you.
It is a final exchange, the very last glance,
The rules are known, the game is being played
Every single day, and at some point, it is time to
Give up,
Lose
Rapidity turns into fear,
Black puddles of sadness, my tears, your blood,
I was always yours, even when you
Were too sick to open your eyes.
The ambulance is on its way,
Flesh and bones are weightless, words indicate nothing.
Estimation of unsure inaccuracy, the effort
Is understood, the cost is not yet revealed.
She reaches the last moments.
Her voice is so slender, breakable, just like you.
It is a final exchange, the very last glance,
The rules are known, the game is being played
Every single day, and at some point, it is time to
Give up,
Lose
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