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Where's the home of the stranger if not in a nameless grave,
Providing him with peace and silence;
His gravestone seems blank, but it tells thousands of untold stories
About his damnation and condemnation;
Living among people without feeling anything what runs that nation
Is painful in life, and even afterlife
When he knows it right that that name on the grave is quite unwanted,
And won't be visited, only haunted;
Haunted by thoughts and doubts of the self's unsaid words,
And the surrounding world's empty words
That had been waited by the stranger so eagerly to utter something;
The empty words should have uttered something,
Something that a stranger never could utter correctly:
Home.
01.08.2019
Hurricane, hurricane, hurricane,
Inside it, houses flying with gardens,
Different elements and temperaments.
Cows, cars, and pennies are flying,
Green, gray and grim trees are flying;
Sights pop up and fly away.
Inside it, there's me,
Sometimes in houses,
But mainly flying.
It's a hurricane,
Hurricane,
Again.
11.08.2019
Like a frozen stone
Without a glance being blown,
I got thrown away.


I was flying in silence,
Then, I moaned up without resilience
On a brick.


Through an eaves,
I fell into the stream's waves,
Unheard, unhurt.


Frozen imprisonment
Where the jailer is the detachment,
Not somewhat cold.


The spring is sobbing,
Its tears are smoothly rushing,
Pushing to a land.


Among stones standing,
Patience is suffocating, ending,
Drying crying.


Smooth hands,
Promising their hold never ends,
They disbanded.


In a new stream,
Me and solitude in a team,
But it's all fine.


Sleeping is the only way,
Not seeing when we're thrown away,
Again, again.
Translation of my old Hungarian poem, "Kört kör követ".

03.08.2019
The world could remain gas and fume,
The woe could remain lonely doom,
The words could avoid the plume,
The wilt could avoid the bloom;
If the womb could be my tomb.
14.09.2019
As in villages as in big cities,
As in classrooms as in societies,
I'm alone with my strange personalities.


The eyes, the smiles, the frowns, the clowns,
The hardships and their ups and downs
Have no affect on my daily rounds.


Even the precious words are empty,
No mean defences, no more acting gently;
No more need to fake my misery intelligently.
28.09.2019
How many times I betrayed myself for two pennies of loneliness?
The act is so old, and after time, poverty is the best teacher,
But there are evergrey examples that never change;
I am one of them, for ever strange.


Did Judas' tinkling silvers burn brands into my hands?
Or by any chance, I am himself, suffering through centuries,
Living my own betrayal against myself and fans;
Just as I sold the prophet for the centuries?


Is there any chance that this world were real, all the happenings?
I truly suffered through histories and left behind all blessings,
Tormented by living and imagining;
I forgot everything about me.
15.09.2019
Before my deoxyribonucleic code has been sent
To my mother by a male parent,
I was on his land of sand,
As barely apparent.


(spermicide)


2. Then, I was finally sent
Into my female parent,
On another land,
Barely planned.


A couple of months went that I spent
In my mother's abdomen rent
On that green land,
Barely planned.


Then, my rentee went to that land,
Flying to the land of crescent
Where I was to be meant
For a big moment.


(embryonic)


5. The event happened, the end of the rent,
Under the flag with the red crescent;
I was by a Jewish name penned,
On the fifth May after Lent.


Falling into my mother's hand,
Still without any dent,
Back, I was re-sent
To motherland.


On that land, red in discontent,
White until the Lent's end,
And green at Lent,
I had one parent.


I had no knowledge when he went,
But I was without a male parent,
With only two women, a grand-
And an abnormal parent.


His furious leaving left an advent
As my mother madwomaned
With a schizophrenic scent,
To madhouse "never" sent.


The balance keeping us under tent
Was our draconian grandparent
With an infinite financial grant
That let us live on that land.


For alms, we walked to granny frequent',
And I loved her as my parent
For that little attachment
I barely experienced.


The further notions I experienced:
I was sent and sent and sent;
Nursed, schooled, churched,
And kindergartened.


But even before my childhood could end,
I found myself hard to befriend;
Playing the play of a dement
With an unmatched brand.


A playful kid, maybe too vehement,
Among others, a crazy element,
I was, but inside silent,
Over-vigilant.


I liked to observe others' comportment;
What was that I have been meant,
What made me outstand
Like an alien, mutant.


Step by step, I wished the end
Of flying dishes and plant'
At my domicile rent,
End of the torment.


(pubescent)


17. I wished to vanish from the torment
Of social-antisocial banishment,
But I saw no escape slant,
Only in my poetic lament.


Though, before those sad lament,
I tried to see my life and mend
My heart with compliment,
Some failed love event.


Minutes, days, months and years went,
A lot of school skills that I learnt,
But the best one in my hand
Was the ability to pretend.


Even if I swam well in crosscurrent,
I wished to end, leave that land;
Searched by my male parent,
I planned to visit his land.


Then, my mother went to madhouse mend,
For what, I was by my university banned
To work that went well, but I meant
To start or end a life in sand.


(twentified)


22. So, as my twenty-first birthday present
Finally, I Africanly citizened
To know my descent
And the crescent.


Beyond the French and Arabic accent,
I manned myself on that land
Where I was landed and
It's not yet ended.


Changing the cross to crescent,
I could be happy and...
But people prevent
Every event.


I'd been married as I planned,
But my fam is an accident
As my birth in an extent,
In this actual land.


What to do, socially I try to pretend
That I am indeed an element,
But my DNA was meant
To disappointment.


(at present)


27. Seen these verses, it's abhorrent
As well as writing a lament,
But as a birthday present,
I wish a Happy - End.
My only birthday gift as usual, from me to myself.

03.02.2019.
I dreamt a dream that some demons must have sent,
Feeling all the pains I underwent;
No pictures, no hues, just the feeling,
All my bruises and cuts without healing.


I dreamt a dream that was set as sent by Death,
But it did fit no reasoning, nor math;
No relief, nor aftermath, just the moaning,
Like a self-pity-full, endless night and morning.


I dreamt a dream that was meant to be my end,
A fearful damnation, not mend;
All the pain and immense sadness,
Making every deathwish sickeningly reckless.


I was sent a senseless dream with Death being mad,
Vengefully meaning me dead;
I felt blueishly cold and in dreadful purple,
Hiding in my last reckless prayers as a turtle.


I was meant to dream a dream that was chance or warning,
Putting up the black phone calling;
With every evidence Death's hands hang,
I wished not dreaming that dream while it just rang, rang, rang...
19.02.2019
It comes with big fireworks of happiness
Like an extra life that revives you at the final battle,
Like a compliment that makes believe in yourself,
Like an advent of a person with radiating hope.


Euphoria - what it's called - catches your moments,
Paints everything with eternal-like vivid hues,
Triumphs your whole past in a meaningful-like song,
Brings you a goal that has never existed.


Then, it just stops the time around you,
Lets you see the grey cloud of the present,
Hear the empty vacuum of the past,
Get dizzied by the blur of the future.


It holes your soul with the deepest pit
That eats up all the hopes remained or desired,
All the energy left leaving only fatigue,
All the senses that might make the soul living.


The Mark of Death spreads its curse all over the body,
Including the soul that just sits, lays inside,
Letting the whole world behind half-living,
Accepting death already by my side.
17.02.2019
O' you, who's been taken to mouths as hot honey,
As with great frequency as with sweet ploy -
Playing with the temperature of the air as kids' toy,
With joy that no child could easily accompany.


With the inner peace of an empty, blue lagoon -
While on the same token of an inhabited island -
With white-hot lava rolling along from the highland,
Narcotising even the highest creatures by swoon.


Might the oxygene pass its place to ecstasy,
Might the redundancy of other chemicals -
While you play with wild colours charming musicals,
So easily understandable, yet so complex, so fussy.


More of that rolling lava you fulfilled my veins with!
More of that turquoise peace in my mind!
You may try to hide your treasure, but I will find -
In any entity, any city, reality or a myth...


Please, rise me up from the greyness of the days,
Even when your greatness passed over my worldly says yet.
18.10.2018
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