Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
KNS Feb 2021
I stand and wait for the 115
Or 15 bus to arrive
It's cold, I blow an icy vapour with every breath

A sea of umbrellas
Hoodies
Raincoats
Dreary faces

Longing for freer times
since fleeting, since forgotten, since lost
Pudless stepped in without hesitation
Or avoided with passive agression

Like their lives
Like ours

The water adresses what we can (could)
not
Write this while waiting for the bus and having my coffee.
Colin Mulligan Apr 2020
Walking down past
The Parliament buildings;
Riding past Hero’s square
In an open topped bus,
Under the watchful eye
Of Archangel Michael;
Buying tickets for the hot subway
And having to get off at the first stop
Because we were headed the wrong way;
Strolling Along the Danube
But then stopping to cry
At the bronze monument of shoes
That brought the past
Marching menacingly back
Into the disbelieving now.
Lora Mar 2020
we are sitting on the outside corridor
and we listening to indie music at 3 am
i like these kind of nights
it is so peaceful
budapest is in front of our feet
it looks like a jewelry box
i fell in love with the city
and you at the same time
i can see the ferris wheel from here
where you kissed me first
your kiss was like mint and cigarette
still a perfect combination
budapest and you
Random Guy Jan 2020
grey skies
busy streets
wish you're here with me

cold nights
warm breaths
all the lights are on in the city

early sunsets
late sunrises
time's a little bit scary

when I'm there at budapest
you're all I've been thinking
baby
Ainaa Abdul Feb 2018
I could tell you all the things I see in Budapest,
but nothing I see is bigger than myself.
but let me try, I'll take you into my world,
this place I temporarily call home,
this place where my see ya, is goodbye
but their Czia (see ya) means hi.

That time when I walked down Rakoczi,
with the awkward smiles they gave me,
it must be the sneakers I wear,
or the hijab on my head,
but I will never know,
because I do not speak their language.

That time when I took the train to Deak Franc
where they have stations with yellow lamps,
and every letter has dots and dashes,
how was I to know tickets should be validated,
well, my existence here wasn't.

That time when I thought rolled up pillows
are quilt,
and that time when I close up
from people without guilt.
I tried, smiled once smiled twice,
smiled the third time but nothing- still closed.

That time when I found the vegan Goulash,
while I was trying to find the vegan Goulash,
Paid 4 dollars in a 4 star cafe,
But she smiled at me just the same,
Although I was thrifty and left them none.
Aaron LaLux Jan 2017
Her eyes look past,

past my postured figure,
past the drunkard who’s ****** himself,
who sulks in his **** soaked pants,
sulking in drowned regrets and fog,

past the high heeled woman,
who steps over the drunkard’s liquid lines,
which flow across soot stained concrete,
upon this boulevard on this street in Budapest,

we could have been anywhere.

She’s in a bad mood,
doesn’t want to talk,
doesn’t want to listen,
probably doesn’t want to even live,

I understand her,
better than I care to admit,
she’s battling a lung affection,
she’s battling the delusioned stares of countless lustful men,

I tell her she doesn’t have to talk,
I tell her she doesn’t have to listen,
I tell her she’s welcome to come in,
to my sanctuary and simply exist there,

she refuses all my offers,
and I wonder,
what she sees,
when she stares past everything she sees,

I tell her I’m going to write a poem about her,
she asks why,
I tell her I’m a poet and that’s what I do,
I write about moments just like this one,

even though I know words are only words.

I know the frustration,
of trying to explain the unexplainable,
I know the frustration,
of trying to put all this in prose that’s easily digestible,

and herein,
lies the paradox,
if ignorance is bliss,
then genius is torture,

and we are both tortured,
and we are both in denial,
and we both know,
we may never see each other again.

Her eyes look past,

past my postured figure,
past the drunkard who’s ****** himself,
who sulks in his **** soaked pants,
sulking in drowned regrets and fog,

past the high heeled woman,
who steps over the drunkard’s liquid lines,
which flow across soot stained concrete,
upon this boulevard on this street in Budapest,

we could have been anywhere…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

07/09/16
Another True Story...
Aaron LaLux Nov 2016
Everywhere I go,
there are too many pillows,
and I’m not complaining I’m just saying,
it’s like I’m living inside some sort of reality show,

so far gone out of our minds into these experiences we go,

in the pursuit of happiness,
we catch the wave go with the flow and away we go,

so,
certain of nothing,
living,
the dream one nightmare at a time,

writing,
these words,
right after she’s left me,
like everything we experienced was just a dream,

or so it seems,

met amongst the sweat and steam,
of some thermal baths,
on the Buda side,
of Budapest,

bubbles whipped into a froth,
wandering but not lost,
feeling like a God,
gone but not forgot,

at this sacred sanctuary,
on the Buda side of Budapest,
I’m a runaway still on the run,
so sanctuaries like this are where I do rest,

in the pursuit of happiness,

some call it a challenge I call it a quest,

life is a lesson it is not a test,

losers say no while winners say yes,

Yes,

on the Buda side,
of Budapest,
this was the setting,
in which we met,

she was with her friend,
a lesbian from ******,
that’s an island in Greece,
for those that don’t know,

she happened to be a poet too,
so naturally we vibed well,
because when two or more poets get together,
it feels like we’re part of the artist cartel,

we got those emotions if you need them,
come on over and get your fix,
just a little motivation,
a rest stop a re-up on the road to happiness,

in the pursuit of happiness,

we have plenty of experiences,
we roll dice and take chances,
life itself is a gamble we all lose,
because nobody gets out of here alive,

I invited,
her and her friend to dinner,
they accepted so we met up,
a few hours later,

the plan was to go out to one of the ruins bars,
get some beers or whatever,
instead we ended up climbing a bridge,
and watching the lights of the city in all their grandeur,

fast forward,
we’re back at my place,
making love on a bed,
Baraka streaming from the projector screen,
onto the white wall between the floor and high ceiling,
melting reeling shaking grasping releasing,
feeling like two entire universes for the first time meeting,
she was coming I was going letting go at the same time holding,
it’s funny how sometimes a good grip can feel so freeing,
flying high lying down she’s riding me she’s coming now,
she’s Greek a Goddess call her Athena I mean this wow,
I’m surfing Her wave like Poseidon a titan live at the Apollo,
an all mighty Aphrodite laying down but not sleeping no Hypnos,

so high so fly,
feels like there’s wings coming outta my head,
she’s still on top of me so I turn her over on the bed,
to find a tattoo on her neck and here is what it read,

“Pursuit of Happiness”,

in words written in cursive,
this is beyond ironic,
this is cosmic this is honest,
this is a comet crashing into earth this is God meets Goddess,

on this,
earth,
we made love,
like some things still matter,

like,
something,
still,
mattered,

in this,
bed,
we made love,
like no things still matter,

like,
nothing,
still,
mattered,

as Baraka,
continued to play,
onto the tall white wall,
from the projector from which it projected,

and in that instant,
something mattered and nothing mattered,
everything mattered mad as a hatter,
free as a God in Greece in a moment perfectly captured,

as she lays here,
in this moment out of time,
an alchemist creating bliss from the pain,
painting the perfect picture,

this is more than a poem this is living scripture,

we are creating emotional paintings,
we are Gods and wherever we our is our Mt. Olympus,
as we travel on and write down our experiences,
so others can live through our words in a way that’s vicarious,

we carry this,
torch and stay on the course in the pursuit of happiness.

And everywhere we go,
there are too many pillows,
and I’m not complaining I’m just saying,
it’s like I’m living inside some sort of reality show,

so far gone out of our minds into these experiences we go,

in the pursuit of happiness,
we catch the wave go with the flow and away we go…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

09/09/16
That REEL Life
Aaron LaLux Oct 2016
Everywhere I go,
there are too many pillows,
like I’m living in,
some kind of reality show,

oh well here we go,
into the experiences of this show,

in The Pursuit of Happiness,
we catch a good wave and roll with the flow,

so,
certain of nothing,
so,
please no fronting,

making,
love on a bed,
projection screen,
projecting,

a film on the tall white wall,
she’s on top of me,
I think the film is Baraka,
upstairs in bed on an indoor balcony,

her friend’s downstairs,
I think she’s a lesbian,
we’re on a bed,
she’s on top of me,

I turn her over,
finding a tattoo on her neck,
I look closer,
between sunrise light and skin of sweat,

to a tattoo that read,

Pursuit of Happiness.

We made love,
like everything mattered,
like anything mattered,
please tell me something matters,

as Baraka continues to project on the projector,
we continue to make love like everything matters,
and in that instant instant,
everything did matter,
and nothing mattered,
and the constant contradiction,
made me mad as a hatter,

as our moment of freedom became perfectly captured,

as she lays here post passion in my arms,

in this moment of time,
as it’s perfectly captured with words,
to write the paint for this picture,
so that the emotions we feel can be heard,

in our Pursuit of Happiness,
I’m not certain of much but there’s on thing I can say for sure,

everywhere I go,
there are too many pillows,
like I’m living in,
some kind of reality show,

oh well here we go,
into the experiences of this show,

in The Pursuit of Happiness,
we catch a good wave and roll with the flow,

everyone comes,
and everyone goes,

so I wrote,
this letter to a girl that I’ve just met,
and to the tattoo that she has,
that reads Pursuit of Happiness on her neck…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
A letter to remember...
Aaron LaLux Sep 2016
See-Through Memories

Didn’t you notice?

I rented this apartment,
next to your favorite gelato spot,
Lavender Gelato or whatever it’s called…

Didn’t you notice?

I came back to Budapest,
just to see you,
and also to buy an apartment too…

Don’t you remember?

When I promised,
not to leave you and asked,
for the same promised and you promised too?

Don’t you remember?

When I offered,
you everything this world has to offer,
and all I asked for was a few moments?

I guess we all break our promises…

And now I’m left to watch the waves,
come and crach,
against the castle in the sands,
that we made with our grand plans,

you were going to draw the pictures,
and I was going to write the words,
we were going to create a book,
and share ourselves with the world,

you promised,
you promised you wouldn’t leave,
and that’s exactly what you did,
and love is blind and that’s why I didn’t see…

Can’t you see?

How alone I’ve become,
how all I really ask for,
is a friend to exist here when I feel all alone?

All alone.

A poet who’s words are his only home,
and I don’t know what to do to communicate with you,
so I left you alone retreated to my thoughts and wrote you this poem…

Dear Beloved,

I know there are no words,
that haven’t already been said,
and I know even if I write you everything,
there’s a good chance it won’t be read,

but I write to you anyways,
because that’s what loyalty will make one do,
even though we met spent some time and then you left,
quick and almost automatic like one two…

Where are you?

Where are you reading this from,
do you feel as outcasted as I do,
when you walk these streets in a run?

Hello,

I’m still here,
even though it feels like the world is ending,
and the future is completely unclear,

we’re on unstable ground,
and I’ve retreated to my addictions,
so I smoke a cigarette and think about you,
then I write it all down and call it fiction,

since when,
was it cool to lose all emotion,
I’d give anything just to see you feel,
something anything more than nothing,

no way,
anything I’m going to write or say,
will change your mind or make you feel differently,
hell I don’t even know if you’re going to read this,
but that’s okay because we all go away anyways eventually…

So I guess this is goodbye.

I guess this is some sort of farewell letter,
as I write from my apartment,
right next to that shop,
that one that sells gelato made of lavender…

Do you remember?

I rented this apartment,
next to your favorite gelato spot,
Lavender Gelato or whatever it’s called…

Didn’t you notice?

I came back to Budapest,
just to see you,
and also to buy an apartment too…

Don’t you remember?

When I promised,
not to leave you and asked,
for the same promised and you promised too?

Don’t you remember?

When I offered,
you everything this world has to offer,
and all I asked for was a few moments?

I guess we all break our promises…

And now we’re left just wasting time,
waiting for the rumored apocalypse,
doing whatever we think we’re supposed to do,
as existence existing in what we believe our existence is.

I’m sick of this.

Sick of this body and all it’s accompanying emotions,
I see why you feel better when you try and feel nothing,
because honestly constant musing can feel confusing,
so you’d rather just shut off completely from any feelings…

Hello,

I’m still here,
even though it feels like the world is ending,
and the future is completely unclear,

here,
I wrote you this love letter,
in a humble attempt to arise from within,
those feelings you hide that will help you feel better.

Please,

I’ve already accepted we will likely never see each other again,
all I’m asking is remember one thing,
true love is more rare that you think so no time for pretend,

I know,
believe me I’ve been through a lot,
I’ve hoped loved gained it all,
I’ve broke everything I’ve made and everything I’ve gained I’ve lost,

because you can’t take any of this with you,
the scales of time are not on our side,
nothing is balanced and no one is equal,
there’s no where to run there’s no where to hide,

remind,
me why I write,
these words to you you probably won’t even read them,
because you’d rather listen to their lies.

Why?

Why?

Why are you not here?

When a man asked me why I was in Budapest,
I said I came back for a girl,
and when he asked me,
“Well then where is she?”
I realized I’d been fooled,

by you.

I flew,
across the continent just to see you,
I rented a place next to your favorite gelato spot,
I offered myself without any walls in other words to be see-through.

See you,
have so much potential to achieve anything,
and you had a pretty good chance to have it all,
but now all you’ll have are the memories…

Don’t you remember?

When I promised,
not to leave you and asked,
for the same promised and you promised too?

Don’t you remember?

When I offered,
you everything this world has to offer,
and all I asked for was a few moments?

I guess we all break our promises…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆


03/09/16
Budapest
With Love, From Budapest, Yours Truly... ∆
Next page