#budapest
he touched my arm
as he paid for his latte —
i smiled as he talked.
he’s going to budapest.
same time as me.
he asked if i could
recommend things to see.
easy.
the ruin bars,
the chain bridge.
the gellért baths,
if you like steam.
i could be your guide —
i didn’t say —
i know a great place
i could take you.
it doesn’t need a ticket.
conveniently,
it’s located
in my bedroom.
Jul 28, 2025
Jul 28, 2025 at 6:04 PM UTC
Some sort of checklist people have,
That may be found in a photograph.
It could be a one way ticket to Budapest,
Or scaling the top of Mount Everest.
Seeing the Eiffel Tower and Mona Lisa,
Or a picture with the leaning tower of Pisa.
Swimming with turtles in the Bahamas,
Or exploring Peru in search of llamas.
Lying on white sandy beaches in Sicily,
There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 4:22 PM UTC
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
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 1:09 PM UTC
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.
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 6:47 AM UTC
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
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
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
Jan 21, 2020
Jan 21, 2020 at 9:13 AM UTC
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.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
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
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
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
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
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 ∆
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
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
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
Fisherman’s Bastion
Hey,
how have you been?
I know,
some time times can be tough,
but remember,
nothing’s permanent this too shall pass,
we are only an idea of our own imagination,
and I don’t know if that makes things better or worse,
but then again maybe there is no such thing as better or worse,
and maybe that’s the truth,
and maybe the truth is that sometimes the truth hurts…
Hey,
how have you been?
Tell me,
are you enjoying this miracle called life,
in this body,
that you’re currently in?
I’m not sure you fully heard the question because I don’t know if you were listening,
so at the risk of being repetitive I’m going to ask it again,
“Hey how have you been,
are you enjoying this miracle called life in this body that you’re currently in?”
And yeah I know you’re confused and think you might be a lesbian,
or maybe an asexual extra-terrestrial multi-dimensional alien,
but hey that’s okay all the world’s a stage and we are all thespians,
oddity prodigies isn’t it ironic how sometimes the poison is the medicine,
I’m not sure you heard the reference because I don’t know if you were listening,
so at the risk of being repetitive I’m going to say it again,
“All the world’s a stage and we are all thespians,
oddity prodigies isn’t it ironic how sometimes the poison is the medicine.”
Hey,
how have you been?
I thought about you today,
all day actually,
all the way from Budapest Castle,
through the Labyrinth to Matthias Church,
where I drank water from the fountain,
to quench my reoccurring thirst,
I thought about you today,
from the thermal baths at Lukacs,
to right here where I’m writing this,
back to the Basilica on the Turrets of the Fisherman’s Bastion,
actually I have a question if you don’t mind me asking,
hey,
how have you been?
It seems what I’ve received from atop the turrets contemplating,
is that my attraction towards you is both affection and indifference,
affliction and obsession and independence and addiction,
and possession and freedom and acceptance and rejection,
wait a second it’s actually also the most beautiful creation in all of creation
it is we are the self manifestation of perfection from chaos and misdirection,
oh my look now to the sky is where we are headin’,
and things are going so fast now I think it’s about time I check in,
hey,
how have you been?
You still give me the chills like the hottest Sun mixed with the coldest Wind,
which also describes the highest highs both literally and figuratively that I find myself in,
because what I write is the result of insight from the Most High inside that I then let out with my pen,
and also it seems where I write these lines it’s usually from places high in the sky it can’t all be a coincidence,
this feels all too real to try and even begin to attempt to pretend,
confident and confused at the same time like wanting to make love with your best friend,
When,
will we be able to make love unconditionally without any preconditions,
when can we just be without wanting to do,
like being at a Basilica in the petition position but not needing to be on a mission,
can we please just land on foreign land for the sake of seeking refuge from stormy seas or simply to stop from drifting?
When will we be able to just be without all the questioning and invasive investigations,
I mean seriously these people these days ask so many questions it’s beginning to feel like an inquisition,
made a few more references there could you please write back and let me know when you get them?
Let me know when,
you stop fishing,
because I already know who I want,
and of course I’ve only got one question,
hey,
how have you been?
Listen,
I’m tired you’re hired please love my rebellious heart into submission,
and I guess that’s what I’ve been trying to say the whole time but I got lost in all the added adjective descriptions,
caught up in the moment as the sun set’s over the Danube river,
casting this beautiful city of Budapest in a golden glow that ripples and glistens,
and I realize just how unbelievably beautiful this whole globe is,
but honestly the whole world is only half as beautiful when i find you missin’,
see you seem so far away when you’re anywhere but here…
Here,
where I watch tourist take selfies as lovers give kisses,
from atop the turrets of Fisherman’s Bastion,
staring over the edge fighting back the undeniable urge to plummet into the abyss,
and I’m wondering if you feel the same undeniable way and that is why one last time I’m asking,
hey,
how have you been?
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Fisherman’s Bastion
Hey,
how have you been?
I know,
some time times can be tough,
but remember,
nothing’s permanent this too shall pass,
we are only an idea of our own imagination,
and I don’t know if that makes things better or worse,
but then again maybe there is no such thing as better or worse,
and maybe that’s the truth,
and maybe the truth is that sometimes the truth hurts…
Hey,
how have you been?
Tell me,
are you enjoying this miracle called life,
in this body,
that you’re currently in?
I’m not sure you fully heard the question because I don’t know if you were listening,
so at the risk of being repetitive I’m going to ask it again,
“Hey how have you been,
are you enjoying this miracle called life in this body that you’re currently in?”
And yeah I know you’re confused and think you might be a lesbian,
or maybe an asexual extra-terrestrial multi-dimensional alien,
but hey that’s okay all the world’s a stage and we are all thespians,
oddity prodigies isn’t it ironic how sometimes the poison is the medicine,
I’m not sure you heard the reference because I don’t know if you were listening,
so at the risk of being repetitive I’m going to say it again,
“All the world’s a stage and we are all thespians,
oddity prodigies isn’t it ironic how sometimes the poison is the medicine.”
Hey,
how have you been?
I thought about you today,
all day actually,
all the way from Budapest Castle,
through the Labyrinth to Matthias Church,
where I drank water from the fountain,
to quench my reoccurring thirst,
I thought about you today,
from the thermal baths at Lukacs,
to right here where I’m writing this,
back to the Basilica on the Turrets of the Fisherman’s Bastion,
actually I have a question if you don’t mind me asking,
hey,
how have you been?
It seems what I’ve received from atop the turrets contemplating,
is that my attraction towards you is both affection and indifference,
affliction and obsession and independence and addiction,
and possession and freedom and acceptance and rejection,
wait a second it’s actually also the most beautiful creation in all of creation
it is we are the self manifestation of perfection from chaos and misdirection,
oh my look now to the sky is where we are headin’,
and things are going so fast now I think it’s about time I check in,
hey,
how have you been?
You still give me the chills like the hottest Sun mixed with the coldest Wind,
which also describes the highest highs both literally and figuratively that I find myself in,
because what I write is the result of insight from the Most High inside that I then let out with my pen,
and also it seems where I write these lines it’s usually from places high in the sky it can’t all be a coincidence,
this feels all too real to try and even begin to attempt to pretend,
confident and confused at the same time like wanting to make love with your best friend,
When,
will we be able to make love unconditionally without any preconditions,
when can we just be without wanting to do,
like being at a Basilica in the petition position but not needing to be on a mission,
can we please just land on foreign land for the sake of seeking refuge from stormy seas or simply to stop from drifting?
When will we be able to just be without all the questioning and invasive investigations,
I mean seriously these people these days ask so many questions it’s beginning to feel like an inquisition,
made a few more references there could you please write back and let me know when you get them?
Let me know when,
you stop fishing,
because I already know who I want,
and of course I’ve only got one question,
hey,
how have you been?
Listen,
I’m tired you’re hired please love my rebellious heart into submission,
and I guess that’s what I’ve been trying to say the whole time but I got lost in all the added adjective descriptions,
caught up in the moment as the sun set’s over the Danube river,
casting this beautiful city of Budapest in a golden glow that ripples and glistens,
and I realize just how unbelievably beautiful this whole globe is,
but honestly the whole world is only half as beautiful when i find you missin’,
see you seem so far away when you’re anywhere but here…
Here,
where I watch tourist take selfies as lovers give kisses,
from atop the turrets of Fisherman’s Bastion,
staring over the edge fighting back the undeniable urge to plummet into the abyss,
and I’m wondering if you feel the same undeniable way and that is why one last time I’m asking,
hey,
how have you been?
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
Everybody’s staring again,
wherever I go whether they know or not,
I see the stares and it doesn’t matter,
if you’re taking my time you’re taking my pain,
what’s to gain,
from all this trouble,
I put my headphones on and try to focus,
but their staring again and it’s distracting,
fck this,
I want to explode like a supernova,
you don’t know me you want to know me,
I’d show you the truth but you’d be scared,
they always want to love you from a safe distance,
well with love there is no always and no distance is safe,
facts folks facts,
I’m off my axis writing in undefined prose,
what’s the pattern here,
there is no pattern here,
I’m getting bored I’m done here,
“Hey do you want to get out of here?”
Let’s go,
find a place,
where we can be,
period.
Want to take all this pain,
and push it into the world,
turn it into beauty,
change it into medicine,
oh man,
he’s on one again,
on that “Saving the world” spiel,
what’d they slip in his coffee today,
he’s acting strange,
and everybody’s staring,
like they know something great when they see it,
even if they don’t know exactly what that thing is,
what am I,
I don’t know and don’t have time to care,
got words to think and books to write,
got history to make before I get out of here,
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Everybody’s staring again,
and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.”
The king of awkward feeling strange on his throne,
I guess the best thing about being a runaway is you’re always home.
Or you’re never home,
and everywhere you roam everybody stares,
wherever I go whether they know or not,
I see the stares and it doesn’t matter,
if you’re taking my time you’re taking my pain,
“What are you staring at?!?!”
Really I want to know,
because I’ve been trying to figure it out for years,
been to every continent,
and still I have no idea,
you are forcing me to not care,
taking hope and making my favorite word “whatever”,
whatever I feel exceptionally dizzy and want to throw up,
everybody’s staring the world is spinning I’m at a cafe in Budapest,
a table full of girls asked,
“What did you eat?”
I answer truthfully,
“Nothing, I just woke up.”
I was just stood up,
or maybe I missed my date because I just slept in,
I don’t know anymore because I feel disconnected from everyone,
and the further away I feel the more I see them stare…
Everybody’s staring again,
wherever I go whether they know or not,
I see the stares and it doesn’t matter,
if you’re taking my time you’re taking my pain…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
author of The H Trilogy
author of The Poetry Trilogy
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
When muskets shattered bones within the chest,
an era slipped from time; new shadows born
where history cast its cape on Budapest.
Their fate entombed in honour; doom the guest.
No haven in their valour, loudly worn,
when muskets shattered bones within the chest.
The sabre steel lies dormant in its quest,
its master slain in scarlet fields of corn,
where history cast its cape on Budapest.
One leader freed; damnation for the rest.
Thirteen there stood; thirteen then shot at dawn,
when muskets shattered bones within the chest.
These Arad martyrs, ever standing lest
long centuries erode the passion borne
where history cast its cape on Budapest.
Glasses do not kiss, by grief’s request.
Laid quietly the ghosts that gently mourn
where muskets shattered bones within the chest
when history cast its cape on Budapest.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:59 AM UTC
I did not hesitate when I boarded the train,
caught between the salt and German time;
with fingernails yellowed with cigarette grime,
to come to Paris for it's tepid, sweet rain.
Nor I did tremble with with fear and strain,
flexing my pride in Prague with the prime
that only is granted to the young, at nighttime.
I left nothing back by or in home, but I feign--
for crookedly placed by the cold Danube,
I felt a finger of hurt despite my endeavors;
for as water pooled in those iron shoes,
I felt everything that I didn't wish to remember.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC