The Irrationalist 

Free beat poetry

English translation: Bea Kőrös.

 

 

Epitaph of a meteorite named Earth

Wanderer, spread the word to the other planets! We did what a couple of crazies demanded.

 

Lover of Anat

 

 So she slept with me,

 The Night

 The Moon - lover

 Sun worshipper

 Slow - moving clock.

 

 A machine by God

 Swallowed some untrue substance

 It clicked

 Then paused for a lightyear.

 It threw out the ones

 who have never been here

 Not yet

 Not to this sacred place

 

 Because

 

 Is it true, that you trample the grass with your feet?

 You clean your body with water instead of fire?

 Is it true, there’s an evil chariot

 that drives itself through rubble

 And the nonsense, you call time, is

 the source of all the trouble?

 

 Stop now!

 Cause the world burns down.

 

 

Beyond the glen

Wild grape tendda twisting beyond
The glen
In vortex of trees by the Göcsej
Green Land

In the womb holes of ancient
Gnarl-faced pines
Unborn souls cry out in the
Cold Yule nights

Tangled by the twisted
Bindweed hard
I cry with them my God,

So wild

Grape tendda twisting beyond
The land
Pelting down in the concrete
Jungle without
An end.

I preach mutely
For my distorted shadow
As a loyal dog

My great sadness,
No one’s here to witness,
Only the rain cries,
What survives?
Just a pair of crooked lines.

 

 

Song of the moondog

 

The prophet stood up in the world-cinema, and thus he saith

The lightly tossed stone-Sun decays
The stars – just a handful of pebbles -just stare
The wire rainbow flogs
The rust-rain is about to fall from the wrecked skies

The Moon: a moulting mask
Meteor rains wash her dusty face
Blindly winding roads lead to nowhere
They web the stray world
Words and the gas vapor are choking

Moondog, why’re you howling?

Liquid glue tears stick the minutes to the clock
This is the place, where people said „that’s enough!
It was written down, and carved in stone
But is this one cry enough down here?

Of course not

Pharisees put a ton on the scale
While I have been living in the forest
The dreams, pupated under tree barks
were chewing through the holy cross
So he won’t be late, when the time comes
Not to make the poor Messiah wait.

Still, I’m gonna return the bottles
and buy a nice block of Trappist gheese
Gonna throw it to the moon dog
Gonna toss all the money that’s left from the 30 silver
Then I’ll throw myself, too
Take off my skin garment and watch it fall from this Tower of Babel.

Comb the feathers of my wings, darling

Time repeats itself without a clue
Slows down, stops and ponders
to pass or not to pass?

I keep the sacred pocket watch in my pocket
I am the long-lived Time
Lord of Nothing
Prisoner of nix and no-one.

Come, Moondog, lie down beside me on the grass
On this gleaming carpet of the dawn
Let’s bark at the godlike Sun
That will never be devoured by mankind’s jailnight.

 

Prediction

The Holy Bird no longer calls
It just flies
Silently
He is speechless
It flies far
Towards the Sun
It flies

The Ashes
The Sin
It just flies
On his country
He lands
Where is winter
Deep silence
Gloom
Here
They are murderers
They dominate
Unperturbed
Death
Sun above East

World Fate Ruining

Recipe created by man

A nuclear attack and the sky will turn turquoise
Burn

God Bird
Towards the Sea
It flies towards the Sun
It flies far
And it just flies
Leave this ugly cursed land here
Leaving the crippled blind pribs here
The human

 

 

Sinking

 Lifeless days, gray fat

Quarries, bazaar rows of my life

Memories, scraps of my coat.

 

If only the wind would calm down!

I will greet clear skies tomorrow.

 

Monday Dawn

Bright light-haired dawn
He wanders in my kitchen
Sunday with a deep sigh
On the threshold saying goodbye

Smoky languid Monday
Water-colored or colorless
Or just a shy gem
Light in a mirror naked

August 29, 2023

 

 

 

 

Oldal: The irrationalist
Balaton János Poey oldala - © 2008 - 2024 - balatonjanospoey.hupont.hu

A HuPont.hu honlap ingyen regisztrálható, és sosem kell érte fizetni: Honlap Ingyen.

ÁSZF | Adatvédelmi Nyilatkozat