poems by Peter Ungár

Daniel is having a threesome

 

After all, it’s also a novelty to ride a scooter-taxi

even if there is nothing novel about the boy,

maybe the esoterics are correct:

there are twelve kinds of people

from the Budapest to Sri Lanka,

borehole depth is required to

to be touched by one’s own emotions.

 

Because everyone is Princess Diana in their own tale,

the oppressed beautiful, tragic icon,

nobody longs for constructive activity,

instead of fluttering,

who wants to spend a lifetime in responsibility

and hats of many colours,

rather than with tragic suddenness

next to an Arab billionaire.

 

Black crows standing high on a mountain are calling,

that everything starts again all of a sudden,

things differ in their similarity,

old women are wise because of time,

train tracks rumble hopefully,

rising from a concrete sarcophagus

philistines are crying for the messiah,

self-deluding hags

eat earthworms for dinner,

centaurs who have lost their antlers

spawn sea ​​urchins,

they show that everything can exist,

but yet not everything does,

there are no zebras with laser guns in their heads,

yet Tamil boys write bad poems

yet what exists repeats itself,

with perforated barriers,

with dead bodies, stretchers,

desks with paint stains,

the same, but innumerable,

in a repeating pattern.

 

 

 

Deodorant

 

There is no inflection point,

no new material is formed,

the old remains, transforms

the engine of the Big Bang dies down,

a human is nothing but

the totality of his actions,

there is nothing unknowable by others,

everyone is the way they talk to the waiter,

self-made photos of young adults sticking deodorants up their anuses

for the purpose of seduction

sent in poor resolution images

to decorated cloud-spaces

where floating compound-eyed wasp-body

cherubs look on in anguish,

with the help of lost pilgrims,

old ladies retired to huts and

butcher’s assistants passing chicken liver between their fingers,

desire that at least

let them

access the secret documents,

where clerks with pens for fingers

scribbled over what anyone wants to know

of anything.

 

 

 

Wednesday

 

How do we show what we know of the world,

of boring house parties with stale chips

and boys who’s freshly cut hair showed

how ridiculous it is to try this hard,

of getting your thighs felt up during a lecture

by someone who was but fodder for your nostalgia,

a first love burning only in retrospect,

of meetings, of people who enjoyed the way their voice

washed away everything,

like a tsunami of regurgitated of soundbites,

of trying your best and failing your best,

of months on end spent clinging to the one day of the week

when you didn’t drink,

how to you make yourself worthy

of ushering a new life,

through sex-trafficking rings, and widows tending to empty

apartments,

of being a tour-guide where you also get lost,

but lost in familiarity,

this great testament,

a gift, but undeserved,

a new car before you got your licence,

life changes irrevocably,

when you arrive,

welcome, I am here,

on the bench alone eating a meat pie

post-anorexic, hung over and wise for

the youth that’s gone now,

I’ve been here

for years.

 

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Peter Ungar is a Member of the Hungarian Parliament for the Greens, has been publishing poetry in literary journals for the past years. He is 33 years old, studied in Edinburgh University.

poems by Peter Ungár

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