My imagist poems

Sorrowful eyes
Sunk in the deep
Ocean of melancholy
Heart slightly opened
Wanting to absorb
The warmth of your being

I'm afraid
I'm afraid to open up
I'm afraid to love
I'm afraid to fall
into the unknown

I want to fall
I want to fall for you
Will you catch me?
Or let me down?
Will you care?
Or let me die?
I'm afraid to fall
I'm afraid
to let you touch me.

Don't - please -
Don't feel pity
Don't feel sorry for me
Don't talk to me
out of pity.
Don't!!!

Thanks. I'm fine
I'm perfectly fine.
I hate to love.
But you must love me.
Just love me.
Love me.

Paniti  Judit

I had a strange dream tonight.
That I went to London
and you met me at the station...
And in my dream I thought
you will take me to dance,
but you wanted to see your friends
and forgot about me.

I felt so alone, when you were
talikng to everyone else,
Then I went out of the pub,
and when you came after me
and wrapped your arms around me,
I was so surprised by this spontaneity,
that suddenly it felt like home.

Then the next day,
you forgot about your friends
and you took me everywhere,
and I never been happier in my life,
when you held me in your arms
It felt like home again.

Reality tale
The big metal container, where hundreds of workers are pounding within, banging the walls, at half past two in the night, is my heart. They don’t let me sleep. My thoughts don’t let me sleep.
There is a big, empty iron box inside my chest. Insanity cannot be too far.
I got up, and started to walk, like a lunatic sleepwalker, to find a resting place, but the rattling came with me. I stopped. I will not go further. I have need of a rest. If I only could stop the hammering, for at least five minutes, and relax. Only five minutes.
Aah! My heart! My ears! Aah! My thoughts are so loud, so noisy.
At the frontier of Insanityland I run into God. He was waiting for me, though I did not tell Him that I will go that way. You told him? Did you tell him to care for me?
I think it was my mother. Mothers are always worrying.
So God was waiting for me. He had some fragrant oil on his index finger. It was kind of a remedy, because he touched my heart, somehow from the inside, and the rattling ceased. It was like when somebody presses an adhesive tape with one finger on a torn piece of paper. On a torn piece of heart. He didn’t let me cross the frontier. He sent me home. I mean, he took me home. He is a real genlteman... hmmm... genlteGod??? He said that I needed sleep. There were also two giant bodyguards with us. They were real hunks, and they had huge white wings on their backs. God said that they were my protectors from the day I was born.
If you happen to wander near Insanityland’s border, please do not cross until you meet God. If he is not there, call him, and he will guide you home.
He is still my best friend.

Falling nowhere

I would be falling
if gravity existed
but I’m weightless.
I would be swept away
if air existed
but vakuum is everywhere.
There’s no resistance in me,
though I don’t want to be swept away.
I’m floating in the weightless space,
that is larger inside me than the universe.
I am helpless.
Incapable to stand up and go...
neither forward, nor back...
Struggling, for some years by now.
The struggle – maybe – gets me started.
But there’s no gravity, no air...
I cannot move.

There is need for one goal.
One hope.
One way. And strength to go.
Do you know what is the most annoying?
A feeling.
The feeling, that you are helpless.
Paralysis.
There are paralysing events.
Things happen.
Regardless of what you expect.
Where will I manage to arrive?
Will I stay floating for ever?
This condition is an endless nosedive
into the weightless universe.
Lameness.

Paniti Judit

Train of thought

Today I got lost again.
There are countless paths inside my brain.
Some are overgrown by weeds,
I rarely visit these.
Some are beaten tracks,
well trodden, excavated, deep traces,
that could easily be artificial riverbeds...
in the squashy mush of my inner head.

So I got lost inside
my brilliant cerebral convolutions...
although, I deliberately avoid
wandering on certain roads,
that the ditch should not deepen.
Memories be forgotten.
Let them be covered by weeds,
thousand of weeds, I don’t mind.

Doors should be mounted
before every junction
Notes should be written
on every door... to warn
what is behind the entrance,
what the memory will bring forth,
what will I see, if I venture
to walk on certain roads...

On certain trails... cerebrum mazes,
ditches, trenches, lanes, convolutions...
I got lost. It’s a distressing vision.
Aching... I remember...
Sign-posts should be mounted
- and never disregarded-
before every intersection,
where thought ever strays direction.

Today I got lost.

Paniti Judit