Poems and stuff by Maté Jarai…
Poems and stuff by Maté Jarai…

…this is ‘magic’

1937 and
also now,
we don’t know
what the fuck
is going on
and it used
to be fine
when we
didn’t pretend,
only now
like kids in
a forest
we be knights
and ninjas
PTSD brained
soldiers and
the sinister
arm of the law
the only limb left,
the other seven
were shed
while we took snaps
at dusk
drank beers
and faked
not giving
a fuck
as all the real
people died
or left
or just straight up
vanished like
without the
rabbits, the fun,
and the fireworks.

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