Introduce yourself – who you are, what you do, and where you are.
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- I don’t want to write much here …
(ceramicist and poet)
His full name is Peremartoni Zsuzsanna Nagy.
I graduated in Miskolc and Budapest, Hungary. I wrote my first poems at the age of 16. From the age of 23 I lived in Darmstad, Germany, as a ceramic assistant. I had smaller exhibitions in Helsinki and Vienna.I published my first volume in 2016 with the help of the Black Eagle Publisher. (Hungary, Budapest). So far I have published it in the New Source Literary Magazine.In 2018 I was the producer of a Hungarian and English recording of a jazz poetry CD at Origó Studio. Then I became a manager.The CD includes poetry, translator poems by Gábor Gyukics, featuring famous Hungarian jazz musicians (Béla Ágoston saxophone, Viktor Bori piano, Csaba Pengő bass, Tibor Eichinger guitar, Attila Dóra saxophone). The Hungarian CD is available at the Rózsavölgyi Music Store, the Wave Record Store. (Budapest/Hungary)
The English version of the CD is sold in two locations in Vancouver, Canada (Beatstreets Records, Neptoon Records), and it can also be found in Reykjavik, Iceland. (Lucky Records)
A 6 minute demo of an animated video I made can also be found on YouTube.
Since September 2020, I have been a member of a new generation of beat poets at the National Beat Poetry Foundation, Inc.
- Dear Christmas(In memory of Jack Kerouac) The wallet is flat now, how many things to spend on how many gifts! For me, every day is Christmas and all food is a pleasure. 10 grams of happiness, 20 grams of smile, 30 grams of love, always my festive meal. The system of trembling meat spins in the night, chasing the man. Fish, turkey, pork, somewhere a […]
- In safe arbourIn memory of my father In the feathery blue of a fluffy could that somebody painted in the sky today, I smelled the fume of your tobacco pipe while veiled in lost sentiments. I sneaked out, away fromthe blue mirrorsof your eyes, just like an uninvited guest.But I kept a cloud for myself, a reflection […]
- They are MarchingCold, in a fog getting thicker, in a timelessness gnawed by hunger, they rest their muddy shoes, loaded with the cry of children. Their feet bask on the asphalt of a world thought to be a dream, waiting for awakening, among the naked walls of tribulations. They murmur prayers silently on a garland of drops of their sweat. Nothing else but […]
- A FeelingYour stare at poppy seed sized people saying farewell while you rule your seatin the power of the fifth gear sinking deep in your senses.There are red clouds on the horizon, reflections in the setting sun. Your trip, your sped up present escape to a certain future followed by white lines road signs, that are […]
- The Return of the HermetistThe scent of citrus trees immerses the rainy night.The summer breeze gets lostamong the dark streets, in the clamour of the pubs,and gets to meet the old stranger.The times of pleasure will be in vain,Chinese men will sell their pizza then.You are waiting to recall the beginningor the end.Try to forget your fearof whereyour path […]