AFTER THE SHOT, Leila Samarrai “The Second Birth Of Tragedy”


cp-5

image found here

Without any discomfort (except nausea)
In a suitcase I packed the cut out mask.
Underneath it indulgences , with instructions to be read at daybreak:
„I do not fear death, until the mortician.
They scheme around
The coffin. Stopple the tragedy like a sea-shell.”
(Tragedy is overrated. All the replicas
were soaked by the morning with the eyes of Maldives
in the counterpoint the waves summon:
„Odysseus defeated on the road by a troop of Cyclops.”

Beside absurd begins the strategy.
The wheels of the little machine drill,
She! Grinds the finger rolled in gunpowder with the trigger
Like in the dough,
Illuminates the brain with destructive noise.
May they fire, the clerk murderer should fire and all those others
Who will after the shot carry me out in pieces.

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Author: Leila Samarrai

I am a person of Himalayan seclusion, I am Atalanta in vestments of Helen of Troy, for me there is no term (aphorism there is, maybe). Cosmopolitan is too modest word for one who wanders across epochs without the help of the time machine. Some people consider me weird, because usually this is so when they do not understand something or someone that do not represent their existence. I love cats, an animals in general, I like challenges, I am persistent, I am combative (sometimes I can exaggerate in that - in all) If I were stylistic figure my mortal name would be Hyperbole. Read me. Know me. Conquer me :)

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