About Me


I  love writing that combines mixed genres,such as satire and science fiction, where the impossible is possible and laughter follows tears.

I’m a writer of colorful genres. Oftentimes, I transcend the genre itself by toying with many references from mythology and alternate history.
I write poetry, mostly reflective and epic; a blend of antique-Shakespeare’s understanding of poetry.

I also write surreal short stories, aphorisms, maxims, short stories, novels, theatre plays…

I favour science fiction, satire and humoresques, and enjoy using the vaudeville style of structure too … Many people say that my humor, which is an important determinant of my writing style, and common element in my science fiction and horror stories, is interwoven with the style of so-called “Pythonesque stories”.

My direction in literature is to weave fantastic realism into horror stories, and the use of magic realism and the surreal.
I write in Serbian, but I’m trying to write directly into English, and, many of my poems and stories have been translated into Spanish. So, non-Serbian speakers are sure to find something of interest.

The rest is explained here 

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The Love That Never Dies, Leila Samarrai


Breath in
Breath out
Breath in
A corpse never dies

A wassail around the grave
Of the Russian mystic
Lunacy crucified in his eye

He walks around in a black robe
On a graveyard
That did not cry
On which I listened to yelling and screamed
Sensitively gentle and superior

My blindness,
Merciful death
Put me away into wilted flowers
So I repose there
Already my corpse reeks strongly
The one that never dies
Whose wounds were played in the darkness

Sensual death,
The downfall which with a watchful eye
I saw never again
I am repulsed by the rot that sleazes through my senses
Amid the room given to me like a grave, and the glass
To watch my reflection in it
Or end my life with the smithereens!

I knit a wreath for the vixen
Who was suffocating next to the shaft,
Tearing the grid with her teeth,
Who was breaking the joists,
Eating sonnets,
She rode the Lions gate
In a dress with a décolletage
Cut with her sword and enflamed with her pyre
The heads of the five Mycenaean bulls
Drank the blood of the horse from the silver chalice,
Tasseled in rosettes, with a light sword
I dug two pits
For two rings, of gold and of bronze.

For the beast that leaves the cup of wormwood
At the tip of the hands
For the beast
With a merciful heart of the venomous fungus

Like you (who are a) corpse
Like you, scorpion, who are
While unease ripens in the fog
Lulled inside the years
A bloodied sun comes out in the west

Throw me to the pigs!

Verily
In the circle of graves?
Verily
In the tomb of Atreus?
Verily
In the sea bed of Aegean full of blood.

“Cats”/”Mačke”


This is one of the many versions (The Introduction) of my drama play “Cats”. There is a final version, of course, it is printed, but due to some kind of miracle, it is not in the computer, so I should type it again. Drama is intended for reading, and this version is slightly longer, so this task is constantly postponed. Anyway, I was looking for something in mails, then I came across this version which is not as good as the one after.. but still made me laugh.
I’m sorry I can not give you present texts in English (for now), my translators (Scylla and Charybdis have some unfinished business with satan in Styx at noon (reviving the dead and translating them something like… corpse never dies and other Meow – Poetry Of Hell in Hebrew and Hungarian – Finnish) They shall be back in couple of centuries, till then, wait and see – I’ll manage somehow. Try to use google translate!

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image found here

MAČKE

Leila Samarrai

Scena 1

NEBESA

(Sv Petar prekrštenih nogu sedi u Edenu, ispred Rajskih vrata na stolici od hrastovog drveta sa gusto isprepletanim gravurama krstova. Revlon remom lašti go go čizme. Našminkan je kao Azijatkinja, dok u haljini Đovani sluša poznatu ariju opera Madam Baterflaj. (na video bimu prikazana scena iz opera Madam Baterflaj) Nosi rej ban naočare I pije kafu iz kutije na kojoj piše Energetska Kafa dok prelistava katalog ženskih perika iz Hongkonga. ..) Na okruglu stolicu na kojoj sve Petar najčešće sedi dok se ogleda u stilizovanom ogledalu od višnjinog drveta rajske modne kuće “Taština” sleće Emanuilo, pakleni lađar, koji izgledom podseća na Grejs Džons.)

EMANUIL:

O, Petre sveti, slomilo mi se veslo dok plovih Stiksom vrelim. Ukoliko mi ne pomogneš, Raj mi ne gine!

SV PETAR:
Rekao sam ti da za paklene vožnje koristiš rajska. Ona su čvršća. Sačinjena od čistog vatikanskog zlata.

(kuca na računaru)

Jedno rajsko veslo za lađara pakla.

EMANUIL:
Petre, do sad sam sumnjao, ali sad znam da si mi pravi prijatelj. Izvukoh se. Za dlaku!

(SV PETAR I EMANUIL se zagrliše)

SV PETAR: (dok ga grli)
Biće mi potrebna protivusluga.

EMANUIL:
Uvek…  i.. skloni ruke sa moje zadnjice.

SV PETAR:
Ovo ti je treće u nedelju dana? Problemi u paklu? Podsvesna želja da postaneš rajska pastirica?

EMANUIL:
Tako mi I treba kad prevozim Ruse. (sa divljenjem zagleda u novo, zlatno veslo koje mu je doneo heruvim) I to nikog drugog do Ivana Prvog Kalitu, autokratu ciciju u istom čamcu sa Judom.

(SV PETAR se prekrsti)

EMANUIL:

Želi da se vrati na Zemlju kako bi dao trideset srebrnjaka u dobrotvorne svrhe.

SV PETAR:
Zadivljujuće.

EMANUIL:
Tek što dođosmo do sredine mračne vode, zatražih obojici kaparu, ali Rus nije hteo da mi plati, već mi ot’e veslo iz ruke, slomi ga I gurnu me u Stiks. Tada začuh potmulo režanje praćeno žuborom vode, žuboritije od kipećeg Stiksa..

SV PETAR:
Iju! Pa šta se to ču?

EMANUIL:
To je Sotona pevao pod tušem. Pomislih šta bi se desilo da sazna, uplaših se I vratih Judi srebrnjake.

PETAR: (uzdiše)O, Emanuilo, pa zar svih trideset?

EMANUIL: (izdiše)
Svakodnevno sam na iskušenju da pokojnicima koje prevozim otimam novac, ali bojim se da me Ničnižnji ne vrati među žive, ako sazna da mu diram u kasicu prasicu.

SV PETAR:
Emanuilo, to I nije tako loše! Kad si živ, onda možeš da podigneš keš kredit u Poštanskoj štedionici Srbije!

EMANUIL:

Kažu da tamo prednost imaju preminuli.. Uostalom, miliji su mi večni krediti na odloženo plaćanje.

.

“I was told to drop dead”, Leila Samarrai


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image found here

I was told to drop dead
Drop dead!?

I – who shatters you upon a lupine rock
I – who kills you with the breath of breeze
I – who holds your hair inside my palms
I – who do not hear your supplications and don’t know them
I – who carry the roar of waves within my furious brain
I – who crush you with cheekbones of oak
I – in front of who you hop like maddened dervishes
I – before who Samara resurrects from the dead
I – for whom the rocks groan from pain
I – before who Caesar scrapes his white knees
I – who carry in my chest a heart with twelve ventricles
I – who breastfed Romulus and Remus
I – who murdered Caligula during Palatean games
I – who break flesh and eat your bones
I– who turn honey into a new pillar of salt
I – who extract the uterus from the moon
I – who poison your bodies with breast milk
I – who tear tendons with ruby lips
I – who knock you down with words of great-genesis
I – who am a wind which topples giants with my treading
To me you tell to drop dead!?