In the mirror


 

In the mirror

 I see Suns long passed
the breath which wipes away the glass contours
is frightened and uneasy
The Moon – what a sensitive parasite that is
If I lunge at the mirror
I will crack my tooth structure
I’ll consume the Suns, devour the Moon
Rend asunder hesitant bodies
I hate you, you, you, and you,
though I love all of you
you and you and you.

The Merciless Atheistic Love – Recital, Leila Samarrai, edited version


RECITAL: Are you not too slow and pious to
persecute me, and nail me to the cross
in the eyes of theThief
two canine teeth are ruptured by nails and his funereal tell
(for I and the Almighty bovine get along like Jesus and his cross)
caught a sense of all the Gospels

GOD: Not again! I already did it 2000 years ago!

RECITAL CONTINUES:
God abandoned Jesus on the cross.
their sadomasochistic relationship is predicted.

(Footnote “Silence, habits of killer..”, half of 777 verses… from the book “Romans kill the killers, right?” by Atheistus Crucifixianus Genius )

God is silent without a pause, she – God – is black and she listens without a pause, with virtuoso aversion

God is obsessed with Silence.

(Goddess, do you copy these barmy blasphemers?)
(Hysterical screaming in the background)

Pathological silence disorder, morbid,
pathological,
medical
Blessed Sacrament of anguish

God is a godless cuckoo!
I am screaming calm, no flesh ..
no … no … my voice can never be heard.
Voice? Nothing but a tuned idiotic grin, it is said that this is just one mental woman, skinned leather… and she does not know …

GOD: Who the hell is she? I don’t know her!

WHISPERING:
A merciful angel.

SAINT PETER’S REPORT:
Her name is Georgina.
She hates YOU because of what your horrid self had taken from her:

Her childhood
Her youth
Her Reviews, her publishers
Her editors and editing skills
The social life in Serbia
the right to vote (her ID card has been expired for a decade or two, and by no means is she going to renew it or take out a new one)
vaginal orgasm (If it’s any consolation, you had not taken the clitoral O. from her)
her lover
her mistress
Fear
Pain.
Church marriage, though she is baptized
(one of the follies which she sought from you, after the first onset of her holy madness)
You even killed her poor little cat!

Poor Job – (l)ess…

GOD: And how did she end her life?

2
THE CHOIR OF ANGELS:

She didn’t .
She wrote the following before she injected insulin into herself previously admitting her death was not God’s fault nor the State’s but her own; Her hereditary psychophysical deformity
denying this claim five minutes later, blaming unreasonably expensive market prices for her demise
– now it’s just powders down there .. and a few pieces of bones, no sign of the human form inside.
She is not prevented from having some kind of consciousness, a thin pale skin, or a sharp, mathematical and metaphysical mind
She claims that there is no paradise but that we are already deployed in fixed groups in the afterlife.
in the coffin tarnished and polished
planning for the rerun of suicide,
She still recites.

RECITAL:

My Sugar Coffin, Immortal Tootsie Roll, with all due respect to the good deceased tulips
One madminge less, but the new survives, more complex, prone to scrutiny and truths. The seeker.

GOD: Dear God!

RECITAL CONTINUES:

I was putting powder on my cheeks for three nights
on a liar or
the deceived dead
subsided temperamental Countess
of rosy cheeks without a dental crown

GOD: (strikes his fist on the cloud)
Is there any verse where she doesn’t act! Nothing I do for her is good enough. I know that..sometimes.. yes, I am too silent, but I think she exaggerates! Not all are as outspoken as she is.
Hasten to the tomb, Peter!
explain to the aforementioned nutjob that someone has to do God’s work.

Saint Peter
can go down
out of the clouds
when he wants to
thus spoke the lady rocker
aye, gaga, young, wild rocker

RECITAL CONTINUES:

My Tootsie Roll, we’ll intertwine our fingers again someday
one fateful night in passion and destruction
the night flashes, and the sky is close
They have forgotten to lock up my eyes
my name is Georgina
raving, rabid Georgina

PETER:
Then she told: give me Peter’s body
I want his body
I want to notch his body and my soul like a fire
Fire! for
a shimmering night
a night of flames
She rose from the grave
She walked toward me
With a knockdown gaze:
“I baptize you with water to this grave”
She sits on a mahogany bench then,
which is intended for the visitors of the dead
the music is rocking inluxurious splendor
Just tragicomic love noise in the background
played by the orchestra in lacy nightgowns
one sad melody
She licks the remnants of her coquetting life
and her beak is facing the sky
the smell of the sound incites my imagination

GOD: Even Peter has become dirty.
PETER: The cemetery has mud, sir.

RECITAL:

Yes..
overshadowing men are pillocks
They’ve been with plains of wisdom
They’ve been the height of sentimentality
smitten poets
Some of the defeated wove beauty
Or they, too, were simply – poets
Yes..time does not exist
She was fooled by swift motion a long time ago

“Art is a mistake and I must take my leave.” – Goddess, God or Lord puts on a pair of black gloves, although she – the black spaz is not the son of a glove maker.

Over there
where the Goddess went they do not know her
she is currently waiting in line at the employment office
for her social security card
cursing the existence of free will and verse

Now He’s unclean like me
He may become a better god
And maybe shall decide to die
It comes down to the same thing.

But, my recital goes on.

RECITAL CONTINUES….

Slavery in Serbia, from the perspective of a Serbian’ resident alien, Leila Trajkovic Samarrai


A kindness died away between the pillars of
a strange home, a distant domicile in someone else’s garden
there is plenty of foul language and malice here and there, and I’m tired
I am so… rectum-rapingly worn out under
the sky
the bird
the overshadowed fowl
this ruinous world, mine as of late
Shepherds!
you expatriated me into the living pasture
you expatriated me out the gates of Hell
to serve as a maidservant faithful to the earth laden with the mites of May

To those who expelled me to my pasturage
to those within cruelty’s sphinctery grip
in waterfalls that grow in the morning sunlight
in yesterday’s paradise
in the freshness of Day

 

Leila Samarrai, A poem about a crocodile


In the dreadful crocodile land
Something odd is always at hand
Quickly, swift, a non-stop jerk
Is this bold dragons’ constant smirk

They’re strongest with bellies filled
Drunk on blood of men they’ve killed
Out of Nile’s vast delta here
Three dreaded crocs did appear

Through an Adriatic slit
Two more whales came, via Split.
Two Siberian beasts more
Reared out of Mulyanka’s shore

From Mulyanka of Perm Krai
Russian, then Italian sky
Crocs their freedom do not lack
Down the Sava-Danube track

Gathered ‘low a bridge’s bend
Suicidals near their end
These beasts roam about the town
One fierce bite has me pinned down

As they swim and float around
Pin-like their eyes I have found
Meaty prey sniffed by their noses
Sharp-toothed jaw said prey encloses

I’ve a deal with them worthwhile
Cro co do co lo do rile
May their trio boldly hop
And on horny scuta drop

May blood-showers flow like ale
Lubricating our scales
One life but one Euro’s worth
Our words but empty pits

Hollow caves our stomachs sit
More cash for twos we commit
I’ve a deal with them worthwhile

Cro co do co lo do rile

Down their shoulders I descend
Embracing them with my arms
My tummy is going nuts
Hunger dancing in my guts

Already they’re set to drop
Already by waves they’re called
Why waste thought? Use this dilemma
To toss this human Kinema

To the current evergoing
Hell-way they gave, full well knowing,
Dreams that they had all perceived
It’s quite gruesome, this whole plot

Now life has it, then has not
What does my arm small and lean
Embracing their waistlines mean
Even killers feel depressed

Post doing what they do best
I meandered into titles
Which I find to be mere trifle
But who’s bloody all the while

Moreso than a crocodile
Who will pay the deal enisled
Other than the crocodile
Watch thyself oh murderer

Suitable and pick-of-litter
Are cutwaters none the fitter,
Windshields and the lightning rods
Are but desperate roughneck sods

And their circle-natured days
As they float livid and dreamy
One drunk sailor, brave and scheme-y,
Swims across the river’s dirt

Two oars tied around his skirt
Sings away the filthy Beast
Bathed in the light of East
With a fiery yelling slope

Right then he sang: “I give hope.”
Golden wings upon his back.
My deal is rendered futile
From my present crocodile.

Come another chilling morrow
I will seek a new tomorrow
Past the bridge and midst of branches
Where tangles a wrinkly road

Rage about my gold grows hot
Which I withdrew from the slots
This strange body, livid, frail
Chisels open this whole pail

Living dead man lets out shrieks
Mercy is what this one seeks
We vomited from the bridges
Till at twilight what we knew

Was a perfect scenic view
One whole city at our palms.
Belgrade cracks before our eyes
Statue-shadowed, it’s alight

Eternal is this vignette
Of a fiery townsman’stête
Under Victor’s statuette.
Our deal, though, is most worthwhile

Ro co do co cro co file

Gentle mom frightens her child
With a carcass most reviled
They rend those who cannot swim
New age jumpers, wretches dim

Slime and lees the water sweeps
One life, joyless, Death doth reap
In the slimy croc-filled dip
The beast took my blood’s turbid sip

One black freckle graced my leg
Their three lids are snow-filled kegs
Two icicles slipped mid-stream
From agape, cold Nile, it seemed

Wherein formed an iceberg vast
Empty trash can, of crocs past
Wicked that have fled erstwhile
No more delta formed by Nile

All its force now in exile
Emigrants on nightly mission
Clatter on with sharp dentitions
And their bodies slither slow

Pays up, then comes to me quick
To get my whole body licked
There’s no flight, no submarines
Nemo quisquam captain-like

Nor a sailor, one whose looks
Dwell in Jules Verne’s famous book
Nor hope in the light of day
Which mid-hearts doth lives and stays

While we were so full, nubile
Prior to the crocodiles…
Prior to the crocodiles…

Cap’tayneNemo, come to us
Up close comes the Nautilus
Maybe there is hope, I chime
To engender a new rhyme

And while beasts all roar and flail
Let’s elope towards a new tale

Do come closer, do come closer
Worry not, worry not
You are but a child, you are
Squeal and weep and spew some snot

Even though a child you’re not
Trudge, step all over the valley
For your shepherd follows by
Should I try and throw the die?

But, that number falsify
For the croc doubts aught and low
Taken by his mighty stench
That the killer up and went

Boat amid the night blood fled
With it filled the riverbed
And exchanged the Euric lead
Guate’s cute asylum spiel

Now I must break our deal
Cro co do co lo do reel
(Cò?)
Do co cro co ro do KILL!

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