Cynical yellow thunder tears with rays
The parching earth – dry and infertile

I – Messaline!
Declare war to all the barren blacks
Who do not birth!
I summon Poseidon to impregnate
My mortal body with immortal progeny!
I summon the Heavens to bow down to my tentacles
Folded into a clenched fist!
I curse all the virgins racked by my woe
Fall to your knees before the filthy breed!
Beg to be fertilized by their pagan ritual!
Kiss their wounded feet
Like you will kiss your children!
Beg for one more drop of life
Which will violate your dishonorable body!


I – Messaline!
I am fire above all fire!
An untouched flower of the Sultan’s garden
The scepter in the hand of the powerless king
Cleopatra’s pyramid sank into mud
The carnival of appetence without masque
Twilight that dawns on an intact hip
The lust of Eve in the boring Eden
The forest unbathed by an ocean of blood
An unhealed wound beneath the hot navel
The unpierced rib in the deciding battle
A lonely nest devoid of it’s eagle.


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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