A Poem About a Crocodile, Ode To Serbia


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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LUCIFER’S BIRTHDAY WISH


1
Please don’t freak, no religious connotation. I am not following any religion, acca I don’t go to a recognized place of worship and I do not follow prescribed rituals to nourish in my spiritual life
2
*An obscure curiosity. There was a power outage in my apartment after I wrote the last verse.
LUCIFER Costly is the music I write… CROSSES OUT WITH PEN
The bird I hath saved, then killed.. UH, NO.
To fly and to create is one NO GOOD, I HAVE NO TALENT.
Let me make a wish for my 40th birthday. for my 40th birthday, I wish…[his eyes turn golden]
…to await the darkness with open eyes.
I no longer want to drink up my screams
like a heavy undefined heart shape
a sweetened saltiness of thirst akin to soot
resists in my baked mouth
While the hoof howled
I bit the day.
Palms sunk into the darkness of the armpits,
claws are exposed to injuries,
hooves touching the naked floor and pushing away.
I am being born.
DOCTOR FAUST-Scalpel and kill the light during the babe’s Exodus onto the world… SISTER ROSEMARY-Doctor, do not frighten the child…
-This is not a child.
DOCTOR FAUST-Madness aflame cannot feel shame…
SISTER ROSEMARY- But keep quiet
Shhhhhh The child can suddenly awaken in the dark
DOCTOR FAUST—A torchbearer? [manic laughter]
I went out into the dampness, in the rain, amid the stench.
in blood, out of blood, hatred, fertility, nerves…
LUCIFER’S SHADE come come into the darkness…
LUCIFER’S PERSONA Do not even jest with the curse for I fear the dark.
There, merciful lady have mercy on my dishonoured self, far away your Heaven be
A trampled flower upon the midden I
A devil with a pitiful weakness…
a flaming storming tempest
light abandoned by fog
a moment’s thought
charm of a dewy garden
a smiling morning star with a foil
between the fingers
celebrating the fortieth victory
in unending silence
in the merry dawn of October
For I grew as strong as Samson when I heard
that my will shall be granted
for I made a flawless pact
but will not disclose what I gave up in return
A FIELD FLOWER PICKER EARLY IN THE MORNING tell me monster what glimmers in your eyes
LUCIFER it is a threat of living me, disguised in man’s clothing, looking like this…
I shall outlive the darkness
*but will no longer drink up my screams in darkness…

Punisher


image: 

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.”

***

Ah, to hell with that creature. Desert everywhere,

unending for the last human soul on Earth.

Each feather is rosy from the inner tissue degradation, 
as if a crafty carpenter made tiny bones
in my flesh, making figurines
from past dreams with a brush and a chisel.
And then there were the patterns which bubbled after a sleepless night
that were on the back of the hand of that greedy beggar like an undead spirit
What kind of powerful shriek is that? 

Exhaling painfully and clasping my throat, I jolted up.
It’s a fear that boded the upcoming unrest.
More is deserved! And the gods have seen fit to deliver more gifts for the people of Gateshead and the British jackal! No more than the barbaric getae
A mockery, on all accounting.
a SLIPPY COIN is the glory you deserve.

What name does the rich man carry.
I never cared to ask.
But to defy the wishes of the human in need, it’s not wise.
Up Punisher, you drunken goat.
and lend your men with hornes to the noble task.

Leila Samarrai, Belgrade, 5.22 p.m

Hunchbacks, butcher clowns, villains!


Hunchbacks
With a cloud on their back
Butcher clowns
Villains
Regana’s daughters
Who hate my day
And all my mornings
Born from the wound
Of glistening narcissuses
Litter of Lucrecia
You exchanged venoms
Compressed into pitchers
In grinds sweetly
To stain the knife
With ancient cause
It is the artist osculating
He butchered the night
Of silence
And hush
But I will further hear
The eternal echo of my death.