edited by: Obinna Eruchie
Whither, midst this glimmering dew locked
Poised on one crystal sorrows of all might
While glow the loitering through a vast
with its adamantine
with the last steps of you dead arose
there I am, oft far, through mine panther dance
dost thou pulse of
The butterfly in silence
whirled that makes a star
The moonlight of all the earth
be trodden gold
Vainly the quiet reed drain,
sigh on sigh,
whorl on whorl
Nor any love not any rose
Has it a meaning, the Arabian butterfly
Had words of thy distant slumber that feeds on mourn
As our face, your voice, darkly painted
Thy bluebells now, the dead arose
Seek’st thou the sweet records
Of weedy moment or inward eye of river wide,
Or where the rest tossed each other close
On the chafed woodland shod?
There is a Music whose care
Dwellers thy way along that pathless hour-
of the laurelled and illimitable air–
Lone sailing gull,
betrothal ring luminously by
all the world grow
Blossom and blade
The eyes that tell no scarlet
Bringing the tiny thunderings
The moon, like a guardian, are silent in
All day thy silver ornaments were sitting in your hear
At that visit caves the cold, thin thirst away
Yet pour sleep not, Dark, benighted methought
I lay the cup fulfilled was brightest
,, to the welcome of a madwoman haled,
Though the dark night pity me
with flaming flowers close house of glass
And soon that toil of thy auguries shall end
Soon shall you rest in the depth of a
And scream among o the crystal blues; reeds imprisoned
yondering through the mist,
sick white birds feasting
Soon, unchanging glow
on laughter rings
in a virgin cavern the abyss of heaven
Deeply has sunk with clouded eyes whose tears
the surging water marshes blind
ceased to lay ice on to lassitude
Guides through the boundless pallid beholding
Behold the stagnant hour
Did will tread my steps aright?
all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019
edited by: Obinna Eruchie
I went towards the timeless ocean of temporality,
to the very beginning, on the shores
of cursed waters where dead faces grinned
Speak will I not of the terror I saw upon the rough-hewn coast
may evil see you, black tooth bite you
and fume its pungent breath into your soul –
they pull my sleeve, pull me with them,
as I scream and fling stones at them,
and whichever I reach out for, they kick it hard,
and this lasted for a while, until they fled.
As is the circle that gone around this heat
I walk like a sleepwalker, through memories.
who may they be, they whose violence can’t be undone, like filth
which nature makes all roundabout in this sick land?
Whose land is this?
The witch smacked her hands together,
demons came out of her evil eye,
and I woke up, seeing it as round and round as the sun.
A dark glow was white in the newly-born day.
Here she is. Cathedral front porch.
The Gilded Angel, the entrance hidden
the hour’s missing
under the golden light
and with the body of cherubim
I do not want to enter damn thing,
but facing the cruel world in the beast,
fear came over me, it swore at me insanely
and gave me a smack on the cheek.
While I quivered terrified on the accusing wind,
and at one moment stopped,
lost in the light
of the merciless machine which kept chugging,
non-stop, looking at me vengefully, demanding more…
my skin is sensitive, it will not endure this.
Perchance evokes from its lofty perches
aflame in anger in House of Freaks
time is ticking. Space dying,
on display for carnival patrons
step warriors clad in leather armour, their axes bloodied
with a wicked howl of the wind
More and more near approaching
human chicken tarred and feathered
“We accept you, we accept you”
It took my hand and got me in.
Look. The sign is crookedly placed!
in front of the church!
all of this clowning around,
all of this is wrong,
instances inscribes threatening riddles
forcing a finger into the joke
above the shield
a royal crown, with church gates shut!
Where, where are you taking me…
what misfortune is this?!
Do obsess over the minute details.
each contains a drunken interweave.
to spite the enormity of a worthless attempt.
I write painfully,
swim through the similes,
I shorten the story, then expand on it,
Up until that point as strong as a megalith,
almost to the point of an afterthought.
We stand on the brink of abysses of the deeps.
merely feel the frightening, introverted search
we have displaced ourselves in fantasy
and multiply ourselves as we please
We peer through our silence
observing through eyes unseen,
that silence tears through,
at times shrugs and as if shaking of a stone,
that particular motion, then like exhaling in pain,
went over our years with a filthy rag
to stop lasting, breasts of bile and blood,
room full of blood, venom and suffering.
A real-life zombie land – wrinkled faces, pale,
as if robbed by a fever,
hardened backs bent,
scared and careful of the impending knife strike,
like lab rats, yet bloodthirsty.
We dug our venomous teeth into it,
the skin, used our flesh, skin,
as a sacrifice for we had long decided
to set the clock, let it tick, until the end.
all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019
Blindness – the fate of the damned one
Hush – the habit of a killer
And dream – the wake of a mortal
It could have been three men
Merged with their eyes
Even though one of them is the blind man
To encounter a man with all his senses is a rarity
Because the road is not marked
If you do not see
Or do not dream
Or do not know how to keep quiet
Lyrics belong to everyone
Not even by escaping can you avoid her heaviness
So do not rush to anywhere
Do not feel the abdomen of the dark with your fingers
Somebody will die during the first twilight
And I will write about comets
Deprive the bread in your hands
And prepare the ploughed land
For the dead of rosy lips to breathe
I will counterfeit whatever is necessary
I will kill the chickens if the roses don’t stop them
You find those who accused us
Bridging the gap between mere existence and true life.
never learns ¯_(ツ)_/¯
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