make me.. whisper.. in thousand poppies/in the valley of wrath


I water my anger
to the Virgin blest yclept
a sun – ypointing eternally slept
by brooding darkness myrth

Then you, violence, my  fancy of itself
of wrinkled care desires
make me.. whisper.. in thousand poppies

lost in sudden, turns damp to infusion brewed
of the winding morning chalice
hence  the frolic awakening of a spinning man
cast high awakening malice

Poppied, yellow June
has such violent roses
to the thorns has  long, sharp
fingernail,

amulet, blade
fingertips of  cobra Basilisk
All wreathed bites
echoes in a rumpus of shade

Wrath after wrath
into the happy blossom
to shake the poisonous bell
while yet my  weep cheer Cimmerian

In the budding of the caterpillar

hell
upon grey bloody hair
and not within my razzmatazz eye
and upright mad rabid Lyssa
amidst the feast of rage-stuffed time

I touch
the necklace of Harmonia

(hallowed be my irre)

The thunder-blasted glees  or past injustices,
shall bloom the thunder flashes of lightning
in the drip all over dominion

Sometimes suddenly
comes at eventide beggar
knight named NIGHT with the coinage in all the pomp
frenzied Zadkiel holds my dagger, dressed in Indigo-Sloth

or one more worthy sunfish
caught in blood down dry
dare, cornucopia…

to lay down upon the poor sleeper’s cry

***An excerpt from a Wandering soul poem


My blindness,
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

While unease ripens in the fog
Lulled inside the years
A bloodied sun comes out in the west

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wandering-soul-poem/

TAROT READING POEM, by Leila Trajković Al – Samarrai


in giving judgment against us, hear us with patience

Beneficence,
would you be mine villain within
the affrighted sun ye that sees the light,
sun and stars

that we may inquire my youthful sabre, please
but behold you silver Zion,
once, adulteresses’

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed
I whisper murder and your name
on my lips.

fires of the wave,
veiling the horizon.
they lifted to the sounding goblet,
effaced letter engraved:
JUDGMENT court le monde Primitif.
shame clings to murderers!

(sound od poker and gambling, shuffling and dealing)

…let the rustling tower be near
red be the tint of streams,
but vain’s is thy wish
seem to pass through a vale of tears.

(the sound of Klazomania)
Behold, king of backstabbing spears will be the sentinel of tarot pack!

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed
I whisper murder and your name
on my lips.

red traveller night
assails
there unceasing lord of day reign
eclipsed adieu
to live unheeded
snare.

that to pterosaurlike maids
trying to prostitute me through
la Isla Bermeja, The Lost Island

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed
I whisper murder and your name
on my lips.

The foe came forth my dark bosomed ship
to cheer my carrion to waves and roars
The friend’s ghost long for an equal fame

stridulous trinkets made by dark javelins
the milestone of distance from –

o slanderers of Rahab!
so careful is thy harlot, and anxious to last.
It will suck your blood until your guilt cries out.

clairvoyance said, scratching out a rising Arcana:

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed
I whisper murder and your name
on my lips.
Its claws on my back.

Duo


https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/duo-8/

A sky in the blood crimson

and the shrill on hell coal black
sings like a kangaroo, left-hand dance you’ll see,

Of the inward sun sets fortitude
as never loved before
unencumbered

The hysteria accelerates
such cello keel unto the strum
rarely performed publicly

A drunk lover crossing promenade
Soon, Pitiful spirits, zombies and Christianlike buried
swaying to the sceletons sarabande

To sound of the tune went false,
I know
I pen
I ink

there, a love cardboard intelligent box
here, deft, a drunk casino
let’s gamble to savouring a twosome

The morning-numbing days


The morning-numbing days

After tumbling, you feel on the rail
as the sun goes down on you,
tainted and with laundry over the pirate’s eye
they think you’re a cat,

a suicidal swirl
they don’t even take a minute for breakfast
for relapse of one’s presence
nevertheless, everything is
day

I remember tall arches on houses lost
I recall fire off the flower of the night
I remind frosts of the beginning of fall –
Bringing echo that was filled with dim

The tempter, to thee I call
Yet not with surpassing echo
crowned
in afterglow at my family kitchen table

Wake up before eternity
wake up in the shade that enshrouds
wake up the bitter memory
ere the tea for sculptured homeless sleep
and the child’s dream, with carvings
gone by.

THE SNORE’S REVENGE


To recognise the limbs with humour
no, understand against the evil sheeps
One, two…
Under the guidance of a snoring wolf
my eyes agape, bloody, were lamentations
so far punished by snoring
of my Wolfen neighbour

It is Ere ere
Ere against the leering snort
Past the grey tumultuous night
three, four…. evil born sheep
quenching the dying chamber of eyes
(sound of snoring)
Snorer set growls drolling.
no tyrant shall blast
his sweet nighthood peace.

A crescent-shaped steel
Ghastly hee-hee-hee
bold and azure.
Vultures at the snoring spirit
loud roared sulphurous hyena
In the throes of anguish growl

Sounded like a dreary doom
sounded like a surcharged wall
through rattan sought thus led to Ere
again unseen forever snoring
Bleeding ear.

to find no place for rest
to abhorrent steadfastness of sweet hope,
snorer shall taste my pain and my tears,
that while my footsteps inebriate
and with pomp fate… ah!

This knife is my witness…
Once I loved that man,
cacophonies fade out
awaken, whoreson.

As I gaze upon his vocal cords
a conquered deed worst of deadly might
the scarlet blossoms in drop of blood

And do not drop in beneath the dying flute
submerged in knife, darkest night
snorer dark and wild is smiling around the
reedlike chair
when paradisial winds…

In readiness, a knife dragged the seest
dropsy, I descend down into the dream
finally in peace

undisturbed tomb of he tit–amulet in my madhouse.

Laying In Wait To Pounce Upon His Prey – Poem by Leila Samarrai


https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/laying-in-wait-to-pounce-upon-his-prey/

So beautifully lined with fear,
a face of the loser, the being bearing
her cross with Christian fortitude,
the cross built of the entire human experience
Ms Masters in the art of loneliness.
The archetypal example! Monsters! It’s been years since
I’ve seen that kind of
monsters, so twisted,
it’s… quite disgusting,
even by nightmarish standards.
Once the man was nailed to the cross
Today, the cross is crucified in man

Expose those clowns,
throw them into mud pits
and ensure their eternal destruction.

I do not tolerate rivals.
There’s only one Rabisu* doing what is bad to his neighbor.! ,
Who do they think they are to compare with my malice,
those vicious monsters! .
My malice is going for theatrics.

Seeing them circling above you in the physical world,
I realized our encounter was no accident, right?
I received word of you… that say you were..
You, in your own way,

My Morrigain demoness of the corpses,
my Mora, my queen of the nightmare..
We’re exactly the same.
Ah, I cannot tell more

But, now I believe..
In intentional encounters!
it’s almost like a one-way love affair.
laying in wait to pounce upon his prey

Monster/Parallax’ – Poem by Leila Samarrai


https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/monster-paralax/
I am here…
– I shutter
partition starts –
the pieces,
chaos moving in,
a fury within devils
rupturing with enormity
giving stirring laughter
and wings (numb they, edged with menthol

“The man you speak of no longer exists.”
We are here,
I tremble…
sapless from dark honey,
blood in seltzer,
wine’s reverse dream about grapes –
of a web unbound
fog at pale-speed
drifts my eyes to focus
(my teeth Wolfen still,
flesh remembered…

“Then what stands before me assuming his manner and form? ”

I am here
weak sapless from fanged honey
my teeth Wolfen still
flesh between
bound to hard gums
“A monster is rough-hewn by unfortunate events

and given breath by necessity.”
Leila Samarrai

Mary of Bethany, an unmercifully wicked sinner


LEGEND OF “THE LEGEND OF THE CURSED MOTHER, MARY OF BETHANY, A HEARTLESS SINNER” 

 

Author’s note: The function of the religious references in my poetry is solely archetypal. I’m not otherwise particularly interested in religion, aside for its educational purposes, nor am I at all religious.

Cursed Mother, Mary Of Bethany

A sinner she, stoned to death for whoring, for the Lord made her unable to conceive; caught in the act of fornication with other women, for witchcraft, for an attempt to murder her husband with the soup of slain swans; her sins are many, and she is but one of many sinners

And what can she say, Mary, the spat-in-her-face mother?
she – heiress of the firstborn whore in the city?
the Bible’s bad girl
Barren?
A prostitute?
A heartless sinner?
give her beauty and truth, to ruin them
cut off her Rumina’s breasts, to soak her wounds with tears
let thorns grow within her belly instead of children, she will bleed…

MARY:
My ghostly eye was pointed at a thick
thorn that burst out of my body and continued growing…
a thin beam of sunlight turned it into a vampire limb for raping of human souls

O, you vampiric slingers!

Do the Prophet’s words not haunt thee?

Dear husband, do the devil’s sneers not haunt you?

Cast not your stones at my eyes!

l, an infertile woman with
slit chest
I, Mary Of Bethany, an unmercifully wicked sinner
I hug my children under the tongue of the sky
in the celestial womb where
all my unborn children lie hidden
and the resurrected body of this world and all other worlds
and drops of milk running down my swollen breasts
blessed,
I nourish my castaway children under the star-spangled sky and refresh them with bloody bile and wine

I am a feminist drag King Of Heaven
Praise Jesus.

Thwack thwack thwack

 

This is poetry of the rebellious blood
in insurgency.

***

https://sh.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Stoning_of_Soraya_M.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1277737/

 

 

 

 

Maria Stadnicka

Never / Hungry / The / Poem / Is

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