Hell 2

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Yes. this will be my Hell now.And now we move to transcendence to Ubermensch (beware, Nietzsche beware!), we transcend the horizon – to impossible spheres where there’s something that’s there all the time, waiting all the time to be found, but it must be sought beyond the horizon at the worth of living. Cosmic insights. the great mystery of dark riddles whose resolution shines type of a diamond. A mysterious substance pulsates within the dark because it waits to be found.

Transcendence as deception

The breakthrough, in consciousness, of the earthly Quarantine-Hell-Prison, the self-liberation and overcoming of the forces that make and sustain them – must suffer from uncertainty, like most abstractions – the traveller behind the unfathomable deceptions reaches for the impossible. he or probably she is tired of living during a body that’s complex of minerals, she is chasing something more, and where she must be more aggressive than Achilles in his trip to the astral. we must not reveal what it’s … even the seeker isn’t sure. She just knows it’s something waiting to be found. maybe something… sinister, too… the seeker has neither god nor master.

Her master is blood. She lives happily in blood, ashes and dirt. On the due to the horizon, she may meet angry and horrible pirates, black, bloody galleys … and swords .. but she wants to urge there … behind .. for a lump of the sun, she’s going to kill and may probably die early.

Therefore on departure, she says that the soul for her means a degree higher and let the Iliad, Homer so on…

Let the devil carry all of them.

Let a temple be built white as a monastery for Ophelia!

Leila Samarrai.

Is it applicable also to stone?


Behold! Should you not dying, live;and living;die.

.. from the veil outward…

Ornaments and objects

A shrine to

Malleable walls

Cave jewelry

The falling through

The respiration by spilled images

Blazed with the day

In which I drowned

My inner Bishop

Bring back the change

Merely muffled roars and groans

In time.

You sing that song

Don’t…

Read that song.

That same stupid song

For the last three decades

This song you sing every morning

Where’s the song you’re gonna sing?

As the Deep is going down

Dive

You plunge into maelstrom of

Recycled paper

I saw, I felt, I sank

You got tased

You experienced extensive

Art production.

Surrender, fighgting and fighting  surrender

Is it applicable also to stone?

Ah I hate when liquid rock

Dips like that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

seven barmy blasphemers


1
I was putting powder on my cheeks for three nights
I was putting powder on my cheeks for three nights
as subsided temperamental Countess
of rosy cheeks without a dental crown

Are you not too slow and pious to
persecute me, and nail me to the cross
in the eyes of the thief
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

2
I am mild towards my alienígenas albertosaurus murderer
masquerading as a human being zipped inside a skin suit.
and the secret alignment that chords over us
while bombs and people were falling around us

3
While bombs and people were falling around us
I’m jeering from one end of the full stop to the other.
Goddess, God or Lord puts on a pair of black gloves, t
hough she – the black spaz is not the son of a glove maker.

She rose from the grave
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

4
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

5
I lined the idea that failed to flow forth
I lined the idea that failed to flow forth
as I hovered over the Shrapnel soap
while the 1999 Shrapnels were whistling around us
and I adjusted my face in the mirror
as waiting in the wings for my tears to come

6
I sang a lullaby for a happy heart-shaped face
I celebrated a feast that doesn’t come to mind
is silent without a pause, she – God – is black
and she listens without a pause,
with virtuoso aversion

I celebrated the feast through
Blessed Sacrament of anguish
At most, it’s vivisection.
in several pictures

7

I shuddered gracefully swamped in the turbid acid
the promotion faces were looking for love in my view
where there is no one else but blueness and croquet
oh, fine abstraction, you’re warm as saline

God abandoned Jesus on the cross.
their sadomasochistic relationship is predicted.
At most, it’s vivisection.
in several pictures

 

©Leila Sanmarrai, 2019 Belgrade