House of Freaks


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,
this house
this wire
this fleur-de-lis
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?!

A golden effigy


image: Tantric Sorcerer,” William Mortensen, 1932

 

Let no single stone in the world suppose
After breathing, pain and dying
Slowly, shileded by new cloth in well – devised battle

Oh, my lions…

March in dark blue trousers, again and again
with the nerve!, between tooth decay and the pure
hill of milled edge.

In preaching of apostles
in credulity of harlots
I arise to – day, forged within

A golden effigy.

quick to take an artistic hint
avoid the obvious and
the commonplace;

For I am invoked by the blood, through
the flesh blood and the malignant scorpion
I dispel Irae in the heart and soothes…

I copulate with half-said thing.
For I am a dead scholar.
Sink not upon a bad of pyre, It is a flowery pain.

It’s coming down in buckets
Looks like a stigmata
My buckets runneth over.

Holy me!

For I am in twirl and retreat, through utter crack
I swim with yama – ubas grotesques.
Dance deathless

When I die
I make a meal
of myself.

For I tore down my images…
A weary time through confession of
Every man who speaks of me

I am a beggar of all churches
I am a Being of all trades
I am not here
I am not even – there.

May imnmutable secret shine brightly upon
our withered body:

I summon thee, Unreallity, that thee
may see when trick is gone.
I remain.

By the virtue of all deaf and dumb and Lazarus,
I command thee: come forth and beguile them
with lies closed behind and orphaned moons.

Erotic to the soul, fair golden goddess
decieve us.

Master and Servant, Leila Samarrai


“For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.”, Matthew 13:13

Strange and for me, shameful, hypocritical, let’s say, paradoxical  Bible quote, but what else to be expected from the tax collector. This should be a motto of every bank in the world… written in bold letters, to bath the counter desk with the sacred meaning.. 

SERVANT
Matthew,You, Master, with prostitute blessing,
look at ME!
If I pay Caesar what belongs to him and to God his due,
What is left for me?
How do I pay next time?
You place your head on holy ground…look up!
Are you the One who blesses only the rich?
Are we not blown in the same winds?

MASTER
No! No.
Go to church brave Esther
To esteemed pillars of Jerusalem
Plunge your sword in alchemy of truth and lies
Are you hungry enough to think you’ve fallen?
Did they make you believe you are so low?
Your deeds glorify thy righteousness
How ridiculous to be well read and hungry!
Let their empty hearts speak, spill gold
Believe in me, when empty hearts speak
When your eyes are gouged out, believe in me
Forgive those who do not have–
And reconcile the human injustice.

Oh Matthew, still, you hide.

.

If I was.. , Leila Samarrai


If I was
an American, born immune to viruses brought by the invaders
Prometheus, the demigod who never brought fire
Cleopatra who held the feathered serpent on her breasts
instead of a cobra

If I was
a history when Cleopatra and Antony were never in love
the poem in the eternal procreation
the knife in the hands of Brutus
Had I been Joan D’ Arc whose schizophrenic innocence
carved at least 14 churches in her meat
had I survived seven hundred years of solitude
maybe I could pour out gold from Odin’s finger
and build a shrine on a plateau in the hungry savannas
for starving children in the Horn of Africa

I’d resign Arabs and Christians
I’d raise Irbil, gentile monastery in Iraq
transformed into a field of powder
I would sing…
a variety of languages
I’d tear the Tower of Babel apart
I’d make ten thousand things be possible
In my name
in His name
in .. someone’s name
I’d become pungent silence
for you
for me…
for our world whose tenderness is shot with the bullet
for the holy son whose blood is chiming incurable.

If I was…