Ascension of albatross

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Diabolic grimace from angry vortices
in the waters,

I rise above the waves and the human figures

as albatross.


The crews’ eyes on me,

like they wish they too fly

to save their lives but I flap to rise and flee

from Death with force.


Above the clouds

I soar into the safety

by the sun’s skies,

the poor humans’ sight melts my heart with pity,

they lose their lives


as I look downwards, I could not help but leave

them to Doom’s jaws,

so I rise in flight facing the sun alive,

grand in its place.

Poems from my travels, Barcelona, Part Two “Finio”


5

Part One

https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2020/12/11/poems-from-my-travels-barcelona-temple-of-augustus/

TRAVELLER:
Don’t mind my words…,(in loud voice) 

Dead and Alive! I visit you from grave to grave, 

even though the emperor orders us to return to

where we can be happy, where inner voices whisper

for I have come into a welcome darkness, 

deep and all-encompassing, 

at the feet of the dead prince of the Roman carnival,

 in the rift between two uncertainties, two states and remorse, 

what you suspected I was and what I did not know I was becoming.
.. is here.

All this ..

This?

it is the incarnation, the roar

of the corpses of the long-dead,
all this … digging, digging… the light of rage
I am a golden vein from which debris drips

 and I whine in the grip of monstrous teeth

I am a surreal image

moving in tense dreams under tight eyelids.

A bloody, bizarre story in a kind of book 

where one page is written from scratch, 

with variations, with follow up cacofonia of a broken record    

And crown with weeds our pandoras of mythical horror
 And warm our blind ruins with the sun,
And break our howling of tanned throats 

with the ricochet of their howling,
 Amen when it’s all over,
dust to dust, ruins to ruins
and it all goes on

EMPEROR: (noticeably upset)

As everything continues,
You will go to another planet, to another sea
and you will find a grave better than this.
you forgot a lot – various little things – that justified you enough
Down, through long links of esse all unvexed
Where birth and death meet.
to die at the bottom of yourself, in the depths of the forest, 

where no one will find you
to die in the basement of confiscated thoughts,
to die in a ghostly square, in a rehearsal in loneliness,
or
  Among your fairest thoughts, 

your tallest flowers,
From root to crowned elevations 

beyond pain to your crucifix ..

 I would die like that
to die, to flash bucolic,
as a stage, saturated – unreal

 in such a landscape
but not you, it’s too dry for you … 

like a pipeline vivisection
By all ghosts of hybris birds,
having appeared by night gleaming
like lightning bolt upright the Tarpeian fate
insolent the pheasant you are
behold the day of throwing the heads 

of their murdered singing cries
all told Tarpeia is close to Capitol
(sigh)
Let the eons of accumulated remorse pass
mine are, by Jove, monstrously large and bright
for a titanic – domineering life .. 

crammed into wobbly carriages
pulled by slaves
as everything continues sliding towards

the Music of the blue invisible spheres, 

with torches in the darkness
and I am completely alone with myself.

TRAVELLER: “Is that an order?”

EMPEROR: “Yes. It’s an order.
Press thy face to pedoliths or peds
 My immortality is there.
Now, go, a small mortal creature
Farewell has long been said;

I for I already have forgotten you.

(Sensing the Emperor’s disappointment, the Traveller retreats into the shadows)


TRAVELLER:
  Disappointment, bleed or
Stop bleeding
 round this dearest neck
the illustrious descendants of kingly wretches
I offer you a fair skin of my conscience
I offer you a curled into a ball fist
 I damsel, I unblest.
All the wolf hunger awakens.
Let the old mill continue to grind

 the compulsive grain of royal accusations.
let the heirs of the amen caves proudly limp,

dragging behind them the broken pots

 from the space that the Tarpeian furies created

from the rich, thick drapery 

of someone else’s blood.
THE ACCURSED, carefully-concealed step
will finish the last turn of my course of
travels, even as I began.
you, divine cans of preserved sacred, triune,
lo, the singing of the death raven 

of our eternal phantasmagoria of death
lo, the wailing of a wounded bird 

that flies peacefully in the frozen air

 will take care of us all.
So the satiated gods fell in love cannibalistically

 with their bloody children 

blurting forth a speech of madness,

(the indolent The St National Kitchen Passion)

(TRAVELLER drinks a jug of mead and disappears)

The Birth of Narcissus


My eyes look down to gaze upon the lake
and I found my face dressed in the sun’s light;
upon the lake’s surface, the radiance
of my face yields me to kneel before it.
My prized face, beside I, your fond bearer,
you are my one true love with fair features
I gaze to touch with my newborn stretched arms;
recreating myself, but in my own image.
Lithe mirror, what pure formed creature I am,
I do get pricked by piss-poor perfection
I have no room for this damned society
of humanity’s thoughtless castaways,
Now that I have found my mad reflection!
One vanity, one ilk, one jealousy
that gazes at what she can never touch!
No more! And one love always responded.
With this new love brought from Heaven to Earth,
with this eye-catching life hove into view
from the freezing water, no more head-path,
no more dark clouds overhead my shoulders
with the selfsame sharp-tasting smell of storm
there will be…No! No more waking life, no!
No more wounds in my back, no tears at night!
No more…at the end of the sun’s journey!
My mind crystal to see love is the key;
my hand is taking the silvered mirror;
my keen lips are kissing the lips of God;
my first date I am having with Myself.
written by Leila Samarrai
edited by: Obinna Eruchie
www.allpoetry.com/Obinnex
https://www.poemhunter.com/obinna-kenechukwu-eruchie/

Back beyond, back beyond, back beyond.


Wherever I go, they are at my heels
sick and angry feelings
I am sipping
drip, drip, drip
so it that gets diluted out
through the fog
is racing the headless horseman

Back beyond.

The howling morning took my fingerprints
by tapping the hoof with a hoof
come in, burning madness, do not be shy
almost a hundreds of miraculous years
this woman has been away

Back beyond, back beyond, back beyond.

I will no longer be posting Boris K. stories until…


I will no longer be posting Boris K. related full stories until the book is published. After this gem that I am right now sharing with you, I’m taking a break.

A Short, Though Not as Concise History of the Downthesewerese People

Boris K. was well acquainted with the history of the Downthesewerese people as written in the holy book of Cunnilinqus. The original manuscript was in the Linz city library:

And thus the goddess Sewera did cast a grim curse upon the city encasing in in eternal ice. As if this weren’t enough, she also created the Seweronimbus, the ice cloud ‘pregnant with semiprecious jewels of manholeatta and sewerrathata.’

And the young goddess had lost her knitting needles that afternoon, without which she could not have even imagined a more creative way to pass the eternity.

And then, upon taking a stroll among the walls of the unfurled Empire, she observed a nubile young Downthesewerese lass which she had created from the Egyptian Nile river residue.

And upon that most unfortunate day it was when the goddess felt a tinge of anxiety and disturbance. Thus she decided to seek pleasure in the palace. A feast was arranged then in her honor which, much to her dismay, the young blind Downthesewerese lass attended.

And the goddess did plant her in marble, fed her well, then talked her into giving ice skates a try. And the blind Downthesewerese lass carelessly rushed all over the icy surfaces.

And seeing as the lass had been clumsy and seeing as she rose back on her feet with more difficulty with each subsequent fall on the iced surface, the goddess did then offer her to try her hand at softball. The lass managed to injure herself in this sport as well.

And the goddess said, Wee Downthesewerese wench, you play defense. You’re in the foul zone now, get back to base!

And the lass did respond, But, goddess I cannot see! Where are the balls?

And the goddess did say, You are the ball! The goddess did reply wickedly, swung her hand and catapulted the Downthesewerese lass back to base and charged up the running bath in order to catch her mid-air.

And yet after playing her own particular form of a softball game, with the Downthesewerese lass’ help who was now stumbling blindly all over the palace and screaming, the goddess was still far from amused.

And thus she decided to enter the Glasssnake whose snow-white scales shined on the sunlight like a milky-white glass and with this action placed the Downthesewerese lass under temptation. She gave her a magic Linz banana and she did hiss, Should you eat this, four eyes will open up and you will become the best softball player in the known world. You will also have your own softball bat, and it will take the form of a magical banana from Linz.

And the Downthesewerese lass did realize that the banana was a fair meal, felt it up and established that its form was desirable and tempting. And she did take one of the fruits from the snake’s hands and ate it. Four eyes opened the very next moment and the lass came to realize that she had been naked. Upon this realization, the Earth tore asunder and the Downthesewerese lass fell through a horrifically deep pit.

Thus did, according to the holy book of Cunnilinqus, the first manhole come to pass and thus did the Downthesewerese woman get her name. Boris K. loved that part the most.

And amid the darkness of the first manhole the Downthesewerese lass did hear the beating of footsteps. A well-groomed Downthesewerese lad had carelessly been strolling down the goddess’ gardens when he tripped on the Linz magic banana peel and fell into the manhole.

And the goddess Sewera did take but one look at the manhole and saw that he was fine. Thus she created the Union made up of 28 Manhole countries.

And the goddess said, As long as I live you will dwell In the Lands of the Manholes and be the lowest of all men! And she did growl and reduce them all to the size of a human thumb. And the cruel goddess took all the precautions and forever separated Linz from the Downthesewerese folk surrounding them with seventy-seven seas and four hundred and thirty three winds.

And even with that having transpired, the Downthesewerese did not lose hope, believing that a day will come when they will, wandering the manholes in search of ideal sewer life conditions, manage to overcome the set obstacles, return to their place of birth Linz and entreat the merciless Sewera.

Vanished flowers, Leila Samarrai


lost_hope_by_fatranita

image found here

My distant seas
Flooded the land
In the night.
My bright fires
Smell burned nostrils.
Pain.
Distorted are
The kisses.
My warm dreams
Frosted by
Extinct stars
And oaths
Which only the constellations
understand.
There they are
Like curses.
The thief took away the peace
Kept in a vortex ‘till then.
Frozen reflections sleep
Vanished flowers
Through irony
Heal hell.

2.
The wounds elicited hopes
To
Exhausted
stranded
onto the rocks of ancient seas
bring peace to the castaway.
They prolonged the eternal day
To one more wrathful hour.

3.
Have you not been brought by the departed
into dark regions
by the narrowness of heart?
Eat your own heart.
Let snow cover it.
The sight and breath return
After the strike of the matured essence.
Let Truth become essence to you
The quest
Pretty fresco carved
By the eye of the stern
Iced
Sun.

THE ROAD, Leila Samarrai


1.

My distant seas
Flooded the land
In the night.
My bright fires
Smell burned nostrils.
Pain.
Distorted are
The kisses.
My warm dreams
Frosted by
Extinct stars
And oaths
Which only the constellations
understand.
There they are
Like curses.
The thief took away the peace
Kept in a vortex ‘till then.
Frozen reflections sleep
Vanished flowers
Through irony
Heal hell.

2.
The wounds elicited hopes
To
Exhausted
stranded
onto the rocks of ancient seas
bring peace to the castaway.
They prolonged the eternal day
To one more wrathful hour.

3.
Have you not been brought by the departed
into dark regions
by the narrowness of heart?
Eat your own heart.
Let snow cover it.
The sight and breath return
After the strike of the matured essence.
Let Truth become essence to you
The quest
Pretty fresco carved
By the eye of the stern
Iced
Sun.

4.
Look how they drink wine
And make merry with thorns
They feed the fish
On the river Jordan.
They gather them with a hat
Quickly serve them
Even faster gnawed
They throw them back to the water
And croak to the moon
Into the mum day.
They followed the tail of the star
To see her head
Embryos of the entirety
To remove.
In hands they carry gold,
Hear where they say:
From spirit the emerald was born.

5.
Mystics listen to her
Cynics vomit her
Midwives truth-birth her
And since always
Welcome her on hands
That insidious trash
To fill their pitchers
With her feces.
Born from the spirit of pride
From the spleen of law
From the blood of forefathers
From the womb of lies
From seventy seven
Forgiveness
The fools loved her
Saints like a knick – knack
Showed her on the fair
Liars about her
Sexually fantasized
Ecce veritas
Spends her life next to Dionysius ,
Bloodless turkey cocks and donkeys
Smell her sacred beak.
Crowned with laurels
Permeated with boredom
In the tasteful asylum
And she sings in blood
To dampened strings
While watching her reflection
In the lavatory of Hades
Remembers
Progenitrix
Now already an aging whore
Arose from the dream
To maintain the dream.

6.
From the cold
in the bones
in the cold
to the bones
where have you
banished
Your brother Cain
And them?
Will they die?
From the ice
Under bones
Will they drop dead?
By sheet
Of winter
In the bones
All those who
On Good Friday
Got some kind of
Shoes
To walk the earth;
The dream extracted from my eye.

7.
Mister,
In the polished macrocosm
Cleansed from the dirty
The poor and the ugly
May my prayer
Rip your moment of peace.

8.
I live in peregrine flesh
I think in a peregrine head
I don’t want to be stultified!
(Apparition!
Why you write so loud?)
I have been cured
To perversity

9.

I believe in craziness
In the seed of furore
Like Chateaubriand
Which confides into the power
Of Borodin sun
I believe in scum
Sideway spheres
Cuckoo eggs
Saint Ignatius cantinier
I am
The snack of lions
Holy Trinity
And drunken senate-crown
In poison-(mis)ery
I swear
To senex
Which catches up with youth
Princeps of principibus
Thrown into the arena
Sown with sandals
Of devoured magistrates
The fruit of time lowers by the sky
My bones beside the son
The second son
Of Urbin
It is a cowardly
graveyard
Since then I circle
With white dogs
Through haze
Upon shores.

10.
Pierced by sound
Wave the forks
With the mute ear
Hunt the landloper
Broken by a blackguard
The tempest rushes towards wrath
Silence and bones
Of some ancient springhead
Springhead through bodies.

11.
He dies in words
The man who writes.
Drowned fish slide
Down bloodied carousel
Unconscious eyes
The man writes
Dives like a bird
For a sonata
Drowned in the fountain
The passerby in water
With unmoving feet
And he and her
And us and you
Head to the clouds
The harvest sown
In the iris
They quest for a vision
She shapes in a poem
The bloody thirst
Bitterness mocks her
They pass dipped
In icy bathrooms
Through peaceful centuries
You know well
Who writes
About the luster of infinity
Or nothingness
It is equal
In vain.

12.

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.

13.
In the hour of celebrated departure
The warriors slumbered.
They breathe out under banners
And bloom in the hollow.
Flowers separate them.
Or are those
Intersected roads ,
Nemesis,
Time fell asleep
In ambiguities.