The Screams of the butterfly

In terrible airy alofts, flying high,
Adrift in anima amnesia’s,
Floating in fernweh forgottens,
A low birth in abyss’s,
Radiance in replete radials from rages
…In furious vortices.

You chase enchantment phantoms in Elysian fields,
Drips and drops tell tales to pebbling
flowers.
And sea’s shimmering sparkling spray,
Soliloquy’s shadowy opaque on gloaming coasts.

Butterflies, lonesome lighthouse sewn
shores,
The cannibalistic roses sanguine swell in opening horrors,
The star language songs sing and
susurrates,
Tower of Babel nations are euphoric in linguistic relates,
Your Jupiter cult divine drowned in
sacrificial wine.
The great oceans with brumal iced crest glistens luminesce,
Turning their faces in adorations to
eloquent suns.

Fires birthed from hollow
clouds eruption,
Butterflied veins in vain combust without refrain,
Butterflying flits in solar circles, dying in flaming cycles,
Swayed wings desperate, flutter flails
waves weave.
The sea shudders wide and the earth
gasps despondency,
It’s ceasing deceasing pleasing, powers
Gods.
Deserving of death, deserving of life…
Let him live…let him die…
Despised executioner, I…
But let departures be without
punishment.
The triumphant arrogant live…
…but if only…for one more moment.

It floats through sullen azure arches,
Delicates warbles sinking on failing ash
spark.
Strained in chained,
Fallen empires cycle timidly,
The swath mutes bitterly.
The screams of the butterfly.
In this witchly silence, the birds have no
name.

Howled realizations of impending
demise,
Roars in restless logos, linguistic
anguishing reviles.
The icy knife lunges, twisting in chests,
The dogs went wild from the scent,
Snake holes sent, trails for sour spent.

Icarus unspeakable without wings,
Eternal falling resonance in eternity
sings.
The unsettling crackling of film off it’s
reels,
Whooshing winds of terror revealed,
A thousand knives trembled eyes,
Broken winged horses and broken sighs.
Winged intimacy with deceasing,
Can you hear this breaking mercy?

Dropped to knee’s from flight, in front of shining seas light,
Womb burst swallowing lightning, torn
harsh flesh darkness in vain,
A new beast is born from the stain.
The cry of the caterpillar.

Falling lightning, beast in nerve cell
mornings,
Beast in miasmas with air on fire, breath a blazed!
Permeated atmosphere suffused
imbued.
She hoods submerging stars and turns
off the sun,
She transcends death threshing and flies
in the whirlwind storm,
Lunacy grasps the winged with scorn.

Transfigurations to sinister,
The harmonies collapse in desolation,
The intestines scream dissolution.
Sinking stars feverishly shaking black,
Red retch blood glares,
The veins swell chthonic flares.
Unquenchable expires,
Unsatiated thirst…fires!

This dawn of tamed passion possessed,
Mantles tremble in lowering laments,
The black forests gloam obsidian under
black moons,
The earthquakes grumble morbidity too
soon.
Dying iris turns transient,
Swallows hushed in sallow hollows,
The Hearances reviled,
The howl of the butterfly.
On this heartbreak soil
Deathly modus’s susurrous’s shipwrecks.
The Reaper ravages us all…
…For loss of her.

BUTTERFLY: Death, I heard you while you were breathing…
I heard you while you were sleeping…
I heard you while you were weeping….
I heard you while you were screaming…
Centuries of noosed escape,
Eons of eluding fate.
Shrieked clarions called silent,
On immortal heights.
The laughter of the butterfly.

The Existence Of Reality

1

Introduction

The guillotine would have fallen,

But for rusting cloying chains, 

Another patron complained,

That his head still remained,

Atop shoulders of existential dread.

Others amongst the rabble more fortuitous; 

“The lucky reduction of torment.”

(from an unknown author, exasperated, vexed, perplexed).

The crowd cries for her crucifixion,

“Disappear” they jeer!

A woman who’s not here,

(head falls into the basket, the audience cheers).

1

I am huddled in my bed,

Covered toe-to-head,

In emerald ash borer beetles of psyche keeps me company.

Pollution profanation, omnipresent,

Aqua sodden douse, bedraggled universal,

Psychotic scorpion flies erupting ubiquitously,

The material reduction deluge inescapable.

2

Divinity, hear me (says another poet):

I surrender essence to amaurotic amore ecstasy,

To abet fiendish fell experiments on sapiens,

To be your fourth Anti-Christ!

“What do you want?” sighs the daemon.

Hail sweet malice!

These foul malignant mortals need eternal silencing in pyre!

There are flickering color-storms remote from my tormented sights,

The head rises once more,

The skull also ascends.

For now in the gloaming unlight, I am going mad, by blessing of the cataclysmic midnight. …Bollocks.

Unsought objectionable, 

Undesired detestable, 

Unwelcome unworthy, 

Rejected dejected, 

Shun spurned, bitch-slapped and friendless.

With heart alone and solus, I cared not.

Now has begun my transition!

You’ll find pleasure through tribulations,

In shudder burning water rat-a-tat, stately in flames.

We are the womb, we are the abyss, 

We are the tomb, we are exhumed,

We are the vault, torch lit,

We are the crematorium, pyre pit,

We are the womb, we are the abyss,

We are the mausoleum, crypt kissed.

I submit my ethereal dream divine;

Of a destitute penury district,

I tender the beggar’s beautiful equipment;

Ragged white tights with black polka dots,

One solitary garbage bag, and a lonesome money can.

I offer you the saint who lived as a beggar,

Vagabonds solemnise humanity spitting on mankind,

Commodity and chattels, filthy rags of vagrants maligned.

3

O Nature, made of mercury,

Eternal enigmatic, aloof abstruse, arcane unfathomable.

You are clement, you are brumal, you are arid, you are sultry…

Whose end…is God.

Vomiting, retched out slimy bodies from my voice box,

Grim re-echoes in the dark,

Holding failed wigs in despondent hands,

And the humored rats whose presence is forgotten.

For the corpses do not die,

For the damned do not die,

For they do not die, from The Iliad to Civid19…

Wait!

Am I not also corpsed stillness for your eternal mortuary arts?!

4

I am huddled in my sarcophagus soliloquy,

Sheets stand upright,

Suffused with semen, pullulate and sprout,

Spread to muscles devout,

Tissue, blush, luxurious cheek,

Oculi’s a glow in the din!

Hands traverse the glacial keening gale,

Bellend, I, wandered worlds and clapped my hands.

Only whispers, then wheezing, then wailing, then sobbing, then shrieking…

Then the dogs begin to howl…

This fell monstrosity everlasting,

This abhorrence is undying,

This vulgarity villain is eternal!

Carry me.

Carry me whither to, the existence of reality.

(grave bursting)

Schizophrenic brother in need

Never again alone we bleed.

Photo Credit: https://www.this-is-cool.co.uk/surreal-art-andrew-ferez/

---

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Fracture

Let me consider a while, in fracturing mirror;

The bells ring threateningly impassable path collapse.

I exist on thick stratus clouds obsidian laps,

Laughing mania maniacal teeth

At pitchforks and torches, flames and horses, mobs malicious.

I will offer you no retreats.

My existence radials from metaphors cores,

Signs of times unsublime; trumpets and seals,

Exsanguination moon and ashing sun tides,

At my manifestation surfacing riling rise!

You will find me where I am remote.

You will find me where I am cunning and silent.

You will seek me where I am circumspect.

Let me consider a while,In fracturing mirror;

The silence ripples out in wasp honey articulate,

Sickly sweets decaying desiccates.

I am lurking unholy gothics,

Under invocations ancient,

I am plague flesh fevered,

Howled slowly in spreading bleeding blacks.

I am reviled hearts in atavisms,

Abhorrence in hidden self harm hinderances.

Hidden in underneath’s, a human heart screams for ascent,

A new creation, a new monster, a new confluence.

Judge me, O Efreeti, according to me…

Dying off into a terrified…wisping…whimpering…whispers

© Leila Samarrai

Photo Credit: The False Mirror, 1928 by Rene Magritte

Inevitable / Quote

Resurrection

Down beneath a mud murkiness tender,

Missing in onyx oleaginous waters,

In vanta void ball abolitions.

And every person deceased,
Docile, lamblike, disillusioned, despondent.

Peremptory imperious faced,
But endless now…

In my wake, the abyssal gape.

Stumbling chairs, mirror maws,

Dirty laundry, curdling milk,

Four walled fever sweats,

All around the emptiness is exhausted from hungry.

The room traverses,

The furniture languid fluxes in entropies rot,

The floorboards long and wet warble sickly.

Everything moves in the room:
Sludge slithers and masks motion,

Tripping and torsions, stumbling forwards,
Heaving sighs franchise freeing.

Innocent lunatics from the store,
Then they bore…humiliation.
The bleeding blot in tumoured brains,

Thrumming veins,

Pupils as wide a molten medal.

With amorous avarice glance fervently,

Narcissus drew the shores deservedly,

The burning lake bares down relentlessly,

Eternal remorseful of self pity.

Sisyphus, earned that stone,
Emerged a hundred years ago,
Dead, they penetrated deep towards the core.

Loophole to existential exploit,

Exposition of dichotomous discourse.

Returns in cyclical Sisyphean elope,

Tartarian villainy extinguishes all hope.

Detonating varmints vehemence from subtext,

Entropy erupted, finished and enervated,

All gravity discarded,

All packages disregarded.

Phoenix egged burnt lucency of Zion,

Hovering sounds moaned intoned as each dead fell,

Failings fall, shiver and dead rise faltering,

Dilly-dallying zephyr riles,

The gale gusts in undulations maddeningly.

Of those who’ve died, exhausted beyond insightful;

In blood crawled belaboured flame,

The throes of dying around the infinity of the crucified.

IR – Nail, skull-shaped hill sanguinary adytum infinities,

Staples screws hairpins for twisted banditry,

Judas dips faithless betrayal at Church tables,

Fish sauce fouled by the damnable falsity.

Fire steel breathes listens reverberation,

Onion layered stars laugh at us in the halogens’,
In the boulevards of burnt women, Neptune erupts.

Dorian Gray recording Faustian in frame,

Hedonistic beauty with no refrain,

The stain of life cannot be contained,

The portrait portrays portents of every sin.

I arise from tenebrous dead depths,

Candle flickers loping limping legion of devils,

(The diablocojuelo).
Outcry groans moans, in the half-light;

“Lazarus, come forth.”

The wake in terrible miserable ache,

Heaven is snatched away,

Exclamations of “Why Lord!” echo in the horror,

Sylvia Plath enters heated caves and Virginia Wolfe gathers stones.

Effort to effected cause willed power,

Effect to instructed methodized procedure,

Frankensteined to abhorrent complete,

And finally, a stake to vampiric heart.

Deadly health loans and lonesome lighthouses,

Forced union voluntary spacing,

And calling wiling witnesses.

The Renaissance is spent,

Lady Lazarus laments.

Faded Jerusalem is ruins,

Desert caravans careen to dust,

Siberian singers slough to slowing in brumal,

The Kentucky fiddling twangs into splinters,

The revelation of reasons loss.

Illusions project, abject objectification bisect,

Logic languishes in the defects.

Blessed be you, sublimely unreasonable,
Among the reasonably riled retinue.

Resurrection on hellish loop, no replete,

Rapidly cycles repeats, no retreats.

The misery of waking wakes and new sickly dawns,

Stretching out past far beyonds.

Zombie Lazarus we, maintaining decency in decaying

And pushing stones, lime slimed hair and souls in nose, abominations rose,

Narcissus drowned long ago…in the beloved lake arms enfolds.

Photo Credit: Vincent Van Gogh “The Raising of Lazarus”

Author’s Note on “Resurrection 2”

we live in the eternal Sisyphus loop of rediscovering our own stone, in rooms where broken chairs stumble and people with a blind spot in their brains humiliate come out of the dungeons of consumerism, resurrecting again and again to preserve that little bit of humanity

the invitations of Jerusalem were spent
faded desert caravans
cold Siberian singers
Kentucky chickens died
I don’t know what happened to reason

we are all Zombie Lazarus in maintaining decency in moving and pushing stones, lime in hair and souls in nose … and other abominations.
Narcissus drowned long ago in a beloved lake.

illusions, projections… what could not be realized was dreamed up, what was objectively allowed was created.

effort to effort, will to will
method, procedure, instruction and effect
a quick penny and finally a stake

clean bill and dirty laundry,
poisonous milk conclusions
four walls and a bastard, all that fever
and all around, emptiness, is hungry, exhausted

deadly health loans and lighthouses
the only thing left of the renaissance
forced union-voluntary spacing

and calling witnesses

The Existence Of Reality

Introduction

The guillotine would have fallen,

But for rusting cloying chains, 

Another patron complained,

That his head still remained,

Atop shoulders of existential dread.

Others amongst the rabble more fortuitous; 

“The lucky reduction of torment.”

(from an unknown author, exasperated, vexed, perplexed).

The crowd cries for her crucifixion,

“Disappear” they jeer!

A woman who’s not here,

(head falls into the basket, the audience cheers).

1
I am huddled in my bed,

Covered toe-to-head,

In emerald ash borer beetles of psyche keeps me company.

Pollution profanation, omnipresent,

Aqua sodden douse, bedraggled universal,

Psychotic scorpion flies erupting ubiquitously,

The material reduction deluge inescapable.

2
Divinity, hear me (says another poet):

I surrender essence to amaurotic amore ecstasy,

To abet fiendish fell experiments on sapiens,

To be your fourth Anti-Christ!

“What do you want?” sighs the daemon.

Hail sweet malice!

These foul malignant mortals need eternal silencing in pyre!

There are flickering color-storms remote from my tormented sights,

The head rises once more,

The skull also ascends.

For now in the gloaming unlight,

I am going mad, by blessing of the cataclysmic midnight. …Bollocks.

Unsought objectionable, 

Undesired detestable, 

Unwelcome unworthy, 

Rejected dejected, 

Shun spurned, bitch-slapped and friendless.

With heart alone and solus, I cared not.

Now has begun my transition!

You’ll find pleasure through tribulations,

In shudder burning water rat-a-tat, stately in flames.

We are the womb, we are the abyss,

 We are the tomb, we are exhumed,

We are the vault, torch lit,

We are the crematorium, pyre pit,

We are the womb, we are the abyss,

We are the mausoleum, crypt kissed.

I submit my ethereal dream divine;

Of a destitute penury district,

I tender the beggar’s beautiful equipment;

Ragged white tights with black polka dots,

One solitary garbage bag, and a lonesome money can.

I offer you the saint who lived as a beggar,

Vagabonds solemnise humanity spitting on mankind,

Commodity and chattels, filthy rags of vagrants maligned.

3
O Nature, made of mercury,

Eternal enigmatic, aloof abstruse, arcane unfathomable.

You are clement, you are brumal, you are arid, you are sultry…

Whose end…is God.

Vomiting, retched out slimy bodies from my voice box,

Grim re-echoes in the dark,

Holding failed wigs in despondent hands,

And the humored rats whose presence is forgotten.

For the corpses do not die,

For the damned do not die,

For they do not die, from The Iliad to Civid19…

Wait!

Am I not also corpsed stillness for your eternal mortuary arts?!

4
I am huddled in my sarcophagus soliloquy,

Sheets stand upright,

Suffused with semen, pullulate and sprout,

Spread to muscles devout,

Tissue, blush, luxurious cheek,

Oculi’s a glow in the din!

Hands traverse the glacial keening gale,

Bellend, I, wandered worlds and clapped my hands.

Only whispers, then wheezing, then wailing, then sobbing, then shrieking…

Then the dogs begin to howl…

This fell monstrosity everlasting,

This abhorrence is undying,

This vulgarity villain is eternal!

Carry me.

Carry me whither to, the existence of reality.

(grave bursting)

Schizophrenic brother in need

Never again alone we bleed.

Photo Credit:

Vigilante (Divine Mercy Chaplet)

INTRO: Execution

The guillotine would fall, but
The chain was rusty
Another client complained
That his head was still on his shoulders
Others had more luck
It’s called happy shortening of torment

They wish she could disappear,
A Woman Who’s Not Here
(head falls to the basket. the audience cheers)

---

DIVINE MERCY CHAPLET:

If I surrender my being to you in blind ecstasy of love,
If I’m yours assistant in your sadistic experiments over humans
if I was your fourth antichrist….

There are some flickering colours
gouged from my tormented ears
The head is rising again.
The skull also rises.
(For now in the dark I went mad, by blessing of the night.)

What a man desires to live more
With heart alone, I cared not.
Now has begun my transition!

You’ll find the pleasure through tribulation
in shudder burning water rat – a – tat stately in flames
We are the womb, we are the abyss, we are the tomb we are exhume
We are the womb, we are the abyss

I offer you my divine dream
inside of it is just a poor neighbourhood
I offer you the beggar’s beauty equipment
ragged white tights with black polka dots

I offer you the saint who lived as a beggar
beggars celebrate humanity
spitting on a man

IGNE NATURA RENOVATUR INTEGRA

You Nature, you made of mercury
You are never visible
Yet you are warm you are cold, you are dry
You are moist

Whose end is god

It took me ten years to vomit slimy bodies from my voice box
The rest are grim reechoes in the dark, holding my failed wig
in the made up hands

along with the humoured rats which presence is forgotten

For the damned do not die
Rejoice, we are Gods
maddened jumped out of the dark

I pass through world and clap my hands,
spin and dance in the graveyard.
I sit on a stool and with smooth moves of my fingertips

I touch the masonite.

Then only a whisper is heard and that wheezing,
the crying, wailing.
The dog begins to howl.

Bastard never dies

My tears after awakening
Are crocodile dung
Tears soaked in bathtub

The smelly bath
In the embrace of blindness
high ceilings, the pendulum
cuts

Vigilance interrupts an idyllic life in a nightmare
I am a cosmopolitan widespread disease
The urn with the hairs of my cat is on the edge of the table

Carry me
Carry me there.. to
the existence of reality.
(grave bursting)

HERE A NEW SIGHT VIGILANTE’S HOPES UPRAISED:

I AM the verse without fresh air
my irritated imagination
my twinkling lights
good-looking to be sniffed at
The intermitent the appalling pictures…

My schizoid brother in need
We will never be alone, again

the end of silence

climax
socks under sandals
holes below
pork rinds
shiny bare heels
Take that to your goddamn death
where you so disgraced us
when so trips over her damn shoe cousin
ascends to dark
between toilet and scaffolding
it couldn’t, it couldn’t be anymore
there in the pigeon feathers

from massive fat steaks
dense ground clusters
sparkling in the shadow of the warehouse
for medical waste
well sprinkled with rust of iron bones
under the window sill, balcony
from which the Crown Prince’s worm will be processed
Verklaa war on
the beginning of the stench and the end of silence

The Clock

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