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

After the crime

The gun is not pointed at, my head.
‘Give me money!’
is not a pit of snakes slithering in and biting me,
crawling in my skin,
not the place where plants breathe in fear.
I enginely dug in my imagination,
looking for shelter with my fright-filled eye.

Every foot will assemble then.
Dancers in circles joining hands and
dancing with hands up high.
A dance of small, spotless steps,
slowly, in circles, while people join in
and swell it.

Forced, wicked foreign letters,
to create cloudy thoughts, mirage memories,
dumb definitions! Someone likens me to a monkey!
This is someone forcing a finger into the joke,
poking where he doesn’t belong,
mixing in ups-and-downs, pictures, prints
threatening riddles with mysteries.

They…they carry something within them…
in front of the church!
This is symbolism, all of this clowning around,
this dress, all of this is wrong,
where, where are you taking me…
what black cat is this?!

Off the record – I am scared of my poetic responses

I’m an engaged woman
one that’s still necking with sky
I skip the fence, these are the bunches of bushes
these are the lengths of the backbone
(Does the soul have urges and gut?)
I’m scared of my poetic responses

I am hungry by being an everlasting land
I seduce the heavens so that I am an ungodly land
I’m a never-ending land in the collapse
I am scared of my poetic responses

I am the obsolete woman
I’m alone communicated thought obsolete for men
a thunderously conclusive readjustment of
their theoretically unproven
life sentences
of hopelessness self dependency’s.
I’m scared of my poetic responses

For close 40 years, I (t) funnelled
all of my Shawshank Redemptive experiences
within my poetic mode of hopefully
escaping under every watching eye’s noses
I am scared..
I’m transgressed, woman!

I wrote all the years to stay alive
and now after I decided it was time
for my own retrial
Unheard of mirrors.
the souls’ pricelessness by looking into
the windows once self-indulgent magnitudally
lost moment in time

while receiving the rescues within distances
ever-changing madness itself
fills the sky with visions and gold
with virgin gardens and springs
fills it with our little unimportant amours.

.. am not…

Now, when our eyes look through the lens of
the Hubble telescope, it’s pretty clear.
we’re still gravitating towards the ground.

.. scared…

And off the record
One fish was caught today
A Sunfish

Author’s note:
A Sunfish
Ironically symbolic of something in other’s words throughout history has never been able to catch its essence of beauty’s ability to lose the meaning of if looked at too intensely for its true meaning yet give sight to its secrets hidden at a glance

© Leila Samarrai Mehdi