Odyssey (acca Memento Mori)

Hail, Odyssey
let your shadow be at peace
let you look for other valleys
for the river over which the wind
carries a sound between wedges and reeds
where the ancient rapture from the river waters
and the echo roars in them like glory


Odyssey, as your glory from time immemorial
you are stranger as she is and so futile
Find your great abducted unrest
as the divine threat lost on earth warns
of some tremendous creative consciousness
who starts chanting about mortal glory
and then consoling both you and me to death



On the trail of superhero

Untitled.jpgOn the trail of superhero

Life fuck you up and you become
the superhero
with a thousand names
and in the advanced madness stadium,
to keep from going mad you become
this incurable, violent madwoman.
tightened with strong belts, straight-jackets

you’ll know why scarecrows cross bridges
deep is the beauty of the sea, pressed by a flaming egg
who doesn’t believe this, let them dance with sea shells
you will know why the poet died quietly in the dictionary,
mourned by a prostitute
with the lunar nature of the infant
you’ll know why you’re drawn to the idea
to find the elixir of youth
it smells like faded, charcoal streaks of powder

when you meet your obsession
the wind whistles in ecstasy
and they all consider you crazy

This is your penchant for introspection,
your clumsy perfection,
as the body, so as the mind,
raciness, sharp mindedness

You will know why you were tortured by
that ghastly ventriloquist,
maddened you to death,
acting slowly like a poison
that got her hands on your mind.

As I was seeing a trace
of a female foot walking the room.
as I was hearing the roared hammers
of revenge.

It’s in the bathroom!
your intimacy with the book,
your belly and your thumbs
a character full of the future and a lovely mist
from a photographic angle, through stray worship

There is a huge difference
between being averse, not conquered,
shaded by the riddle
and uninvited mortals,
they sit at the bottom of the brainstem
they sit at a table set, they do not need the gifts of immortality

Elbowed on the round table they spun their swords, turning their heads sideways,
as to look at her better from all sides.
then upon the river shore, heavy cavalry and three hundred peasants with Excalibur stormed, and with the fangs…

…you licked your immortality
to inflammation of the tongue
you clutched the book, then gasp and gasp
you heard the audience dissatisfaction

There were all the booklets in memory
drafts of search in the freezing rain of transience
the trail ends in anti-painting
and it’s time to indulge in yourself
leaving the lone riders of the apocalypse


just written around midnight, inspired by Lara Croft
copyright by Leila Samarai, ©Belgrade, Serbia, 2019

Immortality Horse Legend

Everything lasts in shades long-buried
the poisonous lore is planted
on a perilous path
lies in daily life, a petal with red remorse
looks fair
And a thought bereft and a spring
On every floure and hue; and tomb to restAnd on Beneficence, made of milk and honey
for the bones to give birth to bees
all virtue will blossom to tune,
and the story goes
of the eyes, breath and arms,
of gallant shields and warriors breasts
of the inglorious creature seething with glore
which erstwhile befall your offspring’s world
within its ample grasp

And I took а hаndful of howling wind
and from it formed the winged horse
glittering through the pure ether
saying: I create, thee wings of the clashing winds
still in the verdure of the desert,
to fly off quickly from every skull:
to a company of robbers, circling around
impetuous as eagles,
to assemble their forces at night’s dust
the relics die weeping
from whom the stream of legend came.

And then the story goes forth more
of even longer glittering spears
of the flying horse a friendly foe
indescribably excruciating version of the East.
fed by the tears of mouldering clay

It is a dream of immortality
sabre in god frequency.
wild horses in my rosy lips wine
gallop to the foe, dripping blood
to sweep it and woo with evil cries
in the aftermath, I lay in water cold
while bath my cup in the land of worms

©Leila Samarrai

in the quietest valley of the bitter courage

I blossom in the valley of bitter
the rotting tooth

funeral good words in the coffin
On shovel!

galloping nonsense
talking about the menacing forms of the Day
longing – cosmic hazards
encompassing – continent-continents

with your thumb in your mouth
big baby
suck up a gold dump
through a snooze.
a humanist angelic song,
cross and neck rope
Pilate, don’t prolong the debate
even though your hands are sweating.
On a basin! And the towels!

Ah, deity! extend the nectar expiration,
honey and thirst.
as an impostor Godot
at the time of my euphoria,
the shackles of the more serious things
steal time behind Beethoven’s scenes
by the way,
I have a long, bearded beard.

The time foretold – I look not like reality,
but rather
the citizens of Calais’  nightmares crusaders
(France, habitat!)
Pontius, you boiling cattle, my fault has erupted
hotter than the Titanic glacier’s
swollen kidney dipped in self-love
try to steal a drop of water from the Source
(Incidents are side)
I’m stealing blasphemes against the wooden bastard
tattletale me to the Gods who performed me