I will kill the chickens if the roses don’t stop them


Lyrics belong to everyone

Not even by escaping can you avoid her heaviness

So do not rush to anywhere

Do not feel the abdomen of the dark with your fingers

 

Somebody will die during the first twilight

And I will write about comets

Deprive the bread in your hands

And prepare the ploughed land

For the dead of rosy lips to breathe

 

Sleep peacefully

I will counterfeit whatever is necessary

I will kill the chickens if the roses don’t stop them

 

You find those who accused us

There will be time for me to tell you


There will be time for me to tell you

Will the words spin tomorrow as well

And will the essence be the thread

 

Stooped candelabrums stalk me

Between yearning and fear

Between passion and constancy

Always present while you sleep restlessly

There where the beginnings end

 

Solitude too has been captured, moulded and limited

And her contents gnawed off in the tempest

Where the beginning and the end meet

Each full moon

Tarot Reading Poem (Villain and his Mistress)


In giving judgment against us,
hear us with patience
Beneficence,
would you be mine villain within
the affrighted sun,
ye that sees the light.
that we may inquire our youthful sabre,
but please behold you silver Zion,
once, adulteresses’I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed,
I whisper murder and your name on my lips.

Fires of the wave veiling the horizon,
they lifted to the sounding goblet,
effaced letter engraved:
JUDGEMENT court le monde Primitif.
Shame clings to murderers!
(Sound of poker and gambling, shuffling and dealing)
…let the rustling tower be near.
Red be the tint of streams,
but vanity is thy wish
seeming to pass through a vale of tears.
(The sound of Klazomania)!
Behold, king of backstabbing spears will be the sentinel of tarot pack!

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed
I whisper murder and your name on my lips.

Red traveller’s night assails
there unceasing lord of day reigns,
eclipsed adieu
to live with unheeded snare.
That to pterosaurlike maids
trying to prostitute me through
la Isla Bermeja, The Lost Island

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed
I whisper murder and your name on my lips.

The foe came forth my dark bosomed ship
to cheer my carrion to waves and roars.
The friend’s ghost long for an equal fame
stridulous trinkets made by dark javelins
the milestone of distance from –
O slanderers of Rahab!
So careful is thy harlot, and anxious to last.
It will suck your blood until your guilt cries out.
Clairvoyance said, scratching out a rising Arcana:

I have seen the dead,
I have seen the deed,
I whisper murder and your name on my lips.
Its claws on my back!

O .. o .. OOO, Bloody!


Quite passionate, a tour de force.
As early as the first, then the second paragraph to
expand upon,
to provide arguments
to the qualification, you laid… laid out, oh dear, determined losing myself
… In the title, yeah, said the word,
IN THE TITLE!
in the upside-down text
hung on an imaginary hook
I scream at my bosses flats, mouths open on
O.. o.. OOO, Bloody!

Conductors in the brain are burned out,
dendrites massacred like the Persians at the Marathon.
Pyramidal layers of nerve cells grow out
into the burning pyramid burned by smoke,
they want out Out of my head, go home to your Egypt.
The top of the pyramid punctured my forehead,
and I stuck to Lucifer,
and the last broken eagle-eyed, neuron,
as the last Mohican to run from the wolf’s burrow
with one dizzy flip, noise, noise, delirium, explosion.
My head is empty and my eyes bleed to death.
Since then, I have visions that I do not share with the honest world.

I, Princess Ciniska of Sparta,
the first woman to win the ancient Olympics,
if I have to tell you all about myself,
I met the god Pan, who, seeing me
as gigantic, angry and powerful, got a panic attack.
and I proceeded westward to Athens…
to things whips out from the wall, grabs your head
and re-arranges your brain, right?
with three jaws three scissors and three knives

Didn’t you see that they slapped me?
They… within the shadows..!
All I have to do is tell you that the next phase,
before my final and inexorable arrest,
is to throw my feet in the moonlight.

For I saw the sky that was pouring out the rain of damnation
While green blind dogs that have bitten off all the earth
with balsamic muzzles   long the weeping path
I saw I saw I saw, and I fell dead
The land god made in anger,
seal bones that once littered the shore
of the shipwrecks caught by offshore rocks

Turning your torture into a nest!


Turning your torture into a nest!
Oh, yes, we are separate worlds
(Always do the same
and Janus, you bastard!)
And this is what draws me,
from Hell or Paradise, is it?

 

Passion, now taste your deception!
Nemesis, crossing paths,
in the beginning, warming warriors
to be broken into rocks.

 

And you see the different times
when I saw before and now and future,
although, of these, only in time I saw one.

 

As I admire the setting sun,
I condemn two loves,
two different old mares.

 

I love the annoying elegance
of the knife inserted

 

Give it up, though!

 

The futility of such an
endeavour, Musketeer No. 2
(whose name I don’t even remember)

 

It’s obvious!

 

Late in your youth,
you lost your sensibility
and saw it only
as a technical mistake.

© Leila Samarrai
December 9th 2019, Belgrade

 

Editor: David Dvorak

Night and an open door


Night and an open door

Spook takes over my head
I see your eyes
Judgment hour – accurately measured moment burns away
I see your eyes
They do not belong to me alone

I threw my soul
Those are the irises of the breeze – yell the dark mirrors
Used up voices grow from blood
They knock over trees by crawling

You return
Roughly wetting the sanctity of my lips
I
Mute and stiff on the threshold
Bitten by the first pain
I spew snake venom

Those are perhaps the silence of your hate and my oblivion
In truth
Neither you, neither me, neither communion

Neither sailors
Left on the lost spectral shores
Neither the cry of ships in the night
Or is it a song of violent love

She is never left voiceless
Even when unheard