Is it applicable also to stone?


Behold! Should you not dying, live;and living;die.

.. from the veil outward…

Ornaments and objects

A shrine to

Malleable walls

Cave jewelry

The falling through

The respiration by spilled images

Blazed with the day

In which I drowned

My inner Bishop

Bring back the change

Merely muffled roars and groans

In time.

You sing that song

Don’t…

Read that song.

That same stupid song

For the last three decades

This song you sing every morning

Where’s the song you’re gonna sing?

As the Deep is going down

Dive

You plunge into maelstrom of

Recycled paper

I saw, I felt, I sank

You got tased

You experienced extensive

Art production.

Surrender, fighgting and fighting  surrender

Is it applicable also to stone?

Ah I hate when liquid rock

Dips like that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Requiem for a mosquito, may your spirit rest upon these toxic fumes


1

I love your milk colour, nearby madhouse,
I love your fatuum traitors cry,
To Now or Once, to hellholes or sneak thieves
Which summons the harlots of Time.

Pull the drains, sewer bunnies.
may your spirit rest upon these toxic fumes,
I love your shiny little bumps, your aggro,
Simply… I love your shaft.

The Belgrade on Krnjača*
screwed up its sewage line to
contaminate the crime scene.
with raw sewage.

The Wraith will come dragged along the floor
Belgrade, you are an asylum in the open river
while sailing on a burning duvet

2

To Kunst for homeless god
to Happiness and vindictive mosquitoes
to calls of local bar hopping slut.
and fine Sers missing communal apartment.

Spraying for mosquitoes!
are you my executioner?
you’ve disarmed the vengeful mosquitos
itching
cursing
a short-tempered star
a lightning strike
frost in dictionary

And soon.. all these years
seem just like a blink
of the bite.. inseminated…
earthquake!

Don’ t get nervous phantom of the
birthplace shores.

Requiem for a mosquito
and soon, your music shall come,
some slacker roadkill shall come,
plastic heart shall soak it all in.

Like ammonium nitrate…
3
To add mincemeat out of the filthy Ser
mix mixture carefully into medicinal
soup
For Hannibal.

Poke and doodle
In the pokey, up to the rectum river,
then
plant yourself like a squatter

And… put some ice in the urinals.

 

*Krnjača (Serbian CyrillicКрњачаpronounced [kř̩ɲat͡ʃa]) is an urban neighborhood of Belgrade, the capital of Serbia. It is located in Belgrade’s municipality of Palilula. (source: Wikipedia)

Thank you Ephemeral Elegies magazine for your recognition and your professionalism


Sappho wrote Confessional poetry, Augustine wrote Confessions, Wittman spoke of himself, but when it comes to poetic personal storytelling, then one thinks of confessional American poetry in the 1960s (Plath, Sexton, from the position of woman and the second wave of feminism) because psychological psychoanalysis is much more pronounced in confessional poets than in their aforementioned predecessors.
This is a very interesting topic indeed and like all poets, I do not like my work to be moulded and read in a biographical key because my poetry does not renounce universality for speaking of the most intimate truths and existential states – it has an archetypal model.
I don’t consider myself a confessional poet, but in this poem, I spoke emphatically about intimate truths, and I’m glad Ephemeral Elegies magazine recognized it and decided to publish my poem live on their site now:

https://ephemeralelegies.com/2020/01/21/1976s-laughing-little-girl-swinging-high-on-outdoor-swing-by-leila-samarrai/

 

 

 

Goodbye soldier, farewell sword


Horses no longer want to ride you
nor to spur your flame.
Goodbye… never again…
from your blood, bird calls.
Goodbye soldier, farewell sword!
A beaten, spontaneous spectre,
my old robber devoured with time,
I’ve devoured time,
deeper, each tick of time I look
at the earth’s height
and her endlessly round flight path.

In The Balovale’s tribes mausoleum (of human history od living and dying)


 

Airily at a fragrance-oozing garden                                         a gem-beautified tree leaving a peg of bright white wood

 

Thrilled hand sculpting faces to add to                           by the garden

 

With midsummer rose petals of                                         Venusian Red by the sides floor-strewn in rows

 

 

Too holy to pray                                                                      my eyes looked at the firmament’s high girdle

 

to dive in seclusion into light

 

 

It’ll just be one great summer of red tea

 

and I shall disrobe myself before nature                          and taste of love

 

hear the cortege the flutes and the                                    tambourines

perceived in the wind

 

Entombed beneath the mountains of Himalayas seclusion

 

In The Balovale’s tribes mausoleum

 

where it always smells like greasy secretion

 

during circumcision, an ancient torture for babies

 

 

From ancient precursor to what we call warfare

 

Since Ilyad then Tiberius’ Holocene and the charge of the light brigade

 

were terrifying, inglorious flash which had souls charred to ashes,

 

the blood kept coming from knife-stabbed bodies

 

Blades cut palms from the palm-trees for

 

a chant for selfish prayer of the wildest Brutuses

 

Richards, with all the Henries in between

 

leader, a sociopath in the house of roses

 

to clothe himself in war to taste of blood by fire

 

 

Gold glorified in greed have baited the kings

 

to close their eyes

 

and descend into apathy’s underworld

 

This has to be the end

of attending to gloom

 

Attention, my soul, do not leave your gaiety’s sun unattended.

 

 

I am not some face boiling if you stretch out

like a kid, your tongue at me

 

Here is my skin thick to stand

jackals from your lips                                                                                                                                                                                          handsome replica

 

appliance  is for the sake of ameliorative mankind

 

living with love in my blood is enlivening,

 

living tenderly in the silence..

 

No decay will devour my summers’ bloom

 

Actually, the sun in its beams of glory

will resurrect midsummer dreams

 

 

I want to see you, you… morning house

You, dewy face

You, flowery eye

 

In fact, when I take off this night gown

like a daughter in obedience

 

 

A garden secure,

pleases me with the fragrance, that faylike spell

 

 

myself, I’m a mystic

who seeks the Heavenly

 

I should walk alone with a silent head

to a secluded wood

and dive into darkness

to rise up into light

 

Editor: Obinna Eruchie, https://allpoetry.com/Obinnex

 

Requiem for a mosquito, poetry recital


https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2019/06/09/requiem-for-a-mosquito-may-your-spirit-rest-upon-these-toxic-fumes/

Requiem for a mosquito, may your spirit rest upon these toxic fumes

 

1

I love your milk colour, nearby madhouse,
I love your fatuum traitors cry,
To Now or Once, to hellholes or sneak thieves
Which summons the harlots of Time.

Pull the drains, sewer bunnies.
may your spirit rest upon these toxic fumes,
I love your shiny little bumps, your aggro,
Simply… I love your shaft.

The Belgrade on Krnjača*
screwed up its sewage line to
contaminate the crime scene.
with raw sewage.

The Wraith will come dragged along the floor
Belgrade, you are an asylum in the open river
while sailing on a burning duvet

2

To Kunst for homeless god
to Happiness and vindictive mosquitoes
to calls of local bar hopping slut.
and fine Sers missing communal apartment.

Spraying for mosquitoes!
are you my executioner?
you’ve disarmed the vengeful mosquitos
itching
cursing
a short-tempered star
a lightning strike
frost in dictionary

And soon.. all these years
seem just like a blink
of the bite.. inseminated…
earthquake!

Don’ t get nervous phantom of the
birthplace shores.

Requiem for a mosquito
and soon, your music shall come,
some slacker roadkill shall come,
plastic heart shall soak it all in.

Like ammonium nitrate…
3
To add mincemeat out of the filthy Ser
mix mixture carefully into medicinal
soup
For Hannibal.

Poke and doodle
In the pokey, up to the rectum river,
then
plant yourself like a squatter

And… put some ice in the urinals.

 

*Krnjača (Serbian CyrillicКрњачаpronounced [kř̩ɲat͡ʃa]) is an urban neighborhood of Belgrade, the capital of Serbia. It is located in Belgrade’s municipality of Palilula. (source: Wikipedia)