Injury – Justice


“If an injury has to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”- Niccolo Machiavelli
Vengeful fate, weave a new web
For the one you hunt them with now is much too small
THEN Chase them onto the Dreadful coasts
The Deal is signed
And the Mission given
Into the hands of the Jib!
Go hard on the Hunchback until the Heat and the Thirst
Of the Villains
Drink my vendetta up.
(The Mind is entranced by fire
(Burning, burning in the wild flames of ruthless might!)
May even the Terror of the heavens itself with its cruel hand not make
The mortals quiver, disgustingly silent in this race
Blood-hued
Just like my hand drenched in anger will harrow these throats
Of theirs
Until they whine a hopeless whine:
„Mercy!“
Hear ye:
A Wound of anguish lies
A foot drenched in blood
And a Heart on fire.

A Poem About a Crocodile


In the dreadful crocodile land

Something odd is always at hand
Quickly, swift, a non-stop jerk
Is this bold dragons’ constant smirk

They’re strongest with bellies filled
Drunk on blood of men they’ve killed
Out of Nile’s vast delta here
Three dreaded crocs did appear

Through an Adriatic slit
Two more whales came, via Split.
Two Siberian beasts more
Reared out of Mulyanka’s shore

From Mulyanka of Perm Krai
Russian, then Italian sky
Crocs their freedom do not lack
Down the Sava-Danube track

Gathered ‘low a bridge’s bend
Suicidals near their end
These beasts roam about the town
One fierce bite has me pinned down

As they swim and float around
Pin-like their eyes I have found
Meaty prey sniffed by their noses
Sharp-toothed jaw said prey encloses

I’ve a deal with them worthwhile
Cro co do co lo do rile
May their trio boldly hop
And on horny scuta drop

May blood-showers flow like ale
Lubricating our scales
One life but one Euro’s worth
Our words but empty pits

Hollow caves our stomachs sit
More cash for twos we commit
I’ve a deal with them worthwhile

Cro co do co lo do rile

Down their shoulders I descend
Embracing them with my arms
My tummy is going nuts
Hunger dancing in my guts

Already they’re set to drop
Already by waves they’re called
Why waste thought? Use this dilemma
To toss this human Kinema

To the current evergoing
Hell-way they gave, full well knowing,
Dreams that they had all perceived
It’s quite gruesome, this whole plot

Now life has it, then has not
What does my arm small and lean
Embracing their waistlines mean
Even killers feel depressed

Post doing what they do best
I meandered into titles
Which I find to be mere trifle
But who’s bloody all the while

Moreso than a crocodile
Who will pay the deal enisled
Other than the crocodile
Watch thyself oh murderer

Suitable and pick-of-litter
Are cutwaters none the fitter,
Windshields and the lightning rods
Are but desperate roughneck sods

And their circle-natured days
As they float livid and dreamy
One drunk sailor, brave and scheme-y,
Swims across the river’s dirt

Two oars tied around his skirt
Sings away the filthy Beast
Bathed in the light of East
With a fiery yelling slope

Right then he sang: “I give hope.”
Golden wings upon his back.
My deal is rendered futile
From my present crocodile.

Come another chilling morrow
I will seek a new tomorrow
Past the bridge and midst of branches
Where tangles a wrinkly road

Rage about my gold grows hot
Which I withdrew from the slots
This strange body, livid, frail
Chisels open this whole pail

Living dead man lets out shrieks
Mercy is what this one seeks
We vomited from the bridges
Till at twilight what we knew

Was a perfect scenic view
One whole city at our palms.
Belgrade cracks before our eyes
Statue-shadowed, it’s alight

Eternal is this vignette
Of a fiery townsman’stête
Under Victor’s statuette.
Our deal, though, is most worthwhile

Ro co do co cro co file

Gentle mom frightens her child
With a carcass most reviled
They rend those who cannot swim
New age jumpers, wretches dim

Slime and lees the water sweeps
One life, joyless, Death doth reap
In the slimy croc-filled dip
The beast took my blood’s turbid sip

One black freckle graced my leg
Their three lids are snow-filled kegs
Two icicles slipped mid-stream
From agape, cold Nile, it seemed

Wherein formed an iceberg vast
Empty trash can, of crocs past
Wicked that have fled erstwhile
No more delta formed by Nile

All its force now in exile
Emigrants on nightly mission
Clatter on with sharp dentitions
And their bodies slither slow

Pays up, then comes to me quick
To get my whole body licked
There’s no flight, no submarines
Nemo quisquam captain-like

Nor a sailor, one whose looks
Dwell in Jules Verne’s famous book
Nor hope in the light of day
Which mid-hearts doth lives and stays

While we were so full, nubile
Prior to the crocodiles…
Prior to the crocodiles…

Cap’tayneNemo, come to us
Up close comes the Nautilus
Maybe there is hope, I chime
To engender a new rhyme

And while beasts all roar and flail
Let’s elope towards a new tale

Do come closer, do come closer
Worry not, worry not
You are but a child, you are
Squeal and weep and spew some snot

Even though a child you’re not
Trudge, step all over the valley
For your shepherd follows by
Should I try and throw the die?

But, that number falsify
For the croc doubts aught and low
Taken by his mighty stench
That the killer up and went

Boat amid the night blood fled
With it filled the riverbed
And exchanged the Euric lead
Guate’s cute asylum spiel

Now I must break our deal
Cro co do co lo do reel
(Cò?)
Do co cro co ro do KILL!

quote-the-creatures-outside-looked-from-pig-to-man-and-from-man-to-pig-and-from-pig-to-man-again-but-george-orwell-308922

 

Don’t miss my poem published by The Woman Inc. magazine!


https://www.facebook.com/thewomaninc/

 

A compelling rape poem from Serbia.

***

So I mature like a corpse flower
My pulchritudinous petals reach up for light
And they come to me like flies to rotting meat.

This is the world of lies
Of thirsty angels who die
While still appearing angelic
They’ve lost their shine

Have you ever been raped?
You should join me like a vampire
You’ll be bitten for a limitless life
For a never ending night of screeching sodomy…

***

Read more: https://thewomaninc.com/2017/03/31/rape-poem/

 

 

You love me in this dress


You love me in this dress
and you don’t see my full lips nor a shirt wherein my breasts seem safer
neither eyes but a moment before succumbing
you love me in this dress
and you don’t see my bleary-eyed and yellow gaunt face
neither pieces of broken statue or pieces of paper scattered around…
you are not wonder – struck with my scream nor with my attempt to get you to escape

I am taking it off tieing it around my waist
my movements are alternately feminine and rough
I love being a woman because my body moves to the beat of music more easily
but my boyish view that you don’t see slaps the spirits of the past
frozen on the other side…
still immersed in the coloring of the unfinished image

You would do anything for me when I’m in this dress, don’t you?
don’t you see I’m naked, pursued and burned?
don’t you see my old clothes
in the blemished closet loaded with garments as barrel shotguns
a talking picture has turned into a point..
in the background was a poorly dressed wake-up call.

You love me in this dress
perhaps I could remember and arrange any piece for you.
Maybe cabaret.
Maybe to play it in a new dress?

dress

The odds are back!


Don’t miss my poem “Are You Mad, Ovid” published in the pro-resistance and anti-douche issue14 The Odd Magazine https://www.facebook.com/oddzine

You can read my poem here: https://theoddmagazine.wixsite.com/oddity14/odd-shorts

The odds are back!

avLeila Samarrai uses absurdist and the elements of farce in her plays. She favors surreal short stories, horror fiction, satire and humoresque, enjoying the vaudeville style of structure interwoven with the style of “Pythonesque” stories. She has had her work published in numerous local magazines, both in print and electronic form and been variously awarded. She currently lives in Belgrade with her five cats.

Kitty Kisses, to my beloved tomcat Spartacus


.12605331_173741199648543_3422781219120191768_oFluffy, curly-headed, looney ball!
He jumps upward and bounces off the walls.
Thwack! (Kerplunk)
Then he curls up, snoring in his sleep.
(Huuuuuuuhh. guhrrrrrrr huuuu grrrr grrrgrrr…..siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…)
He is such a such a noble cat!

Sometimes I call him Gerard Erickson.
Sometimes I call him Sanders Pennington.
He speaks, cat, dog, human:
‘Tomcat, are you going to eat the dog’s leg, perhaps? ‘ (rub, rub, up-tail)
‘Sspurr -ior! But.. I would paw – fer beef steak.’
(Huuuuuuuhh. guhrrrrrrr huuuu grrrrr)
‘Are the chicken wings too bad for you? ‘
(blglglblglllgbbblglblgllbgglgllghghghghh)
A roasted mouse in the microwave?
‘Disa-purr-! , slave! ”
(P – KIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHHH! ! !)

Before that, scratch my elevator – butt!
Then he turns, in Dead Mousie pose, and clumsily mumbles orders:
‘Open My door’
‘Close My Window’
‘No, do some ‘Prairie-Doggin”!
‘Do some Cat – Dance! ‘
Both left feet moving
Then
Both right feet moving
‘Walk like a cat, you, clumsy camel!
Think like a cat!
More kitty – like! That’s it.
More kitty – like.
More more cattitude!
You have no style, let’s get you to ballet! ‘
He sings soprano (Mrrrowwww. Mrrowwww. mrrrrrowwwww.)

‘Merry Meow Birthday, my Batler, where are you?
Happy Meow, too you, too!
Fetch me my slippers!
Pass on my reading glasses!
I have to get my higher degree.
Heeeeeeere kittykitttykittikitttykitty!
Heeeeeeere kittykitttykittikitttykitty!
Heeeeeeere kittykitttykittikitttykitty!
Go kitty! …Off’

Winding Up
Digging In
Revving Up
Once he is in his cat – cradle
I am telling him tales to his fluffy tail
He is my, fur real, Claw-some friend
He is my dearest and purrrr-fect son
Arm to paw
Cheek to cheek
Heart to heart
Lips to muzzle (mwahhhh)
(Lub-dub…lubdub….lub-dub… Lubdub….)