Revelation Irish Woman

It hurts
being clothed with the moon

As that woman about to give birth
in front of the dragon

particular misshapen fruit
dealt the powerful blow of a knife, in the chest

to devoted insanities grotesque
call

In pain
I am in pain in the dark places pain, paints still water with spit of the fire

To the blade that was laid in the carved bone, an altar
an ancient image of divinity

will it speak the tongue of bones tonight.

Revelation Irish Woman
Her head peeked beyond
all the towers
countless
spirals painted
Of herself
in the center of a microcosm
An all-encompassing universality of nature

a role model
for the human monstrous role, I am now in the performed, now

y – axis whirl moving of the let – ergo going to nothing

My look at the city was one of prison
I

am here – behind bars.

This is a city
in

the middle of a prison.

Into the wilderness
as is a desolate
place

And full of serpents and scorpions

“travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered”

The forest unbathed
by an ocean of blood

An unhealed wound beneath
the hot navel

The unpierced rib in the deciding battle
A lonely nest

devoid of it’s Eagle.
from the clime of the blood roth

walking are the possible dragons
That salute, woman
over and over the infinite sea breasts!

And time stuffs the pieced
pierced belly

I am a beastly shrapnel
like a knife

ping of fadead stomach
as around as death, around me you

imagining me, dragon tail’s rise
My mortal body
of immortal progeny!

I summon the Heavens to bow
down to my tentacles

Folded into a clenched fist of Hades in the chains of the river euphoria!

Revelation Woman

It hurts being clothe with a moon

As that woman about to give birth in front of the dragon

particular misshapen fiend

deal a powerful blow,

with a knife in the chest,

and then to devote insane

and grotesque calls

in pain, when dark places paints still water with spit of the fire

The blade was laid in the carved bone

and the altar, an ancient image of divinity

will speak the tongue of bones tonight.

that.. Being.. Revelation woman..

Her head peeked beyond all countless spirals

painted much in the same manner,

that way putting herself in the center of microcosm

of all-encompassing universality of nature,

becoming a role model for human (it – with monstrous are performed now)

y – axis whirl moving of the let – ergo going into nothing

My look at the city was one of prison. I

am here – behind bars.

This is a city in the middle of a prison.

Into the wilderness as is a desolate place

And full of serpents and scorpions,

“travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered”

The forest unbathed by an ocean of blood

An unhealed wound beneath the hot navel

The unpierced rib in the deciding battle

A lonely nest devoid of it’s eagle.

from the clime of the blood

walking in possible dragons

salute the woman over the infinite sea breasts!

time stuffs the sincere belly

and eh the oh beastly shrapnel

itlike the sharp knife

ping of fadead stomach

as around as death around me you

imagining dragon tail’s rise

My mortal body with immortal progeny!

I summon the Heavens to bow down to my tentacles

Folded into a clenched fist!

Photo Credit: William Blake, The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun

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Endlessly burnishing wildflowers

Endlessly burnishing wildflowers
forgotten by splattered times

of bloodless slaughterer’s design.

Waking souls lulled to long days’ sleep,

forced to steal robbed dreams endlessly

till winter freezes them to sleep.

In effect cut short dreams harden

frightfully, the nights frightfully

seem as long as winter in length.

Frenzied paced yelling, to end put

lightning in its excited place

awakening death’s silent scream.

Immortalized storms are forming

under the bitten tongue, they then

secretively bloom shade with sense.

From hiding you to dodge the knife,

no choice with the merit for me

to have ‘tween green eyes and brown eyes.

Knighted enemies eye alone

like Kings of the Night, shimmered like

white foot soldiers woefully,

heroic scream of blue lightning

pride’s flashes animatedly,

whoosing beasts move to foil its growl.

Hollering his disenchantment

steadfastly pitted against his,

bows to the trek’s will’s end at peace.

As those viewed in deathly silence,

perched like prey’s birds on the hilltop,

will stand still in the dragon’s sound.

There is no realm of pure meaning today!

My God, dead, but yet quick!

Death in itselfand Words above the world – a burning bead,

a heated hollow and a cry of fear.

Photo Credit:”The Great Red Dragon and The Woman Clothed In the Sun”

Penny Dreadful

“I tried to pray that night and God didn’t answer
me, but another did.”

Rabisu demon lurking menacing at doors,
desert anguishes and roads of bone,
At bittered ends and vicious roaming form, in
the dust reeking reborn.
Pouncing lurid predator vampirically, sardonic
seizers in scorn,
And whispers: “I’m fascinated by your wicked
and lucid appetite for your own useless life.”

In lament from fluttering sent, leaps from
window eyed portals denied me,
And whispers: “Oh no, I will bare no escape
from existences framed refrain,
I choose you, beautifully lined face with
loneliness, losses and clutched crosses.”

I am placing maliciousness monsters in the
pillory, reaching hangman rivalry,
Oracle with filled eyes of abhorrent horrors, vile
villainy, disgusting revelry.
Malice madness in theatrics, harbouring hunts
of hauntedness in the gothicness.
My Morrigain, my Mora demoness of dark war
and warrior corpses,
She susurrous’s doom and washes the bloody
cloaks of the fallen soon,

My one way love affair with fated despair.

Cain in crestfallen, commits unforgivable sin
against spirit,
The demons converging, surrounding and
urging,
The innocent blood screams vengeance from
the ground purging.

Corpses long dead roar excavations
incarnations,
Incantations transfiguring graves,
Fierce golden reigns irony remains.
Nightmares veins surreal tentacles, tear tense
dreams from tight eyelids,
Fang drip foul viles in gnashing violence,
The grand bizarre at the feverished abhorrence
carnival,
The glassy eyed emptiness of brumal freak
shows.
I smell like sleepwalking, staggering, pale sober disheveled,
The freedom of hurtling heights bridge jumping
ecstatically,
Running wild like thrown matches at gasoline.

The beauty of illusion bleeding disappointingly,
The nightmare fits it’s grip in bellicose
whimpers,
The darkness of the grave takes you delicately,
The screamers sing in outbursts of enthusiasm ringing,
White satin nights in nocturnal delight flinging.
The elusive, unearthly apparition was ignored.
Sorcerer horror summoning hoarse voiced Bael
invisible,
King crowned sixty six with demon legions
indivisible.

I was born barefoot and harsh in conditioning,
Washing away wounds of violent love eternally.
Handsome insomniacs gently jumped on me,
With eyes blinking surrounding me the world
turns disgustingly,
Nauseating turns drunkenly in fits of death
shaming me.
I pull back pale, evil spirits rise with days
dawning.
In ditched depths collapse and grips his
darkened voice is hardening,

Galabiya and long scarfed Ahriman tilts his
head in unbearable laughter attacking:

“You’re anguished miseries past entertain me,
You’re fool hardy determinants sustain me.”

The dark figure covers his delusions in ghostly
fog,
Hiding the curves of mocking derisive smile
mischievous,
The deception of tethered feathered cheerful
and devil eyed,
Amused by this Sisyphean pilgrim prides to
conjure wild Ahriman.

Golden-mouthed perceptively moving, lucidly
mystical moving metaphysics assistant,
In a long fluttering dress stirring surfaces into
snaking molten lava,
Covering the corrugated cracks in Babylonian
sandstone liberally.

“Perhaps it has always been there,
This thing, this demon inside me.”

Perennially shifting wilding howling cognition,
Volition in furious fiction,
Feeling snarling snapping at my heels.

The fictions, projections creating
subconscious,
The evil eye and other Jinnah making iniquity,
One day all will be concluded in concussiveness.
Connecting extremes and insanity to
contextually,
Esoteric central core in magic cube of ancient
antiquity,
Following flowing pictures through dusked
indignities.
Through furtive white crosses fealty and it’s
central orange,
Color’s evolve spiral through final chapters
doors.
In the end a detachable mixture, a riddle
puzzled,
A synapsed seclusion and the task is solved.

There are many ways to kill (a man),
And I taught them.
There are many ways to murder (me).
And I brought them.

Oh give me…pain with no repose,
Oh give me…ears that are closed,
Oh give me…mouths with no response,
Oh give me the burden of a new tongued order,
And the skin rhythmed touch of migrating
metaphor.

Oh his beautiful man, born of demon King
Ravana,
Raised in argent ardency dimensions,
visionaries,
Silveries through strange pattern properties,
Sacral geometries carnivale spinning pellucidly,
Samhain and Scylla spiral madly
metaphysically.
Resolutely, while dying they cut their hair free,
Administration of death in her presence seen.
Lost children eternally, anomalous demons
greeting them.
The world flies backwards unreality of what it
requires.
Ephemeral to ambiguities flame extinguishing
names.
The dead enfold, born moaning into this world.
Celtic God’s and blackened blacksmith sorcery,
Toys in the palms of callous cannibalistic
Chronos,
Witches ride wildly for frightful Phobos,
From the bales of fear my private lunacy
changes me.

Monstrosities grunting courageously,
Mumbling rotten membranes,
Leaves, thorns, beast horns, intestines, heart
shadowed scorns,
Fright at might dear antlers dead and red, rusty
machinery.
Morning breaks broke blood torments,
Nights in hellish anguish shatters.
He tore all his clothes off, and naked he roars
with torched lips,
Lunacy smile wild and wide shadowed caustic
fits,
Lives lonesome black buffalo and rabid holy
madman.

The stalking beast entreats me in rooms
without vision,
Where the light will remain hidden,
Save fiery twilight eternally bidden.

“There is nothing that is alive here” it cackles at
my shackles,

”If the light is prayed the shadows will explode
against expiring,

You do not know what is happening to you,
hellish heresy clarity confuse.”

I should shake the walls, slam fists to tables
expectantly, I said:

“I will make my blood flow like a tap!” I almost
didn’t bleed,
I revealed my wound to wise effect of
intercede,
He told me to dream.

It’s been a year and still he stands there sirene,
I pound him and drown him, stab him,
confounds him,

Nothing moves him.
The world breaks down around him,
He sneers and peels and smears,
He curses and tears,
And breaks…
And cuts like a beast.

“My innermost shaitan;
Predatorial preternatural hunts of my psyche,
Mavening movements within me…
Or behind my back

Waiting…

Waiting…for me to turn around.”

Another dream

The scream of three children among the leaves

Close to the waterfall and the abyss

Roses too close to them

Should I follow them or overlook them

Strange decisions

And children miracles with no self-belief

In due time the ground and constellations should be known

So the last revelation

Is not empty time

And crucified echo of footsteps in seclusion

Returned to sea

The symbol of “the sea” is similar to that seen in the beasts rising out of the sea and out of the earth (Revelation 13:1, 11). It designates origination, representing the realm of the earth

Also, the fish is a symbol of baptism and as such, an appropriate symbol for Christians to adopt. A fish symbolizes fertility, feelings, creativity, rebirth, good luck, transformation, health, abundance, serenity, intelligence, happiness, strength, and endurance.

Authors note

***

Returned to sea, through realms
beyond the sea,
whatever city you may be in,
the shalop reach the side
as died upon the tide

of awakening fire
why fly with one wing
Of flowers budded newly
Among the pirates, among the shepherds
A ram goes bleating.

How to walk on one leg?
Conjure thee to linger in the multitude arose
how much of the world can be seen
with half an eye
about their brows!

Strange ministrant of abrupt thunder
behind which hill does the man cease to be
Dread opener of the feathery whizzing
far and wide
on which the field a beast remains
A yielding up, through the water straight,

Let them die everyone who isn’t us,
the empty souls vibrated with the howling
of thousands of kinds of monstrosities

They wrapped their miserable greens in dazzling colours
to cool bosom mocking under your shore – out of memory
unconscious did they embalmed your heavier, sweet grief above

Why live with one hand
how to walk on one leg
They mock you
But we will cry with you
don’t worry about those devilish smirks

To tunes forgotten,
Once more been tortured with
the towering horses
in due time aloud we cry beckon’d you to silence
a kiss on the cheek,

To melting one eye fish
to earth the dower of still waters
and white did lave that all those gentle lispers
to tinge the salt tear syren shores
don’t worry about those damn ridicule

No matter what city you were in,
returned to sea, through realms beyond the sea
return to the sea
what kind of land it is for which one must die for

Don’t worry about the red nights in the east
don’t worry about those devilish kingdoms
don’t worry about anything

 

all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019

the true identity of the woman in the poem “Struggling for Survival”

for all those who cannot see the beauty behind the depths of archetypes, I, gladly, analyze (in-depth) the archetypes in the poem “Struggle for Survival”. I often revieve comments that my poems are too “deep”, whatever that means.
I find it a pleasure to analyze my poems this way.
for those for whom it’s not too huge, grasp it, enjoy it, fellows!

in 40 minutes I explore the true identity of the woman in the poem Who is she? Who is not… – through the book of Revelation, comparisons of Buddhist female deities, lists of victims of rape in antiquity, and much more.

Feel free to leave the comment.

 

 

 

Let all things fly out

Cover your lips and hails

Inhale the odour of wind and change

Pry open the little casket

Let all things fly out

Both peaceful nights and lullabies

 

Renounce them

Confusion and long nights are coming

 

If you wish for whispers and thick shelters

Beware

A dream is a famous sower

In the age of new illusions

Which virgins turn to life

Striving for Survival Part 2, Unless I escape in time

 

The Lord said, ‘I have seen my people in bondage, and I have heard their cry,’” “I know their sorrows, and I have come to deliver them from the hand of evil men and lead my people out of that sorrowful place, to a land flowing with milk and honey.” 

 

I say this in voiceover as they carry me through the woods.

To save myself  from the abusive plight.

Bone-chilling words I would direct at a wealthier yeoman

or a more ambitious female Moses,

who would come as was her duty,

quivering like a leaf,

to bow down to me and ask for my blessing –

 

to experience a nervous breakdown,

to cast out my humanity when necessary,

to be raped, beaten,

to endure what it cannot be endured,

to survive my evildoers and the whole twisted nazi society

and to become a blooming superhero. 

Mars exulti!

behold the cruel patterns of the past and the future.

do not let the premonitions dry up

to be ready to be picked up

in fear of being forgotten,

while a fluorescent streetlight of Jailer

stare at me with a flaming eye. Aflame in anger.

 

Due to toxic gases .. public hangings are everyday.

with prayer, as well as participating in pulling a rope, stoning, too ..

Chaotic stoning all day long

paranoically mumbling to myself – The stones, the damn stones…

 

 

To wear the wrong dress, to be fertile Unwoman,

 forcing slave to die in poisonous colonies to work  

 until I fall apart, piece by piece of my body

or be sent as concubine from home to home,

to men with  their tail a third part of the stars in heaven

and on my head a garland of twelve stars

to be raped in an obscene, profane ceremonial ritual

we, girls are raped at 14 while forcing us to pray to the Lord 

unreal, maddened eyes sow fear followed by a raging disease and death!

 

It hurts being clothe with a moon

As that woman about to give birth in front of the dragon

particular misshapen friend

deal a powerful blow,

with a knife in the chest,

and then to devote insane

and grotesque calls

which left me mute a

and in the most horrific of pain

 

The blade was laid in the carved bone

and the altar, an ancient image of divinity

will speak the tongue of bones tonight.

 

that.. Being.. Revelation woman..

Her head peeked beyond all countless spirals

painted much in the same manner,

that way putting herself in the center of microcosm

of all-encompassing universality of nature,

becoming a role model for humanity.

 

My look at the city was one of prison. I

am here – behind bars.

This is a city in the middle of a prison.

Unless I escape in time.

Into the wilderness as is a desolate place

And full of serpents and scorpions,

“travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered”

 

The forest unbathed by an ocean of blood
An unhealed wound beneath the hot navel
The unpierced rib in the deciding battle
A lonely nest devoid of it’s eagle.

 

My mortal body with immortal progeny!
I summon the Heavens to bow down to my tentacles
Folded into a clenched fist!

 

THE MAN’S PRAYER

THE MAN’S PRAYER

Please, Father. Deliver me. Watch my semeion…
because this is not the place of the still waters
Boon pure as jade stones and lilies
below the moon – women dressed in the sun

But a place of eternal torment
Aion .. if you have not noticed
and behold the great fiery dragons.
Fire shines upon this red tears falling.

Dark clouds hang low
and blood to wild donkeys
it makes them gush their thirst.
up to the vanishing point

This is the valley of death
This is the death clock room full of
people with seven heads and ten horns
and the ala, with child, devoured cried,
a fucking ton of bricks fresh, at birth

For three evils and for the four that you did,
as I’ve decided to forgive you, too, Father,
fatherhood above, a father of us all
Do not worry, Father,
we, mortals, are inclined to forgive everything
And to feel.. and to see..
a chosen generation..
For this, I say to you by the word of the
Man.

Just get me out of here.

Copyright ©Leila Samarrai Mehdi2019®

* No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*