seven barmy blasphemers


1
I was putting powder on my cheeks for three nights
I was putting powder on my cheeks for three nights
as subsided temperamental Countess
of rosy cheeks without a dental crown

Are you not too slow and pious to
persecute me, and nail me to the cross
in the eyes of the thief
two canine teeth are ruptured by nails and his funereal tell
(for I and the Almighty bovine get along like Jesus and his cross)
caught a sense of all the Gospels

2
I am mild towards my alienígenas albertosaurus murderer
masquerading as a human being zipped inside a skin suit.
and the secret alignment that chords over us
while bombs and people were falling around us

3
While bombs and people were falling around us
I’m jeering from one end of the full stop to the other.
Goddess, God or Lord puts on a pair of black gloves, t
hough she – the black spaz is not the son of a glove maker.

She rose from the grave
With a knockdown gaze:
“I baptize you with water to this grave”
She sits on a mahogany bench then,
which is intended for the visitors of the dead
the music is rocking inluxurious splendor

4
Just tragicomic love noise in the background
played by the orchestra in lacy nightgowns
one sad melody
She licks the remnants of her coquetting life
and her beak is facing the sky

5
I lined the idea that failed to flow forth
I lined the idea that failed to flow forth
as I hovered over the Shrapnel soap
while the 1999 Shrapnels were whistling around us
and I adjusted my face in the mirror
as waiting in the wings for my tears to come

6
I sang a lullaby for a happy heart-shaped face
I celebrated a feast that doesn’t come to mind
is silent without a pause, she – God – is black
and she listens without a pause,
with virtuoso aversion

I celebrated the feast through
Blessed Sacrament of anguish
At most, it’s vivisection.
in several pictures

7

I shuddered gracefully swamped in the turbid acid
the promotion faces were looking for love in my view
where there is no one else but blueness and croquet
oh, fine abstraction, you’re warm as saline

God abandoned Jesus on the cross.
their sadomasochistic relationship is predicted.
At most, it’s vivisection.
in several pictures

 

©Leila Sanmarrai, 2019 Belgrade

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

Scream and Whisper


– We heard the scream!
– But you did not hear the whisper.
Leila Samarrai Mehdi
***
May the cries echo.
After that

the quiet will stumble
like a whipped

wild horse, a moment
pilled inside

the throat,
overpowering

the wind
yowling down

our condemned
roads. Waiting,

in a deaf room
under deaf stars,

a scream, anchored
to the whisper.

The Habitus of Wilhelm Friedman


Wilhelm Friedman was spat upon to the point of pain.
A boozehound died poor… They then admit…
The dude hit the clavier, like the buckish
bios of notable rock stars.
Oy vey, there was a movie as well,
I think the title of it is, in fact,
Wilhelm Friedman, where he
suffers and struggles
He is the father, we are all his children’ (OH GOD!!!!)
but with all those flies, fleas and planktons
that make up life and make up us humans,
like a living organism, dead centre in that life itself.
the habitus of Friedman Bach.
A remarkable musician, an unrivalled composer,
but a heavy, heavy drinker.

Copyright © 2019 by Leila Samarrai Mehdi

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