Laying In Wait To Pounce Upon His Prey – Poem by Leila Samarrai

So beautifully lined with fear,
a face of the loser, the being bearing
her cross with Christian fortitude,
the cross built of the entire human experience
Ms Masters in the art of loneliness.
The archetypal example! Monsters! It’s been years since
I’ve seen that kind of
monsters, so twisted,
it’s… quite disgusting,
even by nightmarish standards.
Once the man was nailed to the cross
Today, the cross is crucified in man

Expose those clowns,
throw them into mud pits
and ensure their eternal destruction.

I do not tolerate rivals.
There’s only one Rabisu* doing what is bad to his neighbor.! ,
Who do they think they are to compare with my malice,
those vicious monsters! .
My malice is going for theatrics.

Seeing them circling above you in the physical world,
I realized our encounter was no accident, right?
I received word of you… that say you were..
You, in your own way,

My Morrigain demoness of the corpses,
my Mora, my queen of the nightmare..
We’re exactly the same.
Ah, I cannot tell more

But, now I believe..
In intentional encounters!
it’s almost like a one-way love affair.
laying in wait to pounce upon his prey

in the quietest valley of the bitter courage

I blossom in the valley of bitter
the rotting tooth

funeral good words in the coffin
On shovel!

galloping nonsense
talking about the menacing forms of the Day
longing – cosmic hazards
encompassing – continent-continents

with your thumb in your mouth
big baby
suck up a gold dump
through a snooze.
a humanist angelic song,
cross and neck rope
Pilate, don’t prolong the debate
even though your hands are sweating.
On a basin! And the towels!

Ah, deity! extend the nectar expiration,
honey and thirst.
as an impostor Godot
at the time of my euphoria,
the shackles of the more serious things
steal time behind Beethoven’s scenes
by the way,
I have a long, bearded beard.

The time foretold – I look not like reality,
but rather
the citizens of Calais’  nightmares crusaders
(France, habitat!)
Pontius, you boiling cattle, my fault has erupted
hotter than the Titanic glacier’s
swollen kidney dipped in self-love
try to steal a drop of water from the Source
(Incidents are side)
I’m stealing blasphemes against the wooden bastard
tattletale me to the Gods who performed me

Au Revoir, Charlene

Do you regret it, Charlene
I really did not expect it
and should have been,
I do not know how we missed it
to find myself in such a sauce
You really screwed me up
It’s not just your fault I admit
I wanted to hang myself when I found out what you were
it’s nothing unexpected
in my family, there were many lunatics
It’s not unusual to meet them
and this way
crazy people attract me

and I, them..

I do not know … it’s hard for me to decide
whether to throw myself under a truck
or to follow the tradition of my family
a few days ago the rope was broken
and we need a new one
and again. Maybe a car … and I thought of that
to run over me, or just skulking around
like badgers in the night
and I’m waiting for someone to pick me up
nor will they go to jail, we will arrange it
agreement with them is feasible
I have not decided yet, and I have to
I need to get lost soon … this car is covered with crimson silk ..
and then I remembered I left them elsewhere
Far .. That car … you do not listen to me? Well yes
Typical for you. You ‘re such a bitch, an ogress
What a man would expect from you?
Or a woman
indecent, imaginative, you think I have passions in myself
it’s strange to you, you’re a bit jaded, you’re glad someone died, maybe I did?
so that .. you would not have to laugh in vain
the playfully drawn lines of the study portrayal
typically lyrically, well-formed, friendly
I’m so sure of it
you’re doing it and…
you do not follow me, well, how could you?
you’ve failed as our civil war
that doesn’t work, not for rabies.
but, fortunately, I have Memphis, I wanted you to know that
that’s why I came to tell you au revoir
I will fly into the pink sky of dawn
while you .. (you’re laughing again ..) at dark plans
among grapes on your face
all run-down and weathered and wrinkly
a sign that there is no doubt about it
I’m sure that’s just the way
at one point I let you go too far
so that’s not just your fault
the rope broke.
oh, sorry, the rope burst
so, leave it, it’s broken
you do not really feel like it.
and you thought you had it all planned.
You’re making a villain out of me in my story.
Charlene, do you ever feel remorse?
Can you hear?
Do you hear what I hear?
Are you hearing this… (unknown sound), too?

Charlene, are you still there, or … you’re looking at the crowd
making love to your tonic or gin
You’re looking for me at Memphis, but you can not find me there
I’m going to my printer now
and I did not give you a book
at least not with a dedication
the skywriters spelt your name wrong
bookstores are available for everyone
I never wanted you to know all about these things
although I knew you knew them
you play the victim, you blame and torture and blink
you’re just troublesome, you’re embarrassing me,
wondering why .. I’m pondering
why I feel regret, Charlene
why all this touches me
here, it’s working on me again
It works, I become sensitive
why are you looking at me like that,
It’s a serious crime here, so it’s ..
You always played the victim
when I look at you I have no desire to live
I’m ashamed of you
I’d kill myself now. Here..
Here, give me a rope..
I’m leaving town…
luckily, lucky to have Memphis
and he’s waiting for me
and the apartment and they are worth a lot of attention
with whom I have not yet done business
and they do not go around like beaten dogs
and for which I will not regret it
and you? Do you repent? you? no
Me? Yes.
That’s life.
Rope …

sarlen (1)

Copyright ©Leila Samarrai Mehdi2018®

* 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.*