For every little candle


 

From Bosnia without love

With love arrived

The Cretan Bull

Like a witch of wishes

Those skyish strati

Astartan

As an avalanche on

The back of a Judas boulder

A running mountain of

Revealing ripples

Revealed elbow dances

And sweet tongues

Poor Jago!
You were not God’s favourite!

But you turned

Feverishly

Fearlessly

On the

Favourite

The unfortunate victim of

Wrath

 

Oh, Ishtar!

Your goodness for my

Blameless eyes

Was too much

And whoa! From here?

All the way to

Marathon

With charismatic nostrils aflame

Dust flying

In my face

To blind and mute

 

 

For every little candle

To all big stars

You all witness

My demonic inscription

My mind and heart and soul

In all forms, intelligible

In all grammar and prose

And languages

My writings of dark

For the light

To get within

That I am still here

As alive as ever

As eager as ever

As big as ever

As unapologetic as ever

A voice forbids arrest

I have to go on

Through the moonlight

And on till the starlight

Is sunlight

To pressure on

Release the tyrannosaurus

In me

And the brethren

One by one

I am alive

Rejuvenated

Reoriented

In the last grip of humanity

To blow the iron curtain

For deceit

For the light

To see the dark

Like I had been

Before terminal

Delivered off my lines

Hercules blows away the bonds

The bonds intended

For hell

But sent for newness

Is it impossible?

Ever dynamic their pants

Aflamed with cold

Killing instinct

A sword of foreign death

Skulls crushed

Necks sliced

Fingers roasted

And complete

Swallowed with glee

On negotiation

Their instituted intentions

We are not humans

For them

We relinquish waste

Ours

And bathe  in theirs

We nauseate

Our aptitude develops

With Plato’s guiding

Cutting our innocence

We shudder

And become desert sand

Yet there is no red light

Plato guides us on

Recreating us

But we are humans

We do it humanely

And not as

A cult.

 

From the broken lands

Of tormented life

And children in blood

They came to give

Some rest and some food

To empty bowls

They had their full

They had their fill

With holes in the plates

Of benignity

 

A marsh makes Lamastu with Layla, in the night, Slanderers Part Two (Poem by Leila Samarrai to her slanderers)


Of Vicious Being Rabisu, and the Nightmare
Of doing what is bad to his neighbor.,
who put night time monsters in this 
 simulacrum
Brought a voyeur  into Awakening
and all our wicked and lucid appetite for  useless life
With loss of  Sight, who here is an Earthling, a
and who an extraterrestrial
From hell, from heaven, hieromonk apostate
yester morn us,  And afterwards proclaims us blind
And when I jot them all down,
I will await my trial, I the spirit who follows her fate
as if it were the fate of an avenger,
my head on a stump, the only given possibility.
A dissonant interval. Music banging in the dark.
A calm before the storm.
Then all of the scribblings, those in my treasure chest
as well as my head, will be swallowed by flames.
Then I shall sing from the ashes and embrace the walls
as I burn half-spoken
A vicious being, Rabisu*, takes all kinds of form,
he lasts to the bitter end,
to the dust, in a lifetime,
before waking up, only for some breed of men

Both the light and shadow,
both whirlpools and abysses
of the deeps, merge with vile contours of envy.
Fearless, doubtful shame wallow in dunghill
In the edge of the lost world,
none shall hear the truth, its monstrosity,
but also its shininess
Unto Innocence cry lies  the reverberation
by the slanderers burnt in
Through all our mazes of Ire and Fire,
An attack of the innocents,
a finger of fantasy pointed at dire events
to  avengeance a discord of (thy) listed names.
 
The honourable citizenry slandered.
and the quill’s wounds scream
These eyes of mine get me to the windowsill,
while sweat drips onto the dark maps
in my enraged cranium and the ink spills.
 
For it is all written. Their claims.
In my sleep
Irritant, gluttonous tongue of the serpent
thralls,
to craft a tangled state,  to down with this living man
through the scales of slander, and those letters…
oh, such letters!

For all, it had done and for all hast not done
That I did a mightier service to stumbling block and weep
of something magnified, nesting nowhere  in my spirit,
for it appeared in the clearest,
nigh-apathetic shape based on true love I once  felt
towards.

And in those letters I openly,
helplessly and naively checked all
…through words and pictures
opened the tense mind, through the heart, stabbed
As leans in crawling pincer

 
A beastly howl of the desperate,
undiminished, swim through the similes
But said Prowler of the Desert:
” Picture Cupid dipping arrowheads
in phenylethylamine. It is poison,
to undergo the mournful shades?
Why is thy sight pedestal on the top of earthly kingdoms,
a Carpenter – Shephard, crowned ruler of all artists,
The hell is this damn wooden bench!
Two massive bits glued together and a piece of plywood…
…plywood in the middle like a cork!”
Among the mournful, mutilated shades?
 

Anything but  lights, carpenter’s fashion as a guide,
Consider,  if to count Apostles be pipe players
did a ditty
for numerous books in a single passage,
a secret of that slanderer trash whispering
behind the scenes, with a filthy rag
and uttered verdict, razor-sharp.

Observing through eyes unseen,
that silence tears through applaud,
at times shrugs and as if shaking
of a stone, then like exhaling in pain,
The motion of slanderer.
The devil’s work

 
Lye thus unpitying kingdom crushed
offered up as a REPLACEMENT does,
Perun himself spoke to me,
or an Arab Djinn of sorts
I got the Serbian and Arabian war gods mixed up.
Seizing the first
Seizing the second, distorted drunks downing that final glass…
of poison.
– If only plastered cinnamon and rose perfume onto her moustache- it’s cold, even for the disconsolate when lifeless living
clenched a thiyab al-mounadamah…

or whatever robe of striking colours,
seized with its claws.
if robbed by a mysterious fever,
hardened backs bent, scared and careful
of the impending knife strike,
like lab rats, yet bloodthirsty.

as if those of drunks downing that final glass…
an option

And now the moon  errands in the doomy pit
Behold Dat and Dis, the wicked spirits
galloped back through time
moon teeth corrupt to their roots and bloody..
Too well I blind and rue the stare at me
with a flaming eye.
Aflame in anger.
The moon has nothing to do with it.

 

That with sad, enormous chunks of time
Has lost us blocking the thorough research of vile
By right of Irre, diabolical actions,
By right of Slime, rash must go  behind
By right of  War, taken out  insidiously
By right of a lipstick-wearing actor, taken out comically.
By right of treacheries, idiocies, taken out vigorously
 From fell to fell descended Iscariot’s slanders
to set asag – disease of the benign red shores.

Strongly to enumerate a hysterical wretches
in muck of mud and blood –
In horrible destruction only impurity essences
The hours of night taking away a restful pistol
my bullets are ready, my drawers are gone

 
Passing through door cracks to feed inhospitable winds of the steppe,  the Hetman still rides, knight.
A marsh makes Lamastu with Laylah, in the night
*Rabisu and Lamastu are nightmarish demons in ancient mythologies
*Laylah is Arabic name, means “Night”

make me.. whisper.. in thousand poppies/in the valley of wrath


I water my anger
to the Virgin blest yclept
a sun – ypointing eternally slept
by brooding darkness myrth

Then you, violence, my  fancy of itself
of wrinkled care desires
make me.. whisper.. in thousand poppies

lost in sudden, turns damp to infusion brewed
of the winding morning chalice
hence  the frolic awakening of a spinning man
cast high awakening malice

Poppied, yellow June
has such violent roses
to the thorns has  long, sharp
fingernail,

amulet, blade
fingertips of  cobra Basilisk
All wreathed bites
echoes in a rumpus of shade

Wrath after wrath
into the happy blossom
to shake the poisonous bell
while yet my  weep cheer Cimmerian

In the budding of the caterpillar

hell
upon grey bloody hair
and not within my razzmatazz eye
and upright mad rabid Lyssa
amidst the feast of rage-stuffed time

I touch
the necklace of Harmonia

(hallowed be my irre)

The thunder-blasted glees  or past injustices,
shall bloom the thunder flashes of lightning
in the drip all over dominion

Sometimes suddenly
comes at eventide beggar
knight named NIGHT with the coinage in all the pomp
frenzied Zadkiel holds my dagger, dressed in Indigo-Sloth

or one more worthy sunfish
caught in blood down dry
dare, cornucopia…

to lay down upon the poor sleeper’s cry

Confession at 3.33


Confession at 3.33

I confess to you, I of an unusual nature,
And all the kingdoms I offer to you- plain.

Lying tongues- orators and benefactors
The first one is of giants of song as of hay,
Through games of ancient history, they peck on the intestines
Filled with the substance of nasty virtue,
With fruitful mouths, they drink the wines.

Serpents hiss with human tongues…
The orator is amidst the ball and casts off damnations… with love.

Fools

Washerwomen wash the shores for incessant feasts,
For the water trough of the early morning peacock.

Beasts
Tigers roar- damned by the fables-
To washerwomen, for labour’s sake, and the dishes plentiful
Fools drink the honorable regal wines.

Casanovas, drunks, erotomen and everybody’s merry Big Brother
Far less than geniuses
Who lead the fools
With fornication, cunningness, and booze
To hidden thoughts.

Traitors
Scared dogs.
Skilled at stuffing bones.

I raise my right hand and swear on the darkness of
Legitimacy
With an unburdened mind and a truth in my heart
Within the light dewy with the ability of
Mankind
Your knife cut through all the conditions of disorder.
It’s entirely safe in my hands.

With a frozen smile,
I walk through the fall
Of a zillion kingdoms.
Flags are waving and ships are sailing underneath the sky

Of a broken magnificence

After years of absence
Colored in oddity,
I stay…  while drowning in tears

Of my Arabian wrath.

Angry poems, Recommendation of Nemesis


Hunchbacks, butcher clowns, villains!

Hunchbacks
With a cloud on their back
Butcher clowns
Villains
Regana’s daughters
Who hate my day
And all my mornings
Born from the wound
Of glistening narcissuses
Litter of Lucrecia
You exchanged venoms
Compressed into pitchers
In grinds sweetly
To stain the knife
With ancient cause
It is the artist osculating
He butchered the night
Of silence
And hush
But I will further hear
The eternal echo of my death.

13.

in the hour of celebrated departure
the warriors slumbered.
They breathe out under banners
And bloom in the hollow.
Flowers separate them.
Or are those
Intersected roads,
Nemesis,
Time fell asleep
In ambiguities.

 

Liars

They lied to the constellations, and stars
The colorful fireflies with drums on their wings
Hidden inside the flakes of chitin
About the origin of the dinosaur bone and silence of the cosmos

In the image of god by which – they lied about this too!
Pulse the rivers of light
Hypnos weeps, and the tears of ice are a gruesome cure
Weeps on the catafalque of the Queen Kai and Gerda

Liars!
Eternal Herman watches the game, he will hunt you down
Quickly! Do not say how foxed dreamer does not warn

They lied to me that I am fertile, dreamy and fertile
The mortal mouth of lies bent like a toy
They lied that there are addict giants
On the Cape Verde
And the faces of savages are like an ironing board
The smell of clean laundry is mixed with salt
And the eternal prince with the yellow heraldry of the irises
Circles around their feet

The scalding grip of a lie
How she embraced you
Like some kind of a law is crumbling or
The steadily Nothing is being demolished
Within the inconsolable Truth
The ship is sinking!
Munchhausen pass the gun, you lurid earl
Mammoth killer, you crocodile, you dreadful rhapsody of white
A vixen your mistress Mother – Lie!
Lie!
Uneasy, work-eaten, strong
Are the poets of your Hell,
On the pyre of the sea drowning like the truth

This is why my laughter is no longer heard,
This is why my womb is pillaged, for
The sea torn from laughter clamors:
“Oh, naïve daughter. . .!”
The sun does not exist
After 25th ideals are dissolved in hydrogen chloride
All the dark and cynical faces
Are the alcoholic dream of the universe
And the gale of everyone’s laughter is the start of a thunder
Make-up is smeared in the circle whose path
Follows the Eternal Beast with its intestines of pickled love

The lied to me that they lie!

Daddy

You, with a wax masque of a Summer rain, inconstant scatterbrain

Know: the love of fathers is hell on a st(ake)rand!
You, with your limb more stiff than the dogmas of Lucifer.
Who have you forgot to permeate:

The Woman: who is a river ( for she flowed to you)
The Daughter: who is volcanine ( for she burned for you)
The Earth – which swallows you (ultimate mistress)?
You, who are present but not present, Know:

Hate has a heart! The green heart of shot Lorca and wrath of God!
He, alike you:
Does not love!
Does not forgive!
Does not kiss!

To gift the legal age he rapes the Vestales .
Bloodsucker! Anathema! Harpy!
You growl too loud, desert fa(ng)ther.

I know you encircle girls before the door.
I know you flow down their thighs sweaty.
Like unborn milk flows from me to you.
Like chrome sand flows from my eyes instead of tears.
Like thorns grow within my body and not children.
You, who are a corpse in formalin,
the mute vocalist of the torn wire,
the chalice of poison before sleep.

Know:

My shadow takes you off the wall,
a wingless bird in the darkness of the room,
will skin the marble face and his smile of a victor!

Know:

Even hope at times answers to the mute.
The dug away umbra from the extinguished lantern.

Oh, Burn! Burn!
Flame Pompeii, die in anguish!
May the abandoned children clap their hands!
May the thrilled audience scream of laughter!

Like I . . . Like I who screamed
When Creator waded over me with words:
Maasalam*, my Child! Maasalam!

*ma’a salama good-bye in Arabic

 

Recommendation of Nemesis

We met by the reflection of the eyes,
Echoed the enamored god
Like Echo mortally in love with pretty Narcissus,
The future suicide from who will grow
The flower and myth of sin with oneself.

With oneself I found that:
My mouth is sutured
My hands mourning songs without masochistic pleasures.
Do you seek within her the aesthetic artistic utterance with truth and freedom?
Or merely an attempt to put things in their real place.
I knew I shall say the monstrous everything or I will say nothing.

(The Minotaur of Tales)
Kill her!
May the sword taste her stomach and breasts
After your fingers and face!
Kill her, and do not mourn her!

It is a gamble, card playing,
A splendid, glorious and retched plea,
To disclose and discover the flaming blade.

(Joan of Ark)
Stab her!
Stab her with a spear!
Remember the dungeons and betrayals!
Remembrance is death for repentance!

We met at one of the impossible places,
We were a pair of unforeseen miracles.
It was a gift, a curse and futility.
Where the glance hits both the one and the other.
The glance that brings and takes away.

The abyss among people laughs in the faces of those who give away their deepest thoughts
Or the histories of loved beings. At the end, a tatter thrown to the road is left.
A fable interesting to none, the secret in the service of the one who scares and enchants.
Will our great freedom and intrepidity judge us out of most noble incentives?
Will our anxieties, the magnificent relics with brutal renditions, whirl in other letters?

Monstrous legislations are governing people and the black hour chokes within us
Both the thinker and the emotive man.
Wrapped in black atmosphere, we buckle , grow pale, the throat spreads its limits
And fear sprouts outside with words attacked by assumptions
And the horrible remembrances followed by cruel pain, self pity and remorse.

(Shepherd Henry Roberts of Salem)
Burn the witch!
Hair by hair let her burn!
May she scream helpless!

Without the strength to continue the letter,
Stumbled by the free to:
Say more!
Say faster!
(necessarily trivial)
I wish to sing
The way it should be or should never.

(Recommendation of Nemesis)
Kill the heart memento
Pertaining to the mocking bird!

She (it) is the boil in my stomach,
She eats it and minces it, destroys
The nightmare from which you cannot awaken by anything except walking and sleepwalking,
While she climbs to heights with a view to the Precipice,
That fills the eyes of the caught sleeper with horror.

(Poe’s recommendation)
Kill her in her own vomit
Without right for mesmerization.

Confession at 3.33

I confess to you, I of an unusual nature,
And all the kingdoms I offer to you- plain.

Lying tongues- orators and benefactors
The first one is of giants of song as of hay,
Through games of ancient history they peck on the intestines
Filled with the substance of nasty virtue,
With fruitful mouths they drink the wines.

Serpents hiss with human tongues…
The orator is amidst the ball and casts off damnations… with love.

Fools

Washerwomen wash the shores for incessant feasts,
For the water trough of the early morning peacock.

Beasts
Tigers roar- damned by the fables-
To washerwomen, for labours sake, and the dishes plentiful
Fools drink the honorable regal wines.

Casanovas, drunks, erotomen and everybody’s merry Big Brother
Far less then geniuses
Who lead the fools
With fornication, cunningness and booze
To hidden thoughts.

Traitors
Scared dogs.
Skilled at stuffing bones.

I raise my right hand and swear on the darkness of
Legitimacy
With an unburdened mind and a truth in my heart
Within the light dewy with the ability of
Mankind
Your knife cut through all the conditions of disorder.
It’s entirely safe in my hands.

With a frozen smile,
I walk through the fall
Of a zillion kingdoms.
Flags are waving and ships are sailing underneath the sky
Of a broken magnificence.
After years of absence
Colored in oddity,
I stay…
To guard them while drowning in tears

Of my Arabian wrath.

THE ROAD, Leila Samarrai


1.

My distant seas
Flooded the land
In the night.
My bright fires
Smell burned nostrils.
Pain.
Distorted are
The kisses.
My warm dreams
Frosted by
Extinct stars
And oaths
Which only the constellations
understand.
There they are
Like curses.
The thief took away the peace
Kept in a vortex ‘till then.
Frozen reflections sleep
Vanished flowers
Through irony
Heal hell.

2.
The wounds elicited hopes
To
Exhausted
stranded
onto the rocks of ancient seas
bring peace to the castaway.
They prolonged the eternal day
To one more wrathful hour.

3.
Have you not been brought by the departed
into dark regions
by the narrowness of heart?
Eat your own heart.
Let snow cover it.
The sight and breath return
After the strike of the matured essence.
Let Truth become essence to you
The quest
Pretty fresco carved
By the eye of the stern
Iced
Sun.

4.
Look how they drink wine
And make merry with thorns
They feed the fish
On the river Jordan.
They gather them with a hat
Quickly serve them
Even faster gnawed
They throw them back to the water
And croak to the moon
Into the mum day.
They followed the tail of the star
To see her head
Embryos of the entirety
To remove.
In hands they carry gold,
Hear where they say:
From spirit the emerald was born.

5.
Mystics listen to her
Cynics vomit her
Midwives truth-birth her
And since always
Welcome her on hands
That insidious trash
To fill their pitchers
With her feces.
Born from the spirit of pride
From the spleen of law
From the blood of forefathers
From the womb of lies
From seventy seven
Forgiveness
The fools loved her
Saints like a knick – knack
Showed her on the fair
Liars about her
Sexually fantasized
Ecce veritas
Spends her life next to Dionysius ,
Bloodless turkey cocks and donkeys
Smell her sacred beak.
Crowned with laurels
Permeated with boredom
In the tasteful asylum
And she sings in blood
To dampened strings
While watching her reflection
In the lavatory of Hades
Remembers
Progenitrix
Now already an aging whore
Arose from the dream
To maintain the dream.

6.
From the cold
in the bones
in the cold
to the bones
where have you
banished
Your brother Cain
And them?
Will they die?
From the ice
Under bones
Will they drop dead?
By sheet
Of winter
In the bones
All those who
On Good Friday
Got some kind of
Shoes
To walk the earth;
The dream extracted from my eye.

7.
Mister,
In the polished macrocosm
Cleansed from the dirty
The poor and the ugly
May my prayer
Rip your moment of peace.

8.
I live in peregrine flesh
I think in a peregrine head
I don’t want to be stultified!
(Apparition!
Why you write so loud?)
I have been cured
To perversity

9.

I believe in craziness
In the seed of furore
Like Chateaubriand
Which confides into the power
Of Borodin sun
I believe in scum
Sideway spheres
Cuckoo eggs
Saint Ignatius cantinier
I am
The snack of lions
Holy Trinity
And drunken senate-crown
In poison-(mis)ery
I swear
To senex
Which catches up with youth
Princeps of principibus
Thrown into the arena
Sown with sandals
Of devoured magistrates
The fruit of time lowers by the sky
My bones beside the son
The second son
Of Urbin
It is a cowardly
graveyard
Since then I circle
With white dogs
Through haze
Upon shores.

10.
Pierced by sound
Wave the forks
With the mute ear
Hunt the landloper
Broken by a blackguard
The tempest rushes towards wrath
Silence and bones
Of some ancient springhead
Springhead through bodies.

11.
He dies in words
The man who writes.
Drowned fish slide
Down bloodied carousel
Unconscious eyes
The man writes
Dives like a bird
For a sonata
Drowned in the fountain
The passerby in water
With unmoving feet
And he and her
And us and you
Head to the clouds
The harvest sown
In the iris
They quest for a vision
She shapes in a poem
The bloody thirst
Bitterness mocks her
They pass dipped
In icy bathrooms
Through peaceful centuries
You know well
Who writes
About the luster of infinity
Or nothingness
It is equal
In vain.

12.

Hunchbacks
With a cloud on their back
Butcher clowns
Villains
Regana’s daughters
Who hate my day
And all my mornings
Born from the wound
Of glistening narcissuses
Litter of Lucrecia
You exchanged venoms
Compressed into pitchers
In grinds sweetly
To stain the knife
With ancient cause
It is the artist osculating
He butchered the night
Of silence
And hush
But I will further hear
The eternal echo of my death.

13.
In the hour of celebrated departure
The warriors slumbered.
They breathe out under banners
And bloom in the hollow.
Flowers separate them.
Or are those
Intersected roads ,
Nemesis,
Time fell asleep
In ambiguities.