Author Archives: leilasmtrajkovic
The scream of butterflies, edited version
The scream of butterflies
It is like a desert where time isn’t told by clocks
it is like the crevice for the jailer to peer into a cell
it is why the birds, to me, have no name
it is the cause of my timid disruptions
it is the cause of my fallen kingdoms
It is not a creature known to human heart
that remains unmentioned amid my words.
SERBIA.
in this land that is not even my own
in this land where proud Palm Readers tell fortunes
(I might say that Serbia is a witchly soil
but there is no magic inside it)
Can I even be alive?
within the poem that screams while singing
(a witchly silence)
me, a flower studded in silence
If I have to die here
leave me to open up in silence
I, a strained water
I, a chained tree
I, a shepherdess in the witch forest
I, the mutes well of
a dying swath or mad, screaming butterflies
yes…
Bitterness? Or purity?
deceptive ventures
and useless experience
you have set in stone my human loneliness
Let us out of here, miss S! ..!!!! (scream of butterflies)
let us fly through
your sullen azure arch
In return,
we’ll celebrate you as a jailer
on the 25thanniversary of your hammer – existence, scavenger
we will glorify you, we… we, the winged corpses in the pit.
This night of torture
this dawn of tamed passion
this heartbreak soil.
POUR EVE, Dedicated to Eva Gaëlle Green (Gren), Leila Samarrai
Dedicated to Eva Gaëlle Green (Gren)
We the odd ones
We the selfsame ones
We are both
An ugly, broken thing.
Loosen the grip, o shocked goddess
femme recherché
laisse-moitranquille
Tis all in the foam
In thine shell
Adam’s member
is a snake which
sheds its skin
a maggot in a pink apple
I water the rage
With soft, tricked tears
Don’t cast your pearls
Before the phalluses
I depart for the graveyard of forbidden delights
Leila Samarrai, 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!
Commentary on the poem Rabbi Isa, deliver me NOT from evil, by Leila Samarrai – Ljubodrag Stojanovic, Serbian writer and poet
Regarding this poem, Indifference will be a feature of those who, in fact, have not read it. Others will praise or reviled it, the opportunists may growl a word or two turning the conversation to another topic. I think the poem is emotionally open, strong. Babylonian mix of languages is not an obstacle.
Jesus is presented beautifully, that primal Jesus, not through his alleged representatives on Earth, embodied in the make – money organization, as well as power and authority. Oedipal part, although in Father-Daughter relation is the most obvious
in King Richard part, where persistently repeat, like introduction to Ravel’s Bolero, echoes in head of the reader, insisting to be awakened by a Mother from nightmare in this shamelessly and father – less world.
There is a very strong part in conjunction with androgynous snake.
The snake is deeply connected with the Father’s part.
The absence of a King in her life has built a structure prone to resistance to the male part of the world. She identifies herself through the male power, so to speak, trapped in a woman’s body. Hence the emotional affinity
targeted at women.
The lack of a living father, coward without responsibility, on one hand, polarizes her personality since, on the other hand, there is a great dose of love for the aforementioned king, hence simultaneous hatred which initiates ambivalent emotions, hence the lyrics. Anger is directed towards the male gender, and rage against women is turned only to those primitive, deeply stupid and perverse women, ie, those that deserve it with that kind of personality
Jesus is the Father, a kind of father should be. Get up, girl! Jesus, as we know him from the New Testament. He encourages, forgives and does not judge. He prefers sinful children, prostitutes, revolutionaries, thieves, from bland people.
But she does not want protection from evil. She considers herself strong enough to stand up to evil, but rather only to refuse protection, she accepts evil as part of herself, what Njegoš would have said, to do evil, to defend yourself from evil, there is no atrocities in such things.
The choice of location is interesting, selected by Nightmare itself which is logical. If a dream-nightmare is ego and superego compromise, than the sequencing of the images is a universe in itself where there is no time and space.
Splendidly divided in thematic terms, your poem is a circle that folds and unfolds herself, she can exist independently, but as a whole she is rounded and as such she gets her real meaning.
Ljubodrag Stojanovic, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73i-fGeWBUo, Serbian writer and poet, he has published the drama Serbian Story (2002), a collection of aphorisms
I, crazy and confused (2009). He is represented in numerous printed and electronic anthologies of poetry and prose works.
Komentar na poemu “Ne izbavi me od zla”, Ljubodrag Stojanović, književnik
https://www.facebook.com/notes/leila-samarrai-green/ne-izbavi-me-od-zla/249775012045161
https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2016/06/12/and-deliver-me-not-from-evil/
Prema ovakvoj poemi, ravnodušni će biti samo oni koji je nisu čitali. Ostali će je hvaliti ili kuditi, oportunisti će možda promumlati dve ili tri reči i okrenuti razgovor na drugu temu. Mislim da je poema emotivno otvorena, snažna, ne smeta vavilonsko mešanje jezika. Divan prikaz Isusa, onog iskonskog, ne putem njegovih navodnih reprenzenata na Zemlji i na zemlji, oličenih u organizacije za zgrtanje novca, vlasti i moći. Edipalni deo, doduše u odnosu Otac-Ćerka, najizrazitiji je u delu o Kralju Ričardu, gde uporno ponavljanje, poput uvoda u Ravelov Bolero, odzvanja u glavi čitaoca, insistira, traži od majke buđenje iz košmara u bezOčnom i bezOtačnom svetu.
Postoji izuzetno snažan deo sa androginom zmijom.
Zmija je duboko povezana sa delom o ocu.
Nepostojanje kralja u tvom životu je izgradilo strukturu sklonu otporu prema muškom delu sveta. I prepoznavanje sebe kroz mušku snagu, uslovno rečeno, zarobljenu u žeskom telu.Otuda i emotivni adinitet usmeren ka ženama. Nedostatak živog oca, kukavice bez odgovornosti, sa jedne strane, polarizuje ličnost, jer, sa druge strane, postoji velika doza ljubavi prema pomenutom kralju, otuda istovremena mržnja što inicira ambivalentne emocije, samim tim i stihove. Bes je usmeren ka muškom rodu, dok je bes prema žnama okrenut samo prema onim primitivnim, dubinski glupim i izopačenim, odnosno, onima koje svojom ličnošću zasluže.
Isus je Otac, ali onaj kakav bi otac trebalo da bude. Ustani, devojko! Isus kakvog znamo iz Novog zaveta. On bodri, oprašta i ne osuđuje. On više voli grešnu decu, prostitutke, revolucionare, lopove, od mlakih ljudi.
Ali, ona ne želi zaštitu od zla. Ona smatra sebe dovoljno snažnom da se suprotstavi zlu, ali, ne samo to, ona prihvata zlo kao deo sebe, što bi rekao Njegoš, zlo činiti, od zla se braniti, tu zločinstva nema nikakvoga
Interesantan je i izbor lokacija. Noćna mora ih sama bira….Ako je san-košmar kompromis ega i superega, biće da je nizanje slika svemir za sebe i u sebi gde ne postoji ni prostor ni vreme.
Tematski sjajno podeljena, tvoja poema je krug koji se sklapa i rasklapa, može poszojati samostalno, ali kao celina deluje zaokruženo i dobija pravi smisao.
Ljubodrag Stojanović, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73i-fGeWBUo, književnik i pesnik, Objavio dramu Srpska Priča (2002), i zbirku aforizama I lud i zbunjen (2009). Zastupljen u brojnim štampanim i elektronskim antologijama sa poetskim i proznim radovima.
Poem Of Babel, Leila Samarrai
NAHUA
It is a place of seven caves
Somebody calls me by my name.
It was the Hueyapan vicar:
“Diego”, – he told me – down there in aztatltlan(tli), the Nahua tribesmen
Cut people up
In pieces.
A sacrifice, Diego, it is a sacrifice.
Chicomostoc… (rhythmic drumming)
Rabbi Isa, Rabbi Isa… (rhythmic drumming intensifies)
RICHARD THE CANNIBAL KING
He took rothers and left the stede, that is the King!
The Cannibal King, For the King is the great power
that overpowers the great power that overpowers
the powers the great power
that overpowers the great power that overpowers the powers
Unis,Unis, Unis
Mother, mother, Mother who is Father, awaken me!
Fear not the nightmare, my child, but sing praises to her(demonic laughter)
SUDD MA’RIB
Selena is reading the spells from the Book of the Moon
Blood, my heart, my bill, me in a pool of blood
Ruinous, violently, I bounced my moist body
Towards the tambourine stars
u sudd Ma’rib, la ciudad perdida, *The lost city (esp)
my bane, in the pit, an engine-maker, a prophet, my salvation
mydeca, are – pr – pour.. pour, pour..
my blood
my bane
my heart
my salvation
Abwûnd’bwaschmâja *Our Father, Aramaic
Abwûnd’bwaschmâja
And to this the Rabbi told me:
Talita kumi. *Stand up, lass, Aramaic
l’ahlâmalmîn. *Amen.
L’ahlâmalmîn.
EGYPT
Yet another dream…
I was born
The Goddess of Air and Invisibility
I was born and died a virgin of the Ogdoad
me, Amunet, the female hidden one
the androgynous goddess, the serpent, the lesbian
goddess of graves and coffins
and the moonlight cast by Iah made my dream illumined
I am the nightly vision written of in Anacreontea
Take me to your bedding, if you want your woman to love you
Your hands quiver, but they know how to caress
Kiss that bit of the body where my eyes divert
Of the tombstone
In the dark land, in a bloodied area, in the riverbed
You will be reborn
In the Ogdoad, you will be reborn
In the sudd Ma’rib, you will sing thy love and thy life.
TALITA KUMI!
Fear mourned me
Horror clawed at the cheeks
The spasm of fear is as hard as a quince
(love is a bone breaker, the Dream is interrupted)
SERBIA
“I know what I’ll do. I’ll give you a drachma!”
While the landlady waves with the electricity bills in hand
She’s looking at me as if I were her lamb meant for the slaughter
but, I am a she-dreamer of beautiful lips
Jesus understands me, we speak the same tongue
Amunet understands, she would hold me in her generous embrace
The cities understand, the blindness understands, the blood of the innocents understands
While I cast the curse of the fiery tongue on the Daemonion
After I’ve sacrificed my own world to the world outside
She burned at the spot, bills in hand and all…
O, how we do not forgive our debtors.
And glory be to the hellish tower of slaves!
glory! Amen oh Babylon
I walk thy streets, bare and free
Rabbi Isa, deliver me not from Evil.
Ljubodrag Stojanovic, on “The Artists” story by Leila Samarrai
What I exceptionally like in your writing, is the top dislocation of epochs and people, an erudite toying with the documentary and imaginative, unpredictable, magnificent imagination and brilliant dialogues. No need to be Tagore to enter the ruins of your worlds and mazes, where Mozart and Trier face, as well as Wagner and Bach or Bachs. You use time and space as toys, sometimes as means but not an end (goal), well before limbo in which, in fact, does not exist. In your necropolis living people live their lives, while dead or inanimate are walking the streets, and these dislocations seem quite convincing, realistic, and even logical. Such writing and you as the author, deserve much greater number of readers, because the fate of the poem-letters-the story is not to remain silent nor the fate of brilliant writers to be silenced.
Ljubodrag Stojanovic
http://www.alma.rs/autori/lj-stojanovic.html
Leila's blog 