Trying to get revenge is also giving the bastards a negative supply. I don’t bother with forgiveness or that concept with a few people, because it would be like forgiving a rock. A rock has no feelings. What works for me is looking at them in pity. At some point what kind of person could be so cruel to a good person or a person who had a good, kind heart? Some people are just cruel and I, we don’t need them. I am someone who is intelligent, capable and can have an amazing life. Why spend one more minute of my time focusing on someone who has abused me so toxicly and has actually caused me to come to the point that I want to take revenge on it. Not good.. Also, revenge is never free. It always has its cost. And I am a poor woman 🙂





Cynical yellow thunder tears with rays
The parching earth – dry and infertile

I – Messaline!
Declare war to all the barren blacks
Who do not birth!
I summon Poseidon to impregnate
My mortal body with immortal progeny!
I summon the Heavens to bow down to my tentacles
Folded into a clenched fist!
I curse all the virgins racked by my woe
Fall to your knees before the filthy breed!
Beg to be fertilized by their pagan ritual!
Kiss their wounded feet
Like you will kiss your children!
Beg for one more drop of life
Which will violate your dishonorable body!


I – Messaline!
I am fire above all fire!
An untouched flower of the Sultan’s garden
The scepter in the hand of the powerless king
Cleopatra’s pyramid sank into mud
The carnival of appetence without masque
Twilight that dawns on an intact hip
The lust of Eve in the boring Eden
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.


I am Hyperborean, Atlantean


I am a Hyperborean living in Serbian land.
I am an Atlantean living in Serbian land.

I have fed hundreds of swans flying, I have fed
Hundreds of swans flying. I embrace
The pillars of Hercules, I am an inspiration
To the writings of Plato and Ignatius Donnelly.
I am a visitor to the magnificent Garden of Eden.
I kiss earthly gold and walkthrough the ocean.
I am the queen of Egypt. I am a teacher,
Showing Phoenicians their alphabet.

We mock the poor Hyperboreans, dreaming of
Thrace’s winds. BUT In one horrible day we died, Trampled by a hairy brethren of elephants. In one Horrible day and one night, we sank into the ocean, Lost in poverty, lost in war, Lost in fear, veiled and Suppressed by men, struggling, remembering.
I was once a Hyperborean woman
Who fed her swans, watching them fly in the wind.
I did not die in a world of myths, I was once defense
Counsel at The Battle of Thermopylae. Apollo used Me to spread his doctrine to other nations.

Since then no one has ever seen me,
I’m still waiting for her to become.

I am a Hyperborean living in Serbian land.
I am an Atlantean living in Serbian land.
poetry, proza



Submerged in the depths of my misery
I see no light nor exit,
but I resist to abandon myself
in the Entropy’s welcoming arms
as such an easy defeat
would seem fair,
after having fought against my own personal enemies,
I shall not surrender so easily
I’ll keep on fighting until the end,
as I am Life
and as such,
I shall live with dignity until my day comes,
when I’ll leave this world
with empty hands
but a soul full of love and courage.


Rape Poem, Leila Samarrai

Have you ever been raped?
Have you ever dreamt of love while gouging out your eyes?
Has anyone ever drooled saliva onto you, like a demonic dog?
Has anyone’s large lanate limb ever poured into you?
Has anyone ever said to you, Bitch, you asked for it?
Have you ever been impaled by a man’s spawning seed?
Have you ever been a Turk’s abased experiment?
Has anyone ever called you an abomination of Eve?
Has anyone ever stuffed you like an apple on a spear?
Has anyone ever ripped out your steady beating heart?

Have you ever been raped?
And your bloody lips sang a grotesque song?
And you were cracked open like a clam without the pearl?
Until your uterus pushes out mangled stumps?
And you hold something heinous in your hands?
Until hanging jaws depart into darkness?
Threads of existence are cut and stuffed
And your flesh was resisting?
And your bones were weeping?
And your body was screaming?
Until your womb erupts?
Oh my beautiful face
In deep dark chambers of my heart
Where rats patrol
My flax hair is gone
I am a masterpiece of mad genius
Of the Master of Light
I hide my face in shadows
I’m a starving slave to the Ripper
While blazing gunshots sear my brain
And I pick decaying matter off my skin
I’m extracted from the horny goat’s seed
And licked by his rough bleeding tongue
It’s nothing but the call of a mangled mind
I am that hacked hemisphere of meat
My pulchritudinous petals reach up for light
And they come to me like flies to rotting meat.
A bacchanalian bellowing beast
I am that wrenched woman

So I mature like a corpse flower
My pulchritudinous petals reach up for light
And they come to me like flies to rotting meat.

This is the world of lies
Of thirsty angels who die
While still appearing angelic
They’ve lost their shine

Have you ever been raped?
You should join me like a vampire
You’ll be bitten for a limitless life
For a never ending night of screeching sodomy
Yelling screaming crying barking
Blood sweat tears fragments
Whose Hell do you choose?
Are you too a raped bitch?

Sun… Please… Father?

Leila Samarrai Green

horror, poetry



I am watching the sea that I will never see
In this accursed hamlet,
I describe the sluggish steps of Kings
sneaking by palaces at Samarra
Which will never whisper
I recognize the images of distant landscapes
in the verse that does not unveil itself to me
There is no nature in poetry
she is sick of the three pens and mangled alphabet.
Her belly is swollen
There is no promised land to continue towards
on one’s pilgrimage
I am dust, bloated and greedy

With this departure from the country of poetry, with a smile of a crying child
answer me, chimera that glides between my rows and my trenches
Be honest, the deep illusion with elephant diphtheria and malignant disease
three lines before the end of.. this, before your affluence rots
and your garments are devoured by moths, INTER NOS,
is it possible for anything to be minisculeto dust?


Veni at me… sed wicked… Climax non est!




poetry, proza



(18 versos)

La más prudente, divina, presionada con el desprecio
Oh poetisa de los frágiles, este mundo que lideras
Evangelios sensible con la fuerza de relámpago derrumbas,
Deformas, doblas, aterras y creas
Decididas festejaban musas celosas
Naturalmente te envenenan con este ruido insensato
No hay cosa más triste que el ajetreo horrible
Paralas masas enloquecidas con suspiros y alegrĂ­a
Mientras el cielo en su malevolencia arde
Más inocente tú eres
Cada vez más que en el fondo del verso pases
Eres la magia que al deseo del satisfacer escapa
En el jardĂ­n de lo azul ornamental tĂş quedas sosegada

Que más ridículo esté el desprecio tuyo
Que hacia la ofensa deambulĂł
Los cielos infernales se vuelven,
Y la tierra mancos asquerosos lleva encima
Tú virgen santísima, ¡ornamento cada aniquila!


Love, do you believe in love?, PART ONE

I, invisible goddess, I envy unloved goat-nymph
on Greek islands
Let me and my invisible do more harm to visible
unlanguage me, but do not make me play the harp to Harpy
Her name is Love.
Hear me mortal’s. twist your sights
demigods, taste my riptide
wrought pen of magic fire
On behalf of this sword and in the name of the ocean
the tides are turning, love is changing her place
the Love is not looking for a place under the sun
the Love does not seek the city under water
the Love does not get the wrath of Poseidon
Hecate, I am diving into the fog, for I see your monsters
in the mist …
Love, do you believe in love?