Category Archives: proza

proza

sweatin’ like a whore in church

O, Rahab
bitch of Jericho
you’re an audio pickup
(Hear the sound of church bells in the background)

disheveled
with beaming eyes
for some yokels from the Le Roncole play das Triumphmarsch
for her Venus mound
sweatin’ like a whore in church.

Her fingers are calloused from jewelry
their fingers are stripped of jewelery
sunk deep into Rahab’s vacuum,
descending to fill in her gap

a rasées bitch
a woman, a sinner, a saint, a church
Eva, the mother of all men

O, Rahab!
indeed you are born
under the walls of Sodom where your litter were kissing
while the sulfur was slightly splashing an undulating, wavy sea.

In the Promised Land.

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poetry, proza

Thus spoke my mother, Leila Samarrai

Thus spoke my mother.

Seek no longer the soil
Forgotten among the trees
Under which you were born

In the chosen night
When the grasshoppers flew away from the terraces
Into the heap of voices filled with hatred
Directed towards me

Silent mother
Not even a sound to flicker within me
How could I have known
About the other side of maps

Are they coming yet to take me
Rooted in the last morning of a bullet

I arise barefoot
The sea is frightened
Like ground from thunder

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horror, poetry, proza

Master and Servant, Leila Samarrai

“For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.”, Matthew 13:13

Strange and for me, shameful, hypocritical, let’s say, paradoxical  Bible quote, but what else to be expected from the tax collector. This should be a motto of every bank in the world… written in bold letters, to bath the counter desk with the sacred meaning.. 

SERVANT
Matthew,You, Master, with prostitute blessing,
look at ME!
If I pay Caesar what belongs to him and to God his due,
What is left for me?
How do I pay next time?
You place your head on holy ground…look up!
Are you the One who blesses only the rich?
Are we not blown in the same winds?

MASTER
No! No.
Go to church brave Esther
To esteemed pillars of Jerusalem
Plunge your sword in alchemy of truth and lies
Are you hungry enough to think you’ve fallen?
Did they make you believe you are so low?
Your deeds glorify thy righteousness
How ridiculous to be well read and hungry!
Let their empty hearts speak, spill gold
Believe in me, when empty hearts speak
When your eyes are gouged out, believe in me
Forgive those who do not have–
And reconcile the human injustice.

Oh Matthew, still, you hide.

.

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poetry, proza

The Spark Of Life, unedited

I had too much tragedy in my life, that I was, unfortunately, used to being abandoned and betrayed by people who have no business abandoning me and betraying me, and that I  have also trusted people who have let me down.  Also I’ve developed friendships with people who have taken advantage of my kindness. I have been used and abused but I still continue to show my strength and my spark for life.

 

I reached out for the moon
with a hand that caressed brightness
I reached out for a rose
with a hand that caressed thorns
And I blessed Brutus and Judas
I kissed their wickedness
my hands were slain,
and their knives were laughing
And I let my blood to flow
into river no one has ever seen
where I was drowning myself, my tears, better to say…
with them I efflorescented my ordinary sorrows

My betrayers have escaped
and their scoundrels went off
They slipped out of blood with deft of guileful

The moon is darkened
the moon is darkened
with the treacherous skill
while they guarded their misdeed

I tore off a rose petal
the other
and the third
all their green youth

I picked up…

The first blackguard
the second
then the third

I became Mars
I became iron
I became stone

with myself
I branded wretches
villains, hypocrites and scoundrels
with myself
I kissed an evil ones
and hugged all the wiles
and toads, and idolaters
Still

My heart goes out to innocent blood
My heart goes out to tender hearts
My heart goes out to spark of life

 

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poetry, proza

Poem 1 of the The Exorcise Trials: Leila Samarrai

Exorcise Trials

Poem 1

1

ME

You dare to talk about the psyche?
You think I lack stamina for twenty-five push-ups?
What do you know of a woman?
Are you thinking of Psycho as Isolde
Or Juliet perhaps?
The ones who received Aphrodite’s curse
To be beautiful, but lonely?
She’s a vengeful bitch
But still so pretty…
Now go and look where her hands are…
I, The Goddess Of Yelling, I… scream
DIE and dumbbells drop
They call me Dame Judi Dench of the gym
I cut off The Venus’ limbs with my voice
Inside I’m just a few pieces of broken statue
I want to be like Aphrodite of Milo
To be sold to the French at a good price
If only some farmer from Melos had unearthed me
Like her, I’d be in the Louvre, beautiful and exposed
Instead I sweat and toil in a man-made gymnasium
Counting to ten over and over

Aphrodite de Milo:

Dear Sister

I have a part of the left hand and an apple
I am Eva, now, immovable
with lust in this boring paradise

That is my trial.

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aphorism, proza

Thank God I’m an atheist. “The Pigs Have Flown, Now What?”, 2014

Thank God I’m an atheist.

Dante, Hell is in the wrong direction.

Peace in the heart is the salvation from demons.

I am buying love.
VAT excluded.

All I need in life are love, prayers and financial support.

Give me the truth and beauty! I will ruin them all.

Beautiful women are walking through the city. Ugly one and through the city and through the rain and through all storms.

And death has a secret hiding place.

Screw a country full of pigs in which I am eager for meat.

The truth about ourselves we always find on the surface.

The only way for forgiveness is the path which remains walkable for others, too.

A man remembers if he will, but a man forgets if he can.

Constantly invoking the memories recalls oblivion.

Culture is not for trade!

One guest for three days as well as one wisdom in an hour.

In focus of the lens, which gathereth the sun’s rays, the light is converted into a fire, the fire ignites, and flame quenches thirst of the avenger as water extinguishes the fire.

Yes, good people, can find fulfillment and purpose through love, warmth and sentimentality.

God bless, the devil said

People believe that there is no difference between intelligence and wisdom. I can not agree with that, because I have met a lot of intelligent cretin in my life, but I have never met the smart moron.

I know a man who believes he is intelligent enough to be able to afford the luxury of becoming a cynic.

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