prose, Uncategorized

Writer

When you have stories, you always have your family. They will always be your priority. Your responsibility. And a writer… a writer writes. And he does it even when he’s not appreciated.. or respected… or even loved. He simply bears up,.. and he does it… because he’s writer.

www.facebook.com/leilasamarrai7

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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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