Uncategorized

Serbia

“I know what I’ll do. I’ll give you a drachma!”
The landlady waves the electric bill,

eyeing me as if I were her lamb meant for slaughter,
but I am a she-dreamer of beautiful lips.

Jesus understands me, we speak the same tongue.
Amunet agrees, and envelops me in her generous embrace.

The cities understand, the blindness sees,
the blood of the innocents still flows as I cast

the curse of the fiery tongue on the Daemonion
after I’ve sacrificed myself to the world outside.

She burns at the doorstep, bills in embered hand…
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.

prison

Standard
leila, proza

Imprisoned Beauty – Poem by Leila Samarrai

e63070d6ba1a6ba240f1477ea3f85089

http://poemlist.com/?mode=poem&id=1358674

Imprisoned beauty
In three layers poured
During a hellish night

Helen,
Intrigue ate you
And Erinyes
In turbulent water
Tongue burns from gall

Trojan woman,
Shave your beards!
And you shall see truth:
Shackled naked bodies
Stumble through underground passages.

Through myths
My death
Will be the eternal memory
Of sun’s fiasco.

Standard
proza

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.

Standard