LEILA SAMARRAI

LEILA SAMARRAI

Striving For SURVIVAL,

Along the catacombs

surrounded by whirlwinds of dread

and howls of the killed

and the slaughtered and ready for testing.

– for in the final phase,

some try to resist, an unplanned,

human, nature-provided ability

to shift focus and fear for the bare sense.

The optical ability enhances,

images of merry demons

smiling dance around the iris.

The main phase then ensues,

upon the rapid degradation

of potential to maintain one’s own

I and in this struggle, the eyes expand,

bulging in fear,

staring at the monster,

the shifted human form

which has the same countenance,

but shaded and bloodied with lack of feelings,

whose disgusting, dry mouth open and

utter the Kafkian judgment

This is where the compilation comes

of several entities

pretending to be friends, godsisters and neighbours

in one singular entity,

hostile, radically evil with malicious intent and death in mind -

that I struggle to survive…

and the following sudden departure of a loving being

comes in, a being that uttered a judgment

out of nowhere,

using the nature-given freedom of MAN to think,

to use a flaw in its mind map,

each to his own moral metrics and laws of fidelity,

I struggle to survive

the universal reality consisted of

no more than a handful of cigarette buds

and other than rage at the impotent God

who punishes the good and awards the weak,

something that cannot be known,

but merely believed,

It was soft, hiding spot

I struggle to survive

The ship of illusions that the friendship was possible.

I owed moments of erotic bliss.

Whenever entering my head, with roots, the wind,

the breath of tropical sun,

I struggle to survive my friends, god sisters and neighbors

in one singular entity,

hostile, radically evil with malicious intent and death in mind.

to go in pairs and be bound to a pack,

somewhere out there, on the edge of the lost world,

its monstrosity, but also its shininess,

none will notice it gone or even as having existed,

the light and shadow play will merge with vile contours of envy,

doubt and shame,

A haze, a wave in my thoughts,

a vortex where they wallow

in whirlpools and abysses of the deeps

I struggle to survive

A vision of a lunatic,

a nightmare with a hundred thousand deaths.

Obsession with fear.

An attack of the innocents,

a finger of fantasy pointed at them, listed names.

I struggle to survive

a battle not to disembark the ship of illusions

And when they stick a knife in your back,

everything moans in bliss.

The cowardly lack of will of the people

to stand up against the dictatorship of the benefactor

and peddled at their flaws - I am trying to survive!

To barely get by

a mass of people, conventional shoulder-patting,

well-intentioned advice from good people

Soft, muddy picture,

then the image comes into focus

and a zoom-in of someone’s eyes.

Then the eyes spoke with fiery passion

and that would last for ten seconds

or so on a movie screen.

From the upper corner an unseen ghostly hand

recording what is happening in the writing on the wall

holds a great feast and drinks from the vessels

that had been looted in the destruction of the First Temple. ..

The terrified Belshazzar calls for his wise men,

but they are unable to read the writing.

It says: I struggle to survive.

Everyone who ever hated me,

eating sandwiches and sowing leather jackets

that I pay on a loan,

then all of the things in leather, I cannot even recall all of it.

They filled my suitcase, set aside my things

in it as if they were laying

my corpse in a sarcophagus .

Who are these people?

How come there are so many good intentions in this…

They must have been practising their skills for centuries in...

All those precious things I do to survive.

Unless I Escape In Time.

The Lord said, ‘I have seen my people in bondage, and I have heard their cry,’” “I know their sorrows, and I have come to deliver them from the hand of evil men and lead my people out of that sorrowful place, to a land flowing with milk and honey.”

I say this in voiceover as they carry me through the woods.

To save myself from the abusive plight.

Bone-chilling words I would direct at a wealthier yeoman

or a more ambitious female Moses,

who would come as was her duty,

quivering like a leaf,

to bow down to me and ask for my blessing -

to experience a nervous breakdown,

to cast out my humanity when necessary,

to be raped, beaten,

to endure what it cannot be endured,

to survive my evildoers and the whole twisted nazi society

and to become a blooming superhero.

Mars exult!

behold the cruel patterns of the past and the future.

do not let the premonitions dry up

to be ready to be picked up

in fear of being forgotten,

while a fluorescent streetlight of Jailer

stare at me with a flaming eye. Aflame in anger.

Due to toxic gases .. public hangings are every day.

with prayer, as well as participating in pulling a rope, stoning, too ..

Chaotic stoning all day long

paranoically mumbling to myself – The stones, the damn stones…

To wear the wrong dress, to be fertile Unwoman,

forcing slave to die in poisonous colonies to work

until I fall apart, piece by piece of my body

or be sent as concubine from home to home,

to men with  their tail a third part of the stars in heaven

and on my head a garland of twelve stars

to be raped in an obscene, profane ceremonial ritual

we, girls are raped at 14 while forcing us to pray to the Lord

unreal, maddened eyes sow fear followed by a raging disease and death!

It hurts being clothe with a moon

As that woman about to give birth in front of the dragon

particular misshapen friend

deal a powerful blow,

with a knife in the chest,

and then to devote insane

and grotesque calls

which left me mute a

and in the most horrific of pain

The blade was laid in the carved bone

and the altar, an ancient image of divinity

will speak the tongue of bones tonight.

that.. Being.. Revelation woman..

Her head peeked beyond all countless spirals

painted much in the same manner,

that way putting herself in the center of microcosm

of all-encompassing universality of nature,

becoming a role model for humanity.

My look at the city was one of prison. I

am here – behind bars.

This is a city in the middle of a prison.

Unless I escape in time.

Into the wilderness as is a desolate place

And full of serpents and scorpions,

“travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered”

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.

My mortal body with immortal progeny!

I summon the Heavens to bow down to my tentacles

Folded into a clenched fist!

LEILA SAMARRAI

LEILA SAMARRAI was born on October 19th, 1976 in Kragujevac, Serbia. She writes poetry, short stories, and plays, her work largely containing the motives of fantasy and humour. Her debut collection of poetry „The Darkness Will Understand “won the First prize of the competition organized by the Student cultural centre of Kragujevac in 2002. She has had her work published in numerous local magazines, both in print and electronic form. Some of her notable works include the collection of short stories „The Adventures of Boris K. “by Everest Media and (as co-author and critic) „Poetry Against Terror: A Tribute to the Victims of Terrorism Kindle Edition “. Her works were published in Serbian, Hungarian and English. She has won numerous awards for her written works, including the third place as a representative of Serbia for the aphorism „Stars and Us“ of the „Beleg“ competition and three separate awards in the „3-5-7 – A Story in a Moment“ story competition, as part of the „Helly Cherry“ competition, both in 2011. She currently lives in Belgrade with her five cats. Samarrai uses absurdist and the elements of farce in her plays. She favours surreal short stories, horror fiction, satire and humoresque, enjoying the vaudeville style of structure interwoven with the style of “Pythonesque” stories. Her goal in literature is to weave fantastic realism into horror fiction, as well as utilizing magical realism and the surreal.