Post by Roshan on Aug 15, 2020 18:40:40 GMT -5
I wrote this in 2005. I've put in links for reference and tried to find succinct ones or at least ones where the vital information comes first. If you read the short link for "Princess Leila", it should clarify the non-linked references. Of course it's impossible to convey all the complexity in links.
Leonard Hotel near Marble Arch
(Descent into Irkalla)
Open the leaves of morning’s door.
-Morning Prayer of Imam Ali
Princess Leila, Leila-joon
They have scattered all the stones
that you gathered for them faithfully.
And they’re gone now, all of them.
What a fine June night to take a walk.
To step into your sister’s arms who
waits for you at Marble Arch.
She’s been waiting far too long
Stumble to her in the dark
but soft my sweet insomniac.
Rest assured, but rest forearmed
This is no valentino runway.
And anyway, you’re far too thin.
It’s right that you refused their seeds.
This is no styx. There are no men
on chariots to pull you in.
(Nor shahbahnous to fetch you).
Still better take some nourishment
for if you do not come back up
good doctor iqbal’s r and x’s
will get all the credit.
Which only feeds the status quo
–-those coroners what do they know–
and this is no connecticut. Come,
take your sister’s medicine.
Now down the hatch we go.
Welcome to Irkalla dear.
Strange no man’s land.
Here are no salad days at brown
no birds no poems no peacock thrones
to dream you more of their irans.
But only sister’s loving hands.
You see how low she bows you, how deftly
she removes your crown. And
you thought they had done so. Let’s
undress the true wounds now.
Princess leila, leila-joon
You’re nothing but a bag of bones.
Strange strange karbala.
That was the first gate.
And seven times she’ll strip you blind
and seven you’ll be judged. Not by the ones
of books and stones
but by the searing pangs of a
kind of a driven labour of love.
Sink sleepwalker deep into her slumber
feeding succorless on placenta of grief you can
see how much she grieves,
she
grieves for her consort and
for all the endless dead, convulsive
uncontrollable venom of grief she
grieves because she’s angry, grieves because she’s jealous, because you
left her all alone here to rot in this hellhole maligned forgotten misunderstood stuck in
this godforsaken sewer pit this stinking shithole of a great below while upstairs you rode alpha
romeos with all those lovers you could never love
because you
chose to love only him spewing his megalomanias into the wind part
cyrus part che part errol flynn that party at persepolis boy that was rich
not to mention that ridiculous white revolution you
stupid anorectic bitch what the
hell’s gotten into you
starving yourself for the sake of your fucking father well
here are no fathers but only larvae so
don’t you
dare cry out for him missy when she
hangs you out from her peg to dry your
carcass a slab of maggot-ridden meat whose
flesh eats foetal into the bone it is
forbidden
to cry out
for him for them
we take care of
the forsaking here thank you
listen sleeping beauty
daddy’s little girl
we do the putrefying they
are not answerable we
are the clean-up crew we
are reliable this is
our golgotha our
sacred suicide this is
women’s work lily it is
between you and the
flies
and then in the original myth
the two hermaphrodites fashioned from the dirt beneath the ocean’s fingernails
with
the help of the ever-faithful servant
remove inanna from the butcher's hook
steal her away from her dark sister's home
and waft her back up to the sky.
and you Lady ship
would you too rise
as the sun soaked through your window from Oxford Street
and room service knocked on your door
if I only could have held you in my arms and told you so
as you lay prone in your posh hotel shorn of your cast-off robes how
distended into darkness deep in amniotic fluid sac of gall
the embryo is still born. Darling darling
do not fear the fear for her killing bed
is our wedding bed where her rage shall midwife
the chrysalis of foam, sole alembic from which we emerge
Whole, white goddess, parturient of mourning,
Imam, finally, of our own becoming.
would you take from me this silver tray
of breakfast tea and scones
had I only known you Leila
oh, had I only known
Leonard Hotel near Marble Arch
(Descent into Irkalla)
Open the leaves of morning’s door.
-Morning Prayer of Imam Ali
Princess Leila, Leila-joon
They have scattered all the stones
that you gathered for them faithfully.
And they’re gone now, all of them.
What a fine June night to take a walk.
To step into your sister’s arms who
waits for you at Marble Arch.
She’s been waiting far too long
Stumble to her in the dark
but soft my sweet insomniac.
Rest assured, but rest forearmed
This is no valentino runway.
And anyway, you’re far too thin.
It’s right that you refused their seeds.
This is no styx. There are no men
on chariots to pull you in.
(Nor shahbahnous to fetch you).
Still better take some nourishment
for if you do not come back up
good doctor iqbal’s r and x’s
will get all the credit.
Which only feeds the status quo
–-those coroners what do they know–
and this is no connecticut. Come,
take your sister’s medicine.
Now down the hatch we go.
Welcome to Irkalla dear.
Strange no man’s land.
Here are no salad days at brown
no birds no poems no peacock thrones
to dream you more of their irans.
But only sister’s loving hands.
You see how low she bows you, how deftly
she removes your crown. And
you thought they had done so. Let’s
undress the true wounds now.
Princess leila, leila-joon
You’re nothing but a bag of bones.
Strange strange karbala.
That was the first gate.
And seven times she’ll strip you blind
and seven you’ll be judged. Not by the ones
of books and stones
but by the searing pangs of a
kind of a driven labour of love.
Sink sleepwalker deep into her slumber
feeding succorless on placenta of grief you can
see how much she grieves,
she
grieves for her consort and
for all the endless dead, convulsive
uncontrollable venom of grief she
grieves because she’s angry, grieves because she’s jealous, because you
left her all alone here to rot in this hellhole maligned forgotten misunderstood stuck in
this godforsaken sewer pit this stinking shithole of a great below while upstairs you rode alpha
romeos with all those lovers you could never love
because you
chose to love only him spewing his megalomanias into the wind part
cyrus part che part errol flynn that party at persepolis boy that was rich
not to mention that ridiculous white revolution you
stupid anorectic bitch what the
hell’s gotten into you
starving yourself for the sake of your fucking father well
here are no fathers but only larvae so
don’t you
dare cry out for him missy when she
hangs you out from her peg to dry your
carcass a slab of maggot-ridden meat whose
flesh eats foetal into the bone it is
forbidden
to cry out
for him for them
we take care of
the forsaking here thank you
listen sleeping beauty
daddy’s little girl
we do the putrefying they
are not answerable we
are the clean-up crew we
are reliable this is
our golgotha our
sacred suicide this is
women’s work lily it is
between you and the
flies
and then in the original myth
the two hermaphrodites fashioned from the dirt beneath the ocean’s fingernails
with
the help of the ever-faithful servant
remove inanna from the butcher's hook
steal her away from her dark sister's home
and waft her back up to the sky.
and you Lady ship
would you too rise
as the sun soaked through your window from Oxford Street
and room service knocked on your door
if I only could have held you in my arms and told you so
as you lay prone in your posh hotel shorn of your cast-off robes how
distended into darkness deep in amniotic fluid sac of gall
the embryo is still born. Darling darling
do not fear the fear for her killing bed
is our wedding bed where her rage shall midwife
the chrysalis of foam, sole alembic from which we emerge
Whole, white goddess, parturient of mourning,
Imam, finally, of our own becoming.
would you take from me this silver tray
of breakfast tea and scones
had I only known you Leila
oh, had I only known
