surreal poetry
Surrealist poetry embodies the essence of poetry itself, drawing upon shocking imagery and lyrical incongruities to comment on the inner-workings of the mind.
Still Losing
Where... could this be. Death its fully plausible...I feel no emotions except for a vague and distilled version of confusion. I can see two lights through the fog of my mind. My eyes? I float over to get a view of the outside. You still are beside me. Never did you go. The faint feeling of confusion is gone. Drums I hear drums.Where. I watch your facial expression do you hear the beat? The sound is so vivid I feel something. A strong passion is brewing from my soul I burst. With that I am alive again. You seem shocked. With all your might you try choking the life out of me. I run towards the sound. Where is the sound. You scream at the top of your lungs ''Never will you go!'' Every muscle in my body wants to prove you wrong. Only how? Where.
By Natasha Marie Aguirre4 years ago in Poets
Still Dying
Pugnent. Disgusting repulsing devastating revolting the stench of my old rotting flesh is overwhelming I must of been dead for more than a few days I slow myself down to look back your screams seem to be gone maybe I am safe my tired bones need rest so I sit. Where is the sound that was played so feverishly that not even my carcass could ignore... suddenly I hear the beating begin this time louder than before I must be nearby my feet rapidly soar toward its direction I can only live for this harsh sound. I see a man, his face is painted in a red substance, his eyes fierce and steady instantly I am in love. His foreign skin and figure something new at least to me and I could only live for him and his creation of such inexplicable noise. But he won't have me. My decomposing meat was.. Disgusting repulsing devastating revolting pugnent.
By Natasha Marie Aguirre4 years ago in Poets
Life's a Masquerade
A wise gospel singer sang these very thought provoking verses that went like this. “Life’s a masquerade filled with so many faces, faces that aren’t so real, hearts that really cannot feel. It is my desire to be more like you each day and that is what I pray for, but there is something that is leading me further astray.”
By David Thomas4 years ago in Poets
