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.

Please Return Me To My Shelf
You roughly removed me from the book shelf And began rudely flipping through my pages, No respect for the fact that this is my life
By Colleen Millsteed 5 years ago in Poets
Her Last Line Of Defence
She tried everything to protect her scarred heart But every decade or so there was always that one, They’d break the chains and persistently chip away
By Colleen Millsteed 5 years ago in Poets
Betrayal and Deceit
If the word betrayal was a soft object and you could cut it open,what would be inside? Think about it… What if you put deceitfulness under the same knife? You could probably make a thesaurus and it would be about 300 pages long. It’s almost like reading a dark non-fiction book that could be nominated in a national book award. Both of those words are EXPLOSIVE 🧨. Living in a world full of everything you can and cannot imagine, those words may be necessary. Okay, you see I put “may” which means “unpopular fact.” Deceitfulness is a tactic that has to be learned to go head to head with a chess player that has won every competition thus far. Dealing with a human who can mix the two and use it as power has to be mastered with an unique ability. It is almost funny how I write a story about these two words and it starts to sound like a warning or a survival guide to humanity. Maybe this what happens when you cut open BETRAYAL and DECEITFULNESS..
By Keyseven5 years ago in Poets
The dream is still here
Because the dream is still there, So the sword is broken, the horse is injured, The fog drenched the directions Who is the enemy, who is his people, everything is foggy
By Priyabrataa Ganguly5 years ago in Poets
Monarch
We have such a charismatic leader. One is always right and never wrong. Conceded in defeat, I welcome you with open arms. I aspire to be at your level. Untouchable, such a fearless commander. I acquiesced and capitulated and have gone under. A wormhole of submission. A surrender of all my senses. Oh heroic captain, your captives all lost all their defenses. Assimilation isn’t my strongest suit. Bowing down to your fascist throne. Stripped away of all my power. The top is lonely but you’re never alone. My dark overlord, ruler of all time. You control and hypnotize your followers. You and your death eaters will simply devour us. Progressive antebellum ways, you know what’s best for all of us. Loyal to an unforgiving ruler, history may never forgive us. Like a marionette on strings, you dance around us like you’re a king. We are mistresses for your fickleness. I don’t owe you a damn thing. We surrender like rats to a piper resembling a ringleader. This isn’t your circus. You are not superior. We are not lambs without a shepard. You’re like a concussion to the head. Death follows you like a beacon. I’m choking on the lies I’ve been fed. You play the role of a sadist. I’m under some kind of wicked spell. We fold under your whims. We call home these damp and dirty cells. A spark of divinity. We are your legions of doom. Worshipping your grand design, allegiance to death will arrive soon. We have been judged. We have been brought to the gallows. Your dominion will forever reign. We will die, if you allow us.
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Showed in selflove
My hands had gripped the counter The condensation soaked the walls My heartbeat pounding in my ears No noise to hear, no calls
By BB5 years ago in Poets
Anger Management
Like a spark that brought up to life Lighting away the gunpowder Exhaling it’s last breath It’s last hissing a snake’s ready to charge
By Chacha Jaramillo5 years ago in Poets
Fate
Over there, over there, comes the whisper your dream-land lies near past the dragons in your sleep past the victims of your hunting
By Heather Hagy5 years ago in Poets
Warning Signs
3/9/22 What are the warning signs? When you know things are getting bad again? I say: dissociation, definitely. I mean: my skin is peeling off like the paint in the laundry
By Olivia Dodge5 years ago in Poets
HUNGER
Coming from a place I had Not a lot I’m really glad Could’ve turned out really bad I’m not silly just a tad Grateful had my 9 to 5
By Haychie_Artist5 years ago in Poets
The prelude to mourn.
It was an uncertain time, a time to which the hearts of men went about to and fro, Considering all that is, and all that could inevitably be.
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Jealous Witch
I knew she hated me when he told me what she said in response to him happily telling her about the kind of relationship
By Sarah Jane5 years ago in Poets