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.
Wires Crossed
Static flickering, like a worn old TV, between the malicious words she said, and the care he so ignorantly pled. White noise, empty shell, is this hell? Where did I go? Love begs 'don't let others eat away at you.', hurting head with my broken heart; bleeding black, especially after dark. Eyes unfocused, she's half dead. Nobody knows what's on her mind, the poison that seeps through the valleys to redefine. A constant battle wages on, taking it's toll on this pawn. Can't do simple things that everyone makes seem so easy, she needs back a sense of routine. Some time to be free without attacks and unease. Sunshine spotlight, take away my stage fright. Liquid courage releases the nervous grip of her confines. Though no blade was cast, her mind played tricks on me, leading her to believe this is the genuine she, but not what her worlds want her to be. Headache, and heart break, words are a dangerous tool. Toss your opinions into the autoclave; try something f*cking new. Get out of your self imposed box, and SEE. I'll stand in a daze, for days, conflicted and torn in both ways, by some hypocritical entity. How can she be me, when she is not free? Hardness snakes it's way into life so soft and meek, everywhere she looks, every thing she sees; there is even hardness plaguing the clouds as the tepid sun tries to shine through. Will her heart be the next to harden, just as the way she speaks? I am more me, but she's lost in the tangles of the crossed, not a balance to be seen.
By Melissa Oros5 years ago in Poets
Just the Two of Us
She's one in a million, but that's the problem. No sense of delicacy in the unique. No one wants a change of scenery when it comes with such melancholy. Not a word escapes without consequence, always drenched in negativity, when times are changed. A new pill to swallow, a pun, you see? Her and me. Everything is making me just a little bit crazy. Bit my tongue to disguise the wicked words that arise, now all I taste is bloody lies. By omission, I suppose. There it is, lying steady, broken on the floor instead of me. The truth. Somehow, I still wonder who I am supposed to be. It hits, all this preaching of sonder, but now I know the truth. It must be me. The fault cracking society. The painful weight upon your shoulders, the stabbing in your chest; for when I see...it crushes me. Rendered lonely, ached when no one heeds thy call. I truly must not see! To be so greedy! All this time, I've been blind. Someone, please, set me free.
By Melissa Oros5 years ago in Poets
