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.

The Sickness We Call Maturity
They tell you not fear change, but how can we deal when things never stand still? Her mind is always spinning, life is unforgiving, one stab after the next. The force sends us flying across the room, a trail of broken darkness in our wake. Why can't I just stay? She screams a cry, shouting hoarse 'OF COURSE!'. Just another day on the dissection tray, the needle stuck scratching it's skippy repeat, being a spectacle for your feat. Look at the innocence run care free, not knowing this illness conceived. Growth is an omission of the truth, hidden from you. Leaving us to cry, every other time we try another hope or dreams dies. What is the point? Don't catch a break, like she caught that ball. One loose screw rattles through the cogs in this machine, slowly breaking clean. What is the point?! Once held true, the line going Northeast from the time we first breathe. Now isn't it funny, there's scholarly proof, time's not linear? Hah! Now the roller coaster ride makes sense! Her stomach is feeling like nonsense, and she's screaming until she cries. One little screw, who knew. Please! Don't undo; I don't like to fly. See here, life as we know it is the sickness we fear. Look around at the bigotry, the blissfully content in low IQ, that color, that name, words spoken in vain, and actions resulting in shame. And so much belief! Belief in that which we cannot see...the imaginary?! Look at the innocence, running carefree; age is a danger, people are all strangers, life exists just to die.
By Melissa Oros5 years ago in Poets
More to Me than the First Piece
Every day stomach sick, sharpness comes, swallow some, but the pain still grows. Synthetic, organic, biologically tearing apart at the seams, falling down over reveries. Chemically drained. Nightmares and torn decisions soak through frail skin. time lost, call it a trance. Or is it just life? Blink, here. Turn, there. Step, next year? Sick sad, lost, mad, elated, explosive. I'm on fire, the building is torn too, yet you still chose the highest quarters. When we fall, all those old faces flee. Collapse? Just for the f*cking TV? Pop your freedom, go to sleep. Sh*t, it's morning, now more pain to reap.
By Melissa Oros5 years ago in Poets
My Mind
It is not easy to write, Cutting open my wounds with a metaphorical knife, I am bleeding on to the page, Too many thoughts in an Authors mind,
By Isabella Vedro5 years ago in Poets
That which cannot be found on the earth.
I sooner sought, I then obtained, No more then what I had already gained, For when such joy is then complete, It all became obsolete,
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Aries
I’ll never forget the day I found you, you looked to be abandoned, at 4 weeks old you were beaming with life but no family, I feel as if you chose me showing up in the middle of nowhere, I grabbed you up cleaned you off then you chewed up my daughter’s teddy bear! For 7 years you’ve been my life companion, and when tragedy struck I thought how could this of happened, a pack of vicious coyotes almost took your life,I found you frozen in blood clinging on to your last light, you were so torn apart, I wasn’t just losing my dog, but a piece of my heart, I fell to my knees and words escaped my breath, I quickly grabbed you up and rushed to the vet, I arrived in a hurry and nothing else mattered, I wasn’t losing my friend my world would be shattered, I was told nothing else to do might as well go home as you were in surgery for hours, it was hard to cope, I arrived the next morning expecting the worst, when I walked thru the door you heard my voice and you let out a burst! My friend was gonna be alright, such a relief I disbursed, you’ve been thru everything with me Aries these last seven years, and I hope for many more but without all the excitement and tears! I love you Aries these words you hear daily, just please stop eating my shoes it’s expensive, it’s ok, but not really.
By Truman5 years ago in Poets
Abacus of Breath
my nervous system is delicate as a catgut string Stradivarius line-of-life between a novice's fingers and a guillotine vibrating, making waves until I batter it, defaced
By ParadoxFox5 years ago in Poets
Evolution
Every day a part of me dies - a part that's decided it can't take it anymore and so it gives up, lets go and dissolves out of my skin and back
By Allyssa Izetta 5 years ago in Poets
Not Necessarily
This isn’t who I’m supposed to be, but I am. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen, but it did. We argue, and we have opinions,
By Craig Johnson5 years ago in Poets
Bounded
Life as a crustacean, must seem pretty hard, to be in a shell your whole life,only coming out to escape the dark, when they do emerge and finally see the sun, it’s a short lived beautiful moment, now its time to run, when in their shell their safe away from danger, then we come out, only to be met by a smiling stranger, been living your life upside down thinking you see smiles but in reality their only frowns, I go back in my shell for it’s the safest place to dwell, they say come on out and have fun, no thanks,I’m fine in my living hell.
By Truman5 years ago in Poets
Intrusive Daydreams
Sometimes they seem innocent enough, A single thought will cross my mind And make me wonder of all the things that could possibly unfold.
By M J Graham5 years ago in Poets
Dream Catcher
Dream Catcher Your eyes is as brown as cinnamon, and your teeth is white as snow. Your skin is a pulchritude of honey, and your smile shows an oily glow. With you illusions is non-existing, and theirs not a fairy-tale beyond your reach. Your presence is present during the day as it is the night, and even when I am awake I feel asleep. Yes you bring me joy now & later, and I always find comfort in your possession. And with you the feeling is more than just a thought; instead it is a more heart-tying connection. Yes with you I will always rise above, and forever will I conquer the Dream Snatcher. And even still today the Universe is asking "why is he always so happy"? I tell them because, my friend is a Dream Catcher...
By Lord Enigma 5 years ago in Poets
Swing Season
The chains continued to sway as the pair left the swings in their residual motion and attached to the poles that anchored them to the earth
By Jeremy L. Hamilton 5 years ago in Poets