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.
Restless
Sleep, sleep Mind without color; Be still, the cradle rocks. Peace, peace The world still slumbers On the breaths of lonely stars.
Kendi StonebergPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Time
Life, so short, yet seems like it's taking forever We live life as though we own it and decide it But we fail to neglect life's worst enemy, Time.
Harydo NeonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsYou Put the Con
You put the con in conversation You are with my words While my words are with you And your words trade your head for mine
Disturbed
I need some substance reluctantly ready trying to keep my hand steady my body now feels heavy in two minutes flat I am prepared to flatline
Marc McAlisterPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Wakened
The Wakened I. Waking up from a slumber enveloped in a haze of Seroquel, The apathetic sloth of a homosapien feels more akin to a bi-polar bear.
Kourtney RisherPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTake a Tip From the Man
Take a tip from the man Mr. Uncle Sam Don’t believe all you hear When they tell you where to steer Shift Change gears Floor it
Life
Sometimes life isn't all it seems It stages itself as though all it did was blossom No one warned that the blossom bore forth thorns
Harydo NeonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsYes It Is
HEARD IT GOT A LITTLE ROUGH OUT THERE COLD AND LONELY LIVING IN DESPAIR WIPE YOUR TEARS STEP INSIDE CLOSE YOUR EYES GOODNIGHT
David AvnerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsSmeared Lipstick
Her eyes dash towards the sight line rust A static human current motioning away She, a rose so red the pigment bleeds Ten harpy songs arranged in order of chaos
Broke PoetPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Bathroom Stall
I see the writing on the wall, It's a dirty fucking stall, Filled with sick and twisted things, Seen only in psychotic dreams.
Christina SamplePublished 7 years ago in PoetsKindred Souls
kindred souls heads banged together till they injured skulls and the hindrance here has taken its toll and all this distance is digging my own hole my own ignorance is stopping me from being whole and so there is no difference in staying cold like I used to be but now I'm old truth be told I ain't never felt nobody care solitary looking round for someone there all on my jacks but I ain't scared, might not be fair but its all ways been the same, all I hear is air I guess I will never change so who's to blame probably me from the endless nights of no shame bare chatting shit with different heads it is no game them people I love I ain't mentioning no names the fact I don't tell them enough I'm so ashamed some of them I have never told in my chest it pains but I would sooner live a colder life than burn myself with flames
Mistar RamrossPublished 7 years ago in PoetsSilent Music
In the square white room I will spred my arms like wings in the dark corners of the night to shelter you from the cold In the square white room I will spred my arms like wings
Elsa Johanna WallanderPublished 7 years ago in Poets