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 Struggle Is Real
The struggle is definitely real.... Working extra hard and not getting anywhere has me not knowing how to feel.... Complete strangers don't hesitate to stare with true disgust.... This atmosphere makes me walk around wondering who I can and cannot trust.... You have to be careful when living out here in the street.... You never know who you can cross paths with or who you can meet.... You see the devil comes at you in every color, shape, and size.... You better choose wisely on which vessel you decide to despise!
Charles ZitzowPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFailings of Man
Failings of Man Perhaps it’s pathetic to a degree That her coy-ness has sprung me In vigor and esteem The old wise man’s caution
Jordan WilliamsPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Drowning Rose
Have you ever seen a rose drown in a pond? Have you seen how at first it still holds on? It sits at the top while its surroundings try to bring it down,
Ironic Recipes
I know a lot about knowing nothing. Found all I needed in all I lost. I'm letting go of holding on, cause I’ve built foundations from hanging castles. I’m excited by numb faces... I speak to their silence and jump like I hear replies. While you ask rejection for a dance cause the steps of acceptance are too predictable.
Henry WellingtonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDark Line
Twisted up, And running blind— Wasted ashes left behind, Crumbled words Lay at my door— Silent footsteps, Nevermore...
Ron WalkerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsI Know Who You Were With Tonight
I know who you were with tonight. He seems he comes from angels spawned from Michelangelo. He has the eyes of a sailor who’s seen the dark pit in the ocean.
Hustle
Flames engulf the hands of father time - i lose my place, while injecting shadows, darkness spills across my space- when the demons whisper,
Ron WalkerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFortress
Fortress. I see it that way, with heavy doors and gate keepers, well, the bouncers, pulling glass doors with an extra grunt.
Untitled
Like Aphrodite’s perilous steps that found her fallen in the traps of love Adonis was whitened flesh, Deceased delicacy, bipolarity, in gentle
Lunaneres /Published 7 years ago in PoetsBranded
Spare the rod, and spoil the run- look into my eyes, and fall- entranced from staring at the sun, we burned the writing
Ron WalkerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFollow
Are we to see the world through the eyes of our leaders or with the souls of our ancestors? Is there a time when we close the doors of brainwash and open the journals of truth?
Dawn IrenePublished 7 years ago in PoetsLoves Betrayal
Love's Betrayal Disgrace, guilt, shame, pity, and sorrow. Happiness, joy, peace, reverence, and gratitude. All pass in moments too small to measure. Just as the whole of our lives are mere glimpses.