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.

Storm Clouds
The trees leaves fell like the thoughts lost in my empty mind, Beckoned Forth towards the force for which I would call Love
By Clintorus Macleod III Esquire 6 years ago in Poets
The Shadows
I open my eyes But I can not move I can hear voices But I can not see faces I look around And see walls with chains What's going on
By H Zane Herrington6 years ago in Poets
What A World
I’m the one to have it both ways. Any way if it’s my way. I could be a little temperamental but I think you like how much I’m into you.
By L.A. ZONIN6 years ago in Poets
Greetingz
Hello ladies, im slow motion, Mellow got you open like car do', Cadillac Pimpin cruisin to Mars yo Ho', stop gawkin at nickas from different galaxies
By Ramiah Spearman6 years ago in Poets
Star Travel BDSM
The Knight, the Lord, the King Spiked lipstick I open to prepare Curtains breeze high heart skips He tells me to move I move
By HypnoticAlchemicat6 years ago in Poets
End of this World
For the time has come to end this world Fire’s food is the fresh ground earth Episodes of lives have unfurled Like the wings of an angel at every birth.
By ShadowedLiar6 years ago in Poets
Pretty Inside while chained inside
A lot of people counted me out while I was in Don’t even have to open my mouth, I brought my pen From DMV down to the south, straight to the kin
By Britnee Duvall6 years ago in Poets
I'll see you in the atmosphere
I’ll see you in the atmosphere 433 light years until I reach Polaris. I began to think how you were like the stars, no longer here, but
By Victoria H6 years ago in Poets
GREY
Scared Scared is what I am when I am in the grey Is it grey or is it gray? Grey is the color of the in between Grey is the bleak feeling of the repetition in life
By Mara Dyer6 years ago in Poets
The party
I am in the kitchen. Seated on the floor, back leaning against the fridge, black and silver party dress on, hi-tops. And my dog Kali on my lap. I am watching all the people come and go.
By hannah beckingham6 years ago in Poets
4AM
4am is the in-between; the time right before the dawn, the time right before the earth wakes up and is bathed in golden hues.
By Chickadee6 years ago in Poets
COVID & PRISON
The violet mercurial moon; it is. Alight and brilliant... hewed in red-green, yellow-blue contemplation... torn asunder; it is. A stippled grayish matter of gravity; it is not... neither balanced or logical, a chaos opposing a portrait of death... but isn't until; it is. Abstract abject tetradic vermillion fear; it lives. A coquelicot addictiveness; is how it exist. Adjunct aureolin lectrurer; its being... but isn't unless; it is. An acrylic angelically breath taking anamorphosis; it feeds...while; it is. A god; it is? Yet it brings sarcoline life to a canvas of obsidian death... but; it is not. Until we can create creation; it is.
By Eric VanBuren6 years ago in Poets