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.
Lovers
I’m not an intelligent lover. My romance isn’t practical, it’s not pragmatic. I love like stars, balanced by their own mass and their thermonuclear fusion. I’m desire restrained by – what- reason? The things you have to say out loud to make it make sense to another person? When I love we are all the heart of a dying supermassive star, everything around us becomes fuel for our gravity. You are drawn to us. The event horizon of us changes you forever. We’re the ever studied black hole. The ever compelling supernova. Enigmatic and Charismatic.
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsTo Be ; To Become
I am never nothing, I am endless. Even when I do nothing but draw breath, I am the second law of thermodynamics. I am. So then, can I ever do nothing? Is that death? Maybe, but in death, I am fodder for life. I am holy ground for the silent and scorned. I am the Birth of lives I will never see, of generations of organisms whose ancestors watched my ancestors become.
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsWhat I learn from Orbit
How is the Earth not bored? Earth has seen the same star for almost 5 billion years. Does Earth not wonder what it’s like to spin like Mars? Is the Earth never curious about the jewelry of Saturn?
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsAnd what do we say to the God of Death?
And what do we say to the god of death? We say thank you, Uncle, Father Time would have spent so many years lonely without you. Two titans of existence who do thankless and unenviable work. The little brother of the cosmos. He and my Mother -Earth, life itself – working together to balance every being I’ve ever loved and loathed.
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsdReAm
I dream again. I am not a conscious dreamer. I cannot tell you I’m dreaming until I’ve woken up. Every dream I have may as well have happened. So loose is my tether to the understanding of the world. I close my eyes into my night and wake up in a friend’s car on rusted train tracks. The air smells green and tastes like rebellion. The tracks rumble and I see how it could end but I know, somehow I know, I don’t die here.
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsBridging Worlds Under the Starry Night
In a world of stars and cosmic delight, I met an alien one clear starry night. With curious eyes and a puzzled frown, They asked, "What's it like, in your Earthly town?"
Bianca LanePublished 7 months ago in PoetsInfinitesimal
a microscopic invasion, stealthily enters the equation ~ dark blobs form immediately destroying healthy bonds repeatedly
Lamar WigginsPublished 7 months ago in PoetsReprisal
He's feral like a wild animal gone rabid. He's agile like a predator that's taken to flight. He's savage like a lit fuse about to implode. He's primal like a retina that's lost its precious sight. A heathen that's always on reconnoiter. I can't escape for that would destroy the established order. You lead this domestic dance with every step on my hand. A fascist general with a strategy and a plan. I'm on borrowed time that's been given little by little. Grateful for crumbs from a table that's too afraid to meddle. Weakness shown to your master has gone down sharp. I thought I'd be spared but you never miss your mark. You dictate with your fists and your fury. Another day of wrath and another night of misery. A death sentence has been singing in the wind. A headstone in the making for the grave I'm dancing in. A disturbance is a substitute for this heated vendetta. You created this feud all for an elaborate operetta. Acts of sedition are quickly put out by confusion and reason. The rebellion in me has erupted into a pointless treason. Digging my way out like a zombie out of the frozen ground. Compromising my womb like a coffin being lowered without a sound. I've repented from devils and demons and remain unredeemed. I've atoned from blissful incoherence and still give out my apologies. I've mourned the audacity and the frightened nerves I haven't collected yet. The grief balances on a tight rope but marches to a deafening drum set. In the darkness we slumber but I never descend much. Blinding ambition keeps me alive but I am misfortune untouched. Mating in the moonlight with claws and fangs exposed. We don't live with regrets but have plenty of scars to unload. They know fear but I know entrapment and a razor wire fence. Bound to cowardice dressed in a suit that lives to offend. These are the rules that I obey with my body and my tongue. Primal are the instincts and urges he has but sadly, I have none
Anna TorresPublished 7 months ago in PoetsWhat Do I Dream Of?
What do I dream of at night when I sleep? Stories that make me smile, Or stories that make me weep? Do I see the stars shining?
Carol TownendPublished 7 months ago in Poets- Top Story - September 2023
Feeling Forgotten…
Ever since I was born, I was welcome—- I was happy. Until then, two years later— I have become flawed. A Flawed— An Outsider—
Meghan LeVaughnPublished 7 months ago in Poets OBSTACLES
Going through the obstacles It will make you who you are…. Life will give you ups & downs Up to you you’ll see how far….
Haychie_ArtistPublished 7 months ago in Poets- Runner-Up in Extraterrestrial Challenge
Sonnet X51
Shall I compère thee through a summer’s day? In balmy climes the Earth shows her best face. Although our ultraviolet levels may
Ben HenleyPublished 7 months ago in Poets