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.
Fulcrum Grim
The air is conspiring against me. It’s like the drain of the ocean is commandeering me and sucking me down. I’m only treading water instead of swimming to shore. I’m only gasping for breath instead of preventing a heart attack. It’s a cryptic void that’s attempting to swallow me whole. A collection of drifting embers that is floating to nowhere. I hope for rescue or relief from laborious peril. What lured me out in the first place? I panic internally to keep from surrendering. The tides are unforgiving but so am I. I am isolated from despair and captive to the undertow. All I see are sea apparitions but there’s no where to go. I see phantom ships but they are just worthless vessels. I’m losing the grip on my rope and my precious sanity. I rather sink into the sky instead of absconding into the earth. A Fata Morgana attacks my senses that are already dull. I wish this mirage was an oasis but it’s just a tease. A mimic Atlantis exists just beneath the waves. Circular motion interrupts my vertigo. Lucid fluidity forever interjects between failure and apathy. Where can you flee when all exits are closed? Every direction is the exact same. GPS coordinates hold no sway over corrupted reality. If I let go, I can finally reach this blessed nirvana I so crave. Tranquil meditations will help sever all ties. A choice to whether approach the monsoon or forfeit my longevity. Oxygen has become my enemy. This Plutonian chasm drags me under with its tentacles. I am enlightened from this abysmal purgatory. I have finally reached the horizon. I have finally reached the shore I have sought for so long. I am delivered from this heaving abyss and its holy pit and am now one with the earth
By Anna Torres12 months ago in Poets
Blood Haiku
Captive bodies left in your wake. Captured souls forever walk the plank. I’ve burned these bridges just to watch you die. It’s a shame to waste the light without a proper goodbye. Your belated bones smear your atrocity all over the walls. A blood haiku written before your eventual downfall. Have you seen all there is to see? Have you become the very demon you always hoped to be? Polished entrails erupt out of your cocoon. I set up the trap and hope you arrive soon. You chose your mayhem and I’ve chosen bliss. There’s no return from this awful wickedness. A fortunate devil in the making. A neurotic world is yours for the taking. I’m unaware of what truly lies beneath the surface. Your masks falls to the floor amidst your chaotic mess. Behold! A current flowing towards devastation. Your undoing is the dam that will come down with adulation. You don’t get to live out your life in makeshift peace. Secrets will spill out and resurface from the deep. You’re not allowed to move on in perfect harmony. Crimes must be punished with the utmost severity. Graves will be dug in hopes your limbs lie still. I’ll give you a head start until it’s time to kill. Rudimentary and rotten to the core. You’ll never outrun the pain you’ll be remembered for. A dictator ruling over a fallen reich. A Rasputin trying to flee out into the unruly night. Twisted fate will come hunting for you. To sniff you out and take your job from you. What is left of you that is human and remarkable? Undamaged pasts are not always incorruptible. You have come to do the devil’s work and work you shall. All your sufferers couldn’t see past your deluded rationale. Your empire topples with a shudder and a whimper. A timeline of sacrifices made at the altar of sinners. Have you said farewell to all you chose to be? Have you said goodbye to the death machine you came to be? A war played out on the stage with victims and perpetrators. History never remembers the invaded, only the invaders.
By Anna Torres12 months ago in Poets