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.

Lacerated
Breathe deep, savor the rancid coppery stench Crimson gore runs down knife, still warm .. dripping Lacerated body a paint splattered mannequin
By Andrew C McDonald2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (5)
His face was pale, but there was an undeniable energy about him, as though the years had touched him but never truly aged him."I see you've found my sanctuary," the man said, his voice smooth and rich, carrying the weight of centuries.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (8)
Yet, as the thought of eternal fame crossed his mind, a flicker of doubt arose. Amadeus, despite his grand demeanor, exuded an air of sorrow. Was this immortality a blessing, or a curse?
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (10)
He would never leave. He would become like Amadeus, a living ghost, sustained by the theater but bound to it forever. Every performance, every role would be his last—and yet, he would never truly be free of it.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (11)
But then he saw Amadeus in the wings, his face hollow, his eyes pleading, though his lips smiled. It was then that Elliot knew.With a trembling hand, he dropped the prop sword he held and walked off the stage, his footsteps echoing through the empty theater.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (6)
The stories around his life and death had been the stuff of urban legend, but there he was, standing before Elliot as real as anything else in that forgotten room. "You’re dead," Elliot said, though even as he spoke the words, they felt hollow.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (9)
Time had become meaningless. Every time Elliot left the hidden room and returned to the theater's main halls, the world seemed different. The faces of his fellow actors blurred, as if they were fading into the background of a much larger story.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (7)
It offers immortality. Here, you can live forever, your performances never forgotten. Time does not move as you think it does. But there is a price, of course. There always is."
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (4)
It was as if he had stepped back in time. Costumes from long-forgotten performances lined the walls, each of them beautifully preserved, though aged. Props were scattered about: old swords, painted backdrops, golden crowns tarnished with time.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (3)
Tonight, he felt particularly drawn to a door he’d never noticed before. It was hidden in a dark corner, its wood heavy and old, the kind of door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. A strange, dusty sign above it read, "Private: Do Not Enter.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
the velvet curtain (1)
In the heart of the city, nestled between high-end shops and bustling streets, stood the Grand Étoile Theatre. It was a place of elegance, where velvet drapes hung thick from ceiling to floor, and chandeliers glittered like stars.
By andor rosen2 years ago in Poets
Suppers ready
A hearty whiff when supper is ready, to taste upon the foods delight. We gather round-feel the fires hugging warmth, and my sister strings a wistful sonata-
By Hyde Wunderli 2 years ago in Poets