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.
Mars
They promised us something new. But the truth is we know nothing. We heard whispers of a miracle but what rescue could save us? The brave led us with their courage to an escape paved with turmoil. We made the horizon disappear, a magic trick we couldn't mimic. The purge left us in peace, the pressure we struggled against. We traded poison ground for a crisis in despair. There's too many answers but no one asked the right questions. We fell in love with the debris. We had our hopes high. We crave more destruction, it's in our DNA. We called ourselves explorers but conquered in catastrophe. The storm stalls us but we are worse than the storm. The dream is a failure. The simulation is an infection. Reality is conspiring against us. Adam and Eve couldn't make it in the garden so why should we? Distant travelers, we approach. It's not a mirage. It's a hypnotic lie. Where are the answers and how do we find them?
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Words of Jude
Don't notice the hair Head down, count the broken glass in view, That weapon is always loaded. Took her on back when I would dare Voice rejects their murderous hypocrisy, Shit, don’t notice the hair. Glad hostages unanimously voted But clearly Janis was catching Stockholm, Did I mention the weapon is still loaded. On the lam, can’t imagine she knows where Not enough skin to align her views on, Need another writing hand or I’ll notice the hair. Singeing my temple, not sure she noticed Although her god-sorts-his-own plan is Holding. Somehow her weapon is still loaded. Wheres and whys abandoned with The hows and flipping whos Don’t acknowledge the glowing frizzy RED, Because her weapon is ALWAYS loaded.
By Willem Indigo3 years ago in Poets
