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.

Echo
I shout, screaming,but all I hearis my own echoscreaming backat me.It's coming backat me, in all directions,my voice screaming back at meI cover my ears,I don't knowwhere to go...
By Cassiie Etienne8 years ago in Poets
The Philosopher's Abyss
Through aching, blurred eyes, I stare into the dark, Regarding the world as one does a wisp of smoke. My throat tastes of blood; I ache with the emptiness.
By Arthur Hasekura8 years ago in Poets
You and Me
That day, everything was so beautiful. The weather was beautiful, and I was thinking to write some verses. After my breakfast, I took my pen and the beautiful notebook gifted by my best-friend. On my way to that beautiful place that always inspire me, I was thinking about the last night dream...
By Assi 8 years ago in Poets
Drift
When you wake up Can’t see Can’t breathe You know you’re already done. The familiar twist in your stomach Sheer terror breaking your body
By Matt Miani8 years ago in Poets
Vestigial Superstition
The Devil is a gardener He'll plow your field and Lay it thick with sweet loam. He'll fertilize your thoughts With dreams of a flower jungle.
By N.Zbornak8 years ago in Poets
Beautiful Hatred
His muffled scream It echos though the gag makes it impossible to comprehend I play with the knife in my hand And watch as his eyes widen
By Tasia Lorraine8 years ago in Poets
And They Walk
They walk in the streets, their signs shimmer and glow with more than just words. They stand in the fields, their hands scratched and worn as they remember the stories of family, of life before. They run from the everlasting fear of their ancestors, the fear of the teeth and fists that stand outside waiting. Waiting for the moment, waiting for our brown tired eyes to glance away from the locked windows and slammed doors. waiting for the moment to bruise and cut the black of our skin. Our brothers and sisters stare into the eyes of those who whisper, those who watch, and those who look away. they keep their eyes up and chins pointed to the dark sky, knowing that what they do now will change everything, knowing that what they do now will burst a hole in the bag of hatred and death. So They walk.
By Somebody8 years ago in Poets
The Martyr of Reason
1. Broken dreams for eternity A puppet toward nothingness A loser for reality Ignorance toward selfishness ''He's crazy !'' - they said.
By Ivan Karamazov8 years ago in Poets
The Beast Inside
Don’t tell a lie you can’t hide the beast inside, it grabs you any chance it gets. Twisting your insides until you can’t bare the pain any longer.
By Megan S8 years ago in Poets
Mushroom Logic
It’s not bad, the way of the mushroom. living low, below the radar, out of sight from the blistering sun. hanging out in the cool damp
By Andrew Arnett8 years ago in Poets
Desecration of the Self
i'm not meant for this worldi'm not built for stress or worki fall apart at the breezethe heat dissolves my seamsi melt with the rainand crumble under pressurei am the flower in the mortarground to dust to make dyesomething beautiful made useful in destructionmaybe i am uselessmaybe i am okay with that facti am made for the pleasurethe moment of ecstacypeak harmony in a dissonant lifeto be put on a pedestalto fall from graceburn to cinder in the holy light of famebecome an icon and an enemyhave my name mean holiest and wickedturn myself inwards so as to reverse my initial roleattack the spine so i may bend easierbuild a palace of pillows and laceturn to dust as my admirers watch in wonderbecome what i was meant to becomea person in two dimensionsnot enough to be taintedbut just enough to tantalizethat is the world i was built for
By A O Beldam8 years ago in Poets
Gain
Tell me, what benefit you have to hurt others? Tell me, how do you feel to deceive others? Does it make it you happy? Does it fill a hole in your heart?
By Lestin Wilson8 years ago in Poets