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.
Nebulous Times
Metallic structures surround me as I walk between my reality and dreams, my fears and hopes seem to be dripping through the seams, as I maunder deeper into this halted moment, I realize that most of who I am is injured and broken, locked deep down inside is my truth, unable to be opened by any other but me, it is up to my own soul to set my gaze free, to supplant myself in the verity of time, to know the difference between the feign and sublime, to know what belongs to them and what's mine, to know that I have no fears and that I am not blind, that the lies I have told myself need not exist in these moments of pure revelation, that I need not suffer from the pain of the baneful indignation, that what I want and need is the truth and it's sweet salvation, not mendacious ruminations that are detrimental to my elation, that don't push me forward, that only provide dander and stagnation, a step in the right direction, proper and thoughtful introspection, not botheration or dereliction, a moment to look in the mirror and reflect on who I am, what will I say, where will I go, these are the verities one needs to know, the things that will galvanize me so, that which will make me water, more easily I'll flow, in a more tranquil and irenic state I'll grow, escaping the wretched feelings that pool concurrently down below, my thoughts will reveal themselves to me, through the pain and suffering I will see, that all of which I know belongs to me, that during moments of rage, one can percolate love and still feel the sweet tender touch of supinity, that peace comes from the ability to achieve temperance over one's self, without screaming or crying out to others for help, the lines are mine to cross, if I falter or waiver, I will take the loss, for the truth of it all, is that one must fall to stand, one must hear and listen to understand, so that one may do, so that one can rise through the stages of the deleterious and tragic, to the moments filled with adoration and magic, swim through the amorphous seas of static, fly through the nebulous times, remain who you are, and you will shine.
By Charles Freeman8 years ago in Poets
Will You Remember Me
Will you remember me, will you remember all those instances of peace and glee, all those times we stepped out of the boundaries and became free, all those times we swam across the vastness of every sea, climbed the heights of every mountain, created fountains of sublimity, that would last for eternity, will you remember our foes and enemies, the prodigious amounts of fatalities, the feign and real realities, that made us whole, that made us odd, will you remember the days in which we fought side by side, to release the hunger for love that was locked deep down inside, to release the hunger for freedom that was torn from our hearts as children, as we scrambled to understand our own reflections, the masses stole our wills for introspection, just to keep us safe, for our own protection, so the sounds of the truth, would not deter us from enjoying our youth, so the sounds of lies, could make us nurtured and wise, the ultimate surprise, to be fettered in a cage of ignorance and insignificance until our forlorn demise, spurious hellos, baneful goodbyes, so many detrimental lows, not enough seraphic highs, pushing us down, so we remain the same size, grinding us down to nothing, so we could become the lost voices, stupid boys and girls who've made the wrong choices, incapable of discerning right from wrong, they're just here to be our slaves, they don't actually belong, round them up in heards and throngs, make them listen to the dumbest songs, just like children, they will maunder on, they will sing along, for they won't be here for long, will you remember, the fires that burned deep within, the thoughts that were filled with pernicious sin, to destroy the masters that tore us from our cradles, the liars who fed us evaporating fables, the killers who took food off of our tables, the bastards who fed us pills to make us lonely and unstable, the demons who entered our dreams, the government's that broke our jaws after we screamed for justice, the parables written by the mendacious, the wealth that was kept by the ostentatious, will you remember, or will it be a fleeting thought, fugacious.
By Charles Freeman8 years ago in Poets
Mermaid's Lair
The Abyss Mermaid's Lair Stop. Back up. Go deeper. Deeper than you feel comfortable with. Feel it. Take it all in. Let it overwhelm you. What do you see? How do you feel? Are you afraid? You should be. At least a little bit. Can you go further? Will you come with me? Or are you holding back? I want to feel it even if it terrifies me. I want to be jolted. I want to explode into a billion pieces of light falling into darkness. I want to be engulfed by it, and breathe it into you. All of you. Who am I? Who are you? Are you ready to look into my darkness to see? This is what you must do if you really want her love. You think of her as if she is only good. She’s a lot darker than you give it credit for. As high as you rise, is as low as you will fall into her depths. She is the master of manipulation and seduction. She is in me, and I am in her. I find myself swimming in her Sea of Darkness. It’s absolutely beautiful. The light defines the dark down here, but it’s calm, eerie, and almost addictive. I could get used to it down here. Floating through this sullen yet sensual abyss. There is a hint of light in the distance, but only enough to silhouette the curves of my body fading into yours. Still dark enough to hide what I don’t want you to see. What I don’t want to see. This Sea of darkness caresses my vulnerability. I am wide open. Like a book for you to read. Will you read it to me? Or must I read your mind as you read my every inch? The look on your face says it all.
By Sirena LaMar8 years ago in Poets
