Challenge 100 - Surreal

[SubtleDagger]

sur·re·al
Pronunciation: s&-'rE(-&)l, -'ri-&l also -'rA-&l
Function: adjective
Etymology: back-formation from surrealism
1 : having the intense irrational reality of a dream

Go.

[pixiesfanyo]

Like Angels Ought to Smell

Careless waves crashing against raw breath
Graceful guts spilled into unkept seas
Surreal copulation on wet ardor
Useless attempts washed against bare shores
Ocean air, open skies, inhaling your scent

I’ve been holstering my weapon far too long
Passive in nature, but the safety has been off for days
Nightly self desecrating the pristine trigger
I watch my guillotine empty and then gently decay

My head rested on a bemused mast
Questioning the sagacious air around
“When, pearly white, will you devour me?”
A sincere sail drifting constantly
I watch and float into a placid sleep

[silenceevolves]

Genesis: a grave

Please don’t leave –
Somebody crashed out on main street
The holy paramedics
Could go without the interruption
Of mouths breathing,
And tears falling, as they ship
Such bodies to their genesis:
A grave next to their parents’.

Please don’t leave –
The paint on the gates outside
Is too quickly fading
Surreal, from gold to yellow to gone.
Claim: "it’s just hiding"
From the supercilious and precise
Who would see the off-white,
And try to cleanse the fright.

Please don’t leave –
The crosshairs on your neck
Will only move a train
Enough to see a wave of holiday
Shoppers in masses
Surge and grace the weekend with
The still, spread, shocked lips
To witness a holy necrosis --

Only to continue moving to the beat,
Of their golden watches still ticking;
Or to heat themselves by a science fire
Under unwilling ember letters:
Weep apathetically for the dead text,
and speak with a general express,
"I can no longer prove I exist,
But they tell me that I am 'blessed'."

So, please, don’t leave,
And save your hurting
For a time you’d find
What for you’re searching.

[TojesDolan]

Amazed brilliance

Through destruction creation we breed,
burning past antiques to
activate the power recquired
for civilization to progress.

Through speech in tongues
simple men find obscure,
explanations of planifications
of unclear blueprints and controls,
are given to deafened goats
to conceive the master plan.

Demonic growls
crash against the concrete walls,
creating a resonance in the room.
Protection must be achieved,
for the demon's curse not to conjure
in the ears of pawns.

In the sorroundings, creatures depend on the
transformation created towards advance.
Black water exudes from corroded tubes,
where creatures feed from decay,
clinching in rocks from the evils around.

Among surreal machines that transform
vapour trails to electric waves
clockwork apparatus of precise engineering
clashing, striking and working in harmony
just to illuminate this dim-lighted room.
This... light.

[Littlejohn]

Again we venture to native emotions
like before, and it blossoms anew the same
These words do not begin to exemplify
The beauty that could be found in you

Perhaps the sun will light the way
Or maybe just burn away my faith
Yeah, you're a wreck. You're the wreckage
that I'm searching through

You're beautiful as a this melody
and probably as bittersweet.

Surreal stained-glass picture of you
I squint my eyes as I look through
To see what there is beneath your skin
and how well you can hide your sin
and everything you do

Has got me perplexed.
Yeah you're the voice of my distress.
I'm no saint, but you're a sinner
And I
can't
help
myself.

You're beautiful as a this melody
and probably as bittersweet.

[DFelon204409]

The semester is over and I am actually back in this mofo and will be all of next semester since I'm taking an advanced poetry class.

[RunAmokRampant]

Little Albert (Where Is He Held?)

I've read about you even though
ethically I shouldn't even know your name.
Do bells and whistles still frighten you?
Do forbidden decibels continue to haunt you
in mirror maze memory?

The effect would have been so surreal.
But you're a grown man now for sure.
The effects would've become bored
And the soft psyche not as easy to mould.

It didn't take long before you became tampered circuitry
Spoon fed to perform to a claque; Glass eye witnesses.
Treated like a man without a tongue of reproach.
Or a mind strong enough to guide reason with.
Such is the effect of slapped conditioning

We all wonder what had happened to you.
Perhaps worried? The senses were betrayed,
in the name of science.

Well take care little mouse,
Personification of a small plastic bag.
Keep the ends tied to keep the air in.
Bells and whistles are meant to keep you on your heels.

[Disco Dragon]

"Intergallactic Fisticuffs"

Staring at a war hanging over my head
I maneuver my telescope like a prizefighter
A rumble in the sky
The thunderous cries of the crowd of stars
Cheering the battle in the Milky Way

I am only a spectator
Watching star cinema
I am a Sagittarius
Watching my surreal atmosphere burn away

Dipping fists into glue and glass
Punching at anything in rotation
The moon isn’t full tonight
I’m looking, instead, at its black eye
And its bloody lip dripping over the horizon

I demand you to stop this!
Command them to play nice!
They’re too big for this
And I’m too intoxicated to notice

I am a burning star
Blazing my nights with no viewing audience

When the earth crumbles around my feet
I’ll be wishing for moon boots
To wade through the waste of peaceful planets
That was once inspirational

[ITRIEDVOODOOONCE]

Mr. Palahniuk, your Chambers

So let the isolation begin
This is all we've wanted and more
The scantily clad in steel walls
Eradicated isnt the word
But its the first that comes to mind
Let existance be replaced with the surreal
We've needed friends for shifty eyes
Our nails do their job best
As residue on the cell walls
So as self destruction chimes in
Lets count to pass the time
one two three four
one two three four
Comfort found as we rock back and forth
one two three four
one two three

[conniption]

In Flight

Do you feel it?
It drifts down from the sky
Onto the suits of silence
Erected the mountain will stand
Trails blazed and guns smoking

Bubbles burst by my surreal train of thought
Monarchies crumble, swellings suppressed
Stone to stick! Boulder to bone!

The stench of fire
Leaps across cornfields
Its guile soul confronts mother earth
We see the gates of heaven open
The wrath of hell unleashed

More stones to the cairn!
Guide us through this misconception!
Like a conch in the sand
Dormant you lay while you funnel the sounds of the future

[Jonney Blazes V1]

S-U-R-R_E-A-L

Red sky in the morning,
shepards warning,
I see it every sunrise.
way way up high,
blood dripping cross the sky,
someone screaming, someone dies.

I'm lost in a surreal word, a surreal world
In the world of swirling mists and starry skies,
A man screaming, A child that cries,
cries, cries, cries all the time,
the final gong, the final chime,
Of Dali's clock is ringing,
ringing, ringing, in the hills.

Giving me the chills,
Giving me the chills,
I think i'm dying,
dying on the hills,

Dying on the blood stained lawn
On the ear that has been torn,
and sent in a bitter love lost letter,
Oh I better, Oh I better,
Get out of my head,
Theo is shouting. Theo is talking.

I think I better go right now.
And i know just how,
I know just how,

Goodbye my Theo.
Goodbye my Theo.
Goodbye My theo.
The skies turning black,
Everyones turned their back,
On me,
Everyones not seeing what I'm seeing,
Or care that I'm a human being.

Goodbye my Theo, Goodbye my Theo
Goodbye from Vincent Van Gogh,
Dying on the hills,
Dying from the chill,
dying from the chill of a cold cold world.

<Okay this song is abotu Vincent Van Gogh, a man who everyone thoughtw as mad, no appreciated, left to commit sucide because he wa s aburden on his brother theo. It's not very good but meh..I will try and write a better one later..

[WhatILivefoR]

Twelve

Fear comes between me and my lips-
so confined together in the same mouth
with the same teeth, same pierced tongue
the same breath, the same frustrated call.
And I remember I don’t want this. God, I don’t want this.

With the beams of the heat converging,
two went out with the broom on the step.
And twelve followed their fire in passionate upheaval
collecting the crumbs of their blistering decent.
I’m feeling like I’m five years old again.

like Gretel runs; the leaves stretching after some intangible...
wake of an ocean. the one for my father.
There’s no one in the woods for me. It’s draining, it’s vague,
and I’m in the delicate process of getting lost with my eyes shut.
I’ve been lost before; I know what to expect.

Only the oven waits. The fires of Hell, unquenchable;
a surrealistic romance of a dysfunctional form.
the twelve timed chance of a new life, gone.
GOD the leaves don’t give.
They silverize and spin like a worthless whore.

While the cigarette is flushed, her lips close around it.
hold the grip tight because falling will quench it.

“tuck and roll.”

[Crimsonpunk]

The fireflies and I


Excite me
Light me up like a jar of fireflies
That play stand in, when theres not enough stars in the night sky
The dirtied, once green, simply trembles beneath,
A faith that holds out woe, like sheets
Bare chested, blessed, and bullets in the breeze

Curse momentary perfection,
I forgot what mistakes feel like
That's when it hit me - oblivious but for rocks falling from sky
Surreal revelations
A scented parrelel to your disguise
The roses turn from grey to black
As you fade off into the night

Floored and cornered
A watered down will to belong
I lay motionless, potent with a moonlit focus
As fireflies and locusts poured from the rocks
I sat and watched as they devoured, slowly soaked into the trees
I tried to visualise the fireflies and I as one, but they would not do the same for me...

[k.s.e.]

The distance doubles in the opposite direction
another inconclusion advances to no where
as we pretend to move along
still there's no new reason
to this choice so staticly concieved

And the selfish precedence was good enough
a new goodbye introduced by recorded voice
another tick on the same old post
to leave without making a move
as you let the color inspire
in the same drifting pattern

And the green shifts into the black
the nocturne in definition
so easily envious to where you want to be.

Now she's packed ready
so overly concerned with distance
when she leaves everything behind
like the last action in an ending plot
but there was so much more needed from her
stuck somewhere between unsure and content

In this place - she stands for catalyst
darkened by dropped curtains
another day tuned to static
as we left for our own surreal peace of mind
a life in everyday promise
and the holy war 4 years weighted

Her voice carefully carries out
with a single note
she signals all the blame
with all the broken promises we never paid out
she'll pick up the pace, stumbling
one step and she wrote her last words
two more to inspire my own personal shame
with three, i'll never see her again

we'll make the same decision for this season
so much of the same as the last, collapsed
everyone is waiting for Decembers end
to soften the cold
with so much to strive for
when you give all for the sake of someone else

[ATC]

Tape-worm

I heard the hammer of the law, pounding
His naked confusion in a blue-white haze, ground to its quarks and laid
Out on an asphalt canvas, seasoned salt and peppered the wounds.
He grew a stubble that day. Mid-July centre-piece among
Obituaries, in tiny typeface 1.
(Many had died that month)

No one's going to know how, but he'll be loved anyway.

I heard the hammer of the law, circling
Yellow tape-worms around the front doors of innocents, slathering love
In the substance of its fears. She wouldn't visit anymore, she wouldn't
complete daily ritual hand-clasps out through iron.
The only bars she'll ever know are locked downtown.
(It's a whiskey sort of year)

This fear, in tropical climes, does not keep,
Surreal love in times of cholera be damned,
No one watches her nightly collapse into the deep.

[Disco Donkey]

CLOSED