Surrealist Poems

The Espresso Salon

He’s behind the bar,
polishing glasses
like they’re his last remaining purpose.

“I know things!” he insists.
“I watch Question Time!
I once bought quinoa by accident!”

He pours stout
with the weight of centuries.
Tries to explain The Bell Jar
like it’s a limited-edition craft IPA.

You raise a brow,
sip espresso
from a flamingo-shaped chalice,
and summon Virginia Woolf.

—

She floats in —
half disapproval, half divine fog

a cow at the table

“There’s a cow at the table,” I whispered, not wanting to be rude.
It’s horns curled like question marks, which seemed quite Apropos
Now that I’ve been to college, I can tell you, there’s a lot that I don’t know.
But a cow at the table, no matter how well dressed, left me, well, confused.
“How do you Dooooo?”

Live Pause - Surreal Scifi

I am one of those in a world that stopped
whether it was for seconds, fractions or millennia
but the engine of time broke down mid action
mid conversation, mid thought
and for a beautiful period we were all framed 
in a snapshot that may have lasted eons 
and some called it enlightenment
and when the buffering released us
all was

Anecdote

a lady of swollen years
sat knitting with glorious colours
she said her name was
saint something or other
I didn't quite catch it
must have been the gum she was chewing
her lipstick was smeared
anyway I asked what she was making
she said stain glass windows
for the cathedral being built behind her
I wasn't going to believe her
but I couldn't help it

Never Lose Yer ***** Kid

a one against all iconoclast
eat my shorts was his hello
after being driven from the village
by the Iceberg Clan physical therapists
and their dictatorship of deduction
a mere fascination with the grotesque
boasting an indignant moral high ground
their vast distortions parading as what's next
none of which was actually observant
ordered the award of a certificate of exile
prompting futile biographical excess
told

Warning Contents Under Pressure

have you lost your mind
not that I'm aware of
just another flat penny train wreck
let's survey the blaspheming survivors
an army of gossiping lawn trolls
have been detected in your garden
do you
a. get out of bed
b. run screaming into the night
c. splash a little more gin
into the horn of screeching hell
that feathered chaos aviary
thronged with hollow boned creatures
squawking

Car Wreck Psychodrama

My YouTube Russian car crash wreckophilia 
comes from a bad head on in the family car
near rural Shreveport Louisiana in 1947
when I was a tyke whose favorite berth
was the stowage space behind the back seat
under the wide rear panorama window
of our forest green '42 Chevy Fleetline
last I remember was mom screaming oh Ed
quickly followed by

It's Time For Your Enema

Eternal Surprise Productions presents
the It's Time For Your Enema show
bringing news of the day coast to coast
reading every offhand inflection
as though it were a rescue beacon
from the constant din of battle
between intensity and superficiality
being close to utter annihilation
I can recklessly speak these equations
without fear of instant retaliation
does being a case of political neutrality
make you an

Abysmally Slow Learner

I don't know about you
but the seeming me abused and cursed
had all my birth fingers burnt off
at the first knuckle before the first lullaby
from too many here hold my beer
blithely eager watch this rolls of the dice
simply to gain a little altitude a little vista
no audience necessary or even indicated
just a little reconstructive surgery by

Rebel Faction

truth is in fact an unreality
and unattainable
often outrageous and will
 make you or your self image crazy
if turned into a fetish
the object being in every case
to avoid compulsion
the future expands infinitely
we know this self evidently
what else do we know self evidently
the rules of self evidence
come to mind in a fog
you burn fog with sunlight
whose vehicle

How Is It So

how is it we look into the future
using only what what bends our fingers
with all the assumptions that keep us
on the daily throttle but less than safe
hidden from each others' true gaze
by acts of will made default by time
in a lost ignored numberless realm
where mysteries remain so again and again
by acts of blissful ignorance again

Daddy's Little Frankenstein

A children's rhyme called Little Ponzi
all our emotions are a two edged sword
they can soar or mess things to high treason
apparently playing evil A against evil B
has paid off at the ghetto bookie parlor
taking us all on the zigzag route to tomorrow
because because fields of potential interact
join the Navy see the world the poster goes
my

The Surrealist Fishing

the river here runs backwards
and it's the fish that catch
they enjoy the dark nights
when they see better
the sun burns down to the algae
men swim desperately in the shadows
and nothing seems to matter

A Surrealist Observation

A Surrealist Observation

                                         YOU
You are wildfire, 
The candy in a kiss
Open windows of eyes
Every breath

Surrealist Fresco

The artist’s prime passion
dissolves in the spectrum of colors,
looks for an empty canvas
to flow and make a masterpiece.

Finds inspiration in you
from the rainbow of your heart.
With its shredded chromatic patches
paints a surrealist fresco.

December 14, 2020
Contest : It Feels Surreal
Sponsor : Nina Parmenter

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