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 as it was
and some claimed epiphanies
the only giveaway, a distant house alarm
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
she rolled her next joint
with incredible conviction
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 am I
speak up if it won't
get you killed
this is where the steam pipes hiss
and demons prowl
but know their own
and in fact are capable of learning
migrations are history as writ
migrations are trouble for the archivists
but in electric terms
things ease a bit
a bit the size of Texas
what can be described
but what has been perceived
and judged and pigeonholed
acorns in the woodpecker's hole
birds are dinosaurs you must admit
six hundred million years
right in front of your face
forget that and swim in offal
there is a picture for our heads
that may well and truly
cause mass bedlam among the learned
it is of the first mammal
ever
finding a mate was a problem
therefore we are miraculous
and misevaluate everything
that's why the long faces
and a pale sense of beauty
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
YOU
You are wildfire,
The candy in a kiss
Open windows of eyes
Every breath cool smoke
A dark morning, translucent as a ghost
Remembering delicious yesterdays.
&
I'm
Questioning if that angel in my life
Ferociously brilliant
Those who never wake to something less
Than deep peace, velvet surrounding
The lingering embrace of God
- Or if -
The fuzzy truth
Just blinds me in my joy.
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
arched mirror on the cold stone,
blackglorious dress,
Xoloitzcuintlis at heel.
quiet reflection,
forfeiting Frida’s apparition
beneath her underclothes.
her fate was switched
from doctor to artist
painfully so
she’s pretty with eyes closed,
heavy-petaled headgear.
Diego paints ash on canvas,
surrealist unibrow lifts —
Frida’s suffering relinquished.
10/25/2020
WORDS DECRIBED THIS
THEY DID NOTHING TO
DETAIL, WHAT THE EYE
REALLY SEE'S
I POSTURED MYSELF TO REDEFINE
EXPERIENCE
I POSTURED MYSELF TO DESCRIBE
WHAT WAS BEFORE ME
IT MAKES EVERYTHING BEFORE IT'S CREATION
INFERIOR
IT'S ARROWS POINT TO ALL DIRECTION
AND THIS ENCOURAGES ALL TO WANT
WISH AND DISCOVER
FOR THE SAKE OF CREATION
IT FILLS CAVITY'S
AND TRENCHES DRY SPACES
IT STANDS STILL
AND GOES PLACES
IT IS TIMELESS
AND EVER GOING
RELENTLESS
AND AWE SHOWING
IT'S AMPLIFIED AND WHISPERED
DIFFERENT AND STRANGE
IT'S RIGHT IN WRONG PLACES
IT WHY THINGS MAKE A CHANGE
IT'S HOW WE WILL DEAL WITH TOMORROW
IT WAS THOUGHT OF YESTERDAY
FROM NOW ON IT SHALL BE SPOKE OF
AS IT WAS HERE ALWAYS
SURREALIST PAINTING
In nospace
are there no things
but
being aware of existence
things manifest
and
look like this!
Dave Austin
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.