Surrealism Poetry – Page 3 – Theater of Sorrows

Garden

When its time to exhale
Give up my last sweet, sad breath
Let my eyes swim in the comfort of hazel
As I greet my death
When its time to travel
Time to leave the sweetest lips that ever lied
Let me keep your scent, your voice, your touch, that angel face
As I say goodbye
Don’t gather all those clouds of woe you’ve always loved
Tend the garden; Coax the seeds to grow –
I’ll be watching, my favorite memory
Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony…
Please know that although we had our trials
Heartless moments of violent pain, and choking denial
Dancing in the living room to the music of our tears…
My favorite place was always with you here
In our dark, spongy cocoon; Fire wounds soothed beneath a pale, lavender moon
When its time for goodbye, don’t worry love, I forgive
We don’t need to explain to anyone why –
The dark, the scars, the pain was ours to live
Can you stay until my eyes fade?
Can you touch me until my skin grows cold?
Can you finally smile for all the memories?
Knowing that we will live on for eternity through poetic words that will be told
Don’t gather all those clouds of woe you’ve always loved
Tend the garden; Coax the seeds to grow –
I’ll be watching, my favorite memory
Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony
I’ll take that with me
Keep it with what was true
While I wait patiently –
While I wait for you
There are things some just can’t understand
Absinthe dreams, morbid petals and silver vines
Even after time is ground to sand
I’ll breathe your breath while you breathe mine
Pregnant moon-womb of despair –
Silky tears drip in our hair
But I’ll blow a kiss into the sky
That will meet your sweetness there
Please forgive me
That I won’t be with you
When it comes your time to travel as the blackbirds fly
But I’ll be searching for your angel face
With a lovers smile as you reach the sky
Until then, don’t gather all those clouds of woe you’ve always loved
Tend the garden; Coax the seeds to grow –
I’ll be watching, my favorite memory
Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony

Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony

Angel Trumpet: Bell-shaped flower that has an intoxicating smell, but is deadly, belonging to the nightshade species, having poison in all of its parts.

Incision

Come here, where we’ve ceased into nameless shadows
Come smolder, drown in the depths of this orgasmic pain
Inhale all of our sorrow through your flowering eyes –
Like vines creeping up my skin, choking, suffocating my sanguine symmetry
Let your thorny fingers scrape ravines in me
Wounds to bleed waterfalls, that
Feed your naked scars with my lusty ink
Make your incision count
Choose your favorite damage from this graveyard of fractured hues
Puncture my skin with howling needles spitting times burning bridges –
Dangling watches over crevices of fatalism
Your shadow walking right through mine
As if yesterdays answers were tomorrows hypocrisies
You’ve got the moon dying, falling through the sun in a blistering travesty –
Two ancient beings colliding in a chaotic, heartbreaking symphony
Of lost, hopeless, gauzy dreams
That I’d wrap around you –
Your angelic face and beautiful tempestuous warrior eyes
Come lay, next to our blooming weeds
Our gardens weeping iridescent memories
Two hearts wrapped in poetic tragedy and floating ribbons of smoky regret

Before the moon fell into the cemetery –
The stars spelled out our story
Waiting for you to write it during twilights crushing, somber sufferings
But the pages never spoke the words
Indecision reaps embattled souls
Misconstrued offerings burning on the altar for the wolves to lick
Fur, saliva and blood and bone
Come suffer, here in the cavern of our porcelain existence
Bury the ruptures beneath the stones
Warm yourself dancing in the cleansing fire
Until the words weep from your fingertips –
Hemorrhage from your eyes
Evaporate from your skin
Hurl from your soul

Catch the sun before it eats itself
Curls your skin like papyrus etched with phantom doctrines
A foolish mans journey down the hall of hollow mirrors
Come sleep, beneath my lovers lashes
Eyes peeking through their forest at your damaged riddles
Longing for celestial questions
To silence the silence

To bring our shadows home

Wolf and Crow

I am crow
Born from wolf
I am divine because of his spirit
Sprung from the saliva and foam of his pungent breath
Shaped from the curve and bend of his fissured bones
Night creature creeping quietly
Nuanced howling blanketing the Universe
Stars begging to cradle such crystallized, cadenced meaning…
Resplendent in form; Obsidian mind and mane –
Sheer, fluid spirit that roamed mountains and hillsides, meadows and valleys
Springs and rivers, catacombs and caves
Light and dark, hearths and gravesides
With incarnate eyes, piercing facets, seer of butterfly wings and hurricanes
Feral connection with the intangible; Visions… the knowing of
A ghostless humanity; Having stoned the simplicity of Love

– A seasoned soul in a primitive nature –
No myth or magical burden
I am divine because of his spirit
His silence and thoughtful gazings; Ritualistic empathy
Beneath dry, blistering, desert skies, sparse, withered and frigid –
Having forgotten that Atlas bothered…
Fevered molecules choking compassion
Suffocating a disintegrating humanity, its deviated attachment in meltdown…
Alone, wolf followed a fallow moon
Crouching, crawling, running through the briars
Ornate eyes peering at the treetops, always watchful, mindful
Hunted, he never wavered in his protection –
Despite death dreams in my narrowed, haunted eyes
And a lingering feeling of lethality tugging at my wings
His presence swelling in my visions: Will you soar, despite your burdens?
Your word is like God, he reminds me
I can’t feel the wind below my wings, nor the mountains beneath my feet, I answer
Trust what you seek, what you build and what you tear away, he reminds me
I am every breath you breathe, every thought you allow, every energy that you give
My fur, my blood, my bones, my eyes –
I howl
My heat, rhythm, spark, furor, softness, wild –
My love holds the sky for you
With its layers and washes of oranges and crimsons, fans of violets, blues, greys, obsidians…
And its dimensions of shadows, specters, corpses, reapers, and the light inbetween…
I am wolf
You are crow
My child, Myself, My love
Arrogant eyes
Suffer the betrayed, be they beast or human, to receive the perfume of infinity
I fear nothing, for everything has a purpose, he murmured against my cheek
As the moon and the stars lit the way for my tears

I look to the sky; It is my living religion
I feel the wind below my wings and the mountain beneath my feet
Closing my eyes, deep breath… I dive…
I soar

I am crow
Born of wolf
I am divine because of his spirit