Surrealism Poetry – Page 5 – Theater of Sorrows

Gears

Riptides, pulling us apart
I reach for him, drowning in this fallow sea
But the bliss has fallen away in this frozen season –
Sorrow so barren that its killed its tears
Still, the clouds cry to the moon
But she hurts too much to care
Disintegrating into a chilly, forlorn sliver
Abandoning our sacred coupling
Her twilight divinity a madness that dizzies the crows eyes
They pick apart our pieces, feathering their nests with our jewels
Leaving our naked wounds open to the elements
Clockwork rolling backwards
Tock tick… tock tick…
Gears grinding against the rust that’s held us together
Metal merging with mist through the cracked glass
The earth rolls left and loves thick liquid pours between tilted dials
Splashes upon the rocks like rubies that won’t feed the impoverished
In crowded spaces of empty rooms words evict meaning
Red pain screams itself into black
Half dead in its aliveness
Writhing anguish, watered into blooming by graveside tears
I see my garish death in your angel face of loathing
We scream our frustration, searching for words to silence words
In this violent incident you drag resignation behind your dented shadow
Storm out into the dead light
Cigarette anger glow beneath shriveled stars –
Their luminosity surgically excised by our serrated tongues
A blunt violation lacking a sterile room
The air is falling – our inebriated shadows cascading starved love…
Swaying down the flawed halls of methodology of the condemned
While the bells exhale silence
The moon blows a kiss goodbye
Then descends through the rutted sky after remorse
That last icicle of light melting into dark fallout
I wish this waste would gag my eyes with dementia –
The lunacy of a happy fool…
Sprout musty mushroom scales inside my heart
Tangle my nerve endings with an arctic ocean
Weave cryptic manifestations into my mind to confuse its agony
So it curls into itself like a sea anemone –
Shut down and armored; Floating on the blue grey brink
But evidence gulps tranquil bliss like a predatory black hole
The gears grind against the rust that’s held us together
A metal sandstorm in the hourglass

The Color of Our Truth

Cutting deep, desolation and despair
You’re the one I want to keep but this may have gone beyond repair
Our conception born from words, far into the early morning hours
We eagerly devoured the lovely chaos swirling round in our minds
Creeping through feral, demented forests – Sometimes running blind
Diving into madness… Are you there?
Can I reach out and tangle my fingers in your hair?
All these walls with busted corners
All these windows with no view
And the bells are ringing near the hill side
While the crows perch on the pews
Osteomancy underneath a nightshade sky –
Brittle bones born to die… Sliding through fingers smooth as glass
Knocking on the stones, spilling our mystery
Sucking the rain into their cracked, dusty fragments
To expel our story –
Sticky and messy, gritty and reserved, scraping and tearing…
Like trying to hold fire in a cage
The unfolding of our becoming… or undoing…
Lust lovely, love… bite the savage, sweet and sinister. Listen to them speak –
But the winds run dry and the bones won’t cry –
This vague shadow as empty as a scarecrow – a riddle swallowing itself
A feast without the famished…
Time cannot collapse destiny like water carves the stone
It’s been a long time coming, but now you don’t have to be alone
The color of our truth is blue
It sounds like your whisper in my ear
It smells like September
It looks like the gentleness in your fierceness
It feels like your heartbeat beneath my palm
And it tastes like laughter in tall glasses
There are glimpses in the valley now… traces, running down badger like Indian ink –
Compilations and coffee rings in the Underground…
Melting roadside tragedies on the Queens gate…
Indelible scriptures
That give way to the Sacred
While you surrender your burdens to me
Surrender your anguish, your pain
Let these wretched things fall away late at night in our musky catacomb
Where we tangle our bodies in luscious disarray
And your shoulder tempts my lips
The soft heat of you, ink and scars, delights that I find… your bodies lovely ornaments –
Priceless frescoes that are now mine to seek with euphoria, trace with awe
Desire with madness, taste with rapture
You are my poetry, whether written in blood or ink
Whether smudged in dark decadence, carved into my own skin, pouring from my wounded mind –
Or seeping from my tortured soul…
Layers upon layers, woven together, waiting for the sunflowers to anoint our rusted time
Your eyes are questions to my answers
Your soliloquies are my memories
Your beauty stirs me… makes me weep with desire
Steals the angels innocence and makes them swoon
Come be my sweetest lover, my deepest sorrow, my darkest moment
Lets stray to
Where our madness devours our sanity
Where our love is fierce and wild
Where home is in each others eyes
Tonight, come into my dreams and take me into yours…

Small Atrocities

Waiting under a midnight sapphire sky
Chandeliers of white lilies and lotus –
A petalled, frilly, perfumed canopy
My dreams tangled with sorrow, best buried among the weeds now
Love lying in the graveyard where the crows pick at its bones
Jewels long gone; Tossed into stolen piles of hoarded trinkets
To rust like metal in an angry, vicious sea
This twisted disaster –
Ghosts dancing to a funeral dirge before death bothered to extract its execution
No ritual, no exorcism would have turned grey into color
Weeping words slithered down sun-starved cheeks, while the moon chanced painful glances –
Wondering how to unravel severed veins from pumping, empty hearts
How to find remorse in a vacant vessel
There will be no contented sighs for this discontented fiction –
And tears are better served to authentic paupers, fools and dreamers
Than to this charming, beguiling illusion that deceives the damned
Swarms through blood like bees from their bludgeoned hive
But this trial by fire melts… cauterizes traitorous skin from solid bones –
A cocooned awakening…
Sears the patina from tarnished pupils until fallacy cracks into withered, new-born moons
That coax poetic dancing on the riverbank
Primal, unabashed gyrations that shake specters from a damaged soul
Sensuous flailing… Delicate feet and slender legs, gracious thighs whispering to private gardens
Soft belly, wispy arms, willowy fingers, pillowy breasts, plump mouth, flowing hair –
Moon-kissed skies… lips pressed against hopeful eyes…
A new season of voluptuous photographs
A new breeze through the open window
Upon which burnt words disperse, then crumble into dust that coats the tumbleweeds in this arid desert
Rolling away from this sacred border onto the parched landscape of forgotten dreams
Where the sun will bake their spiky bristles into brittle nests
That the magpies snap and gather, to carry off into the trees of yesterdays archives
What remnants remain of another lifetime, wrapped in iridescent stars –
Tossed into the sky for the sun to keep…
Waiting under a midnight summer sky
Chandeliers of purple-sweet lilacs
Their breath blooming dreams in the garden and on my lips
Tears ground up in the drain until the switch broke
Sutures dissolving in a thousand quiet, unblessed wounds
The moon whispers mystery into my ear, brings new words for my calloused fingers to leak
Time is turning over on itself
The ache is now a constant, dull shadow, a spirit storm tolerable but deserving of a funeral
The shovel is where he left it
I have avoided those small atrocities that he left behind –
There are no angels concerned with loves small atrocities
But summer is fleeting and Fall must not be abandoned to heartless acts
So beneath falling silvery stars that burn deep ravines in the lavender stained sky
I am an eclipse, a shadowed summer, filtered through a ripe, late sun lens
My inky pupils my brooding pen, burning skeleton images onto crisp linen, coffee-stained pages
Writing lyrical requiems until the last dead give up their ghosts
And the moon births my eyes