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Surreal Canvas

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Through the cuts of snares, nothing to rest till the evening swallows, these counterband thoughts, so wicked and hollow, that they make my heart full of pulse and out they go and strums the kingdom of never coming down boost, never to be me

so chased by gates that alter the heights, and by memories that sweep, or of a different time, whichever came first, only I was speeding against the horns o...

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dadadreamscapepoemPoetrySurreal poetry

Joyce's Umbrella

Have you any idea how hard it is for me to play a G major?
Should I write a standard progression, put the chorus where it should be and scream ‘dada’ in a controlled display of abandon?
Know I am a charlatan?
The only true rebellion would be to, with utter sincerity, believe yourself a penguin
Flying in the face of all authority

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
MMMMMMMMMWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR...

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artautomatic writingavant gardeBretondadadilemmasJames Joycepenguinpopsurrealism

Free

today's mash-up: free(ish) association a line spat out every hour in couplets that are not allowed to quite rhyme, all nonsense of course

save the monkey for a cleaner time
a warm snow, maybe, where the cookies die
so busy waiting for the next day
I could’ve missed it when it finally came
through the giggling walls
plaited in a garden that promised more
while a titanium hip may no...

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