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The Music Box

The music box

 

As I am reading I am watching this old music box, I have just gently lifted the lid

The ballerina is turning, the music is playing, however the clockwork mechanism is loudly clanking and the ballerina is crying tears of blood.

 

On the inside of the lid is a mirror that shows an entirely different image from the one you would expect. It is Sal’s poem unfolding… the b...

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ode to a friendsurrealism

COME ON!

.

COME ON!

 

The chameleon ran vertically, straight up the wall

and disappeared though a crack infinitesimally small

“Did you just see that”! The post man exclaimed

“Their the masters of disguise”, I quickly explained

 

Running across, peering through the small crack

The post man kept looking dropping his sack

“Stand back and wait quietly, he’ll soon reappear”

And ...

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dreamscapesurrealism

THE REAL OLD

entry picture

I am nauseating from the coal biscuit bites of a hundred ashen hearts
I can't suck in the smell of death now, as I once sucked your damp petals
I shoo away some white rats into the black gutter everyday
I am failing today, failing miserably in my success of finding
the teenage girl's dawn in an old man's bench
I usually flicker out before bed time in my neighborhood, and 
I escape as the las...

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Metaphorsurrealismsymbolism

MY GHOST

entry picture

Let me write you there where my poems fail,

where endings are new beginnings.

Two aging strand ends, two baby lip ends,
two porous tongue ends, two bone finger ends

in line after lines, repeating, 
'successive matings, successive deaths is also a line'.

Let me call you there where my being searches for its lost,

where hollowness continues as a road.

An extended yet temporary ki...

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surrealism

I'd like you to like me

I'd like you to like me

and I'd like you to know,

Id doesn't like me and Superego doesn't know where to go.

I've planned a trip to where the tulips grow -

find a vein, push a plunger, let the psychotropes flow.

 

I know you don't like me

and we've nowhere to go.

Ego doesn't know what to do and Id has hate to sow.

I'd like you to, I'd like to oblige you to throw

away m...

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depressionDrugsinternal strugglesurrealism

Dividing the corners (a prose poem - stream of consciousness type of thing) 97'

DIVIDING CORNERS

 

Five to nine and a horrible reality. Even the carpet thinks so (after yet another coffee mug spills with the ashtray), and probably the band that's jamming away in stereo, thinking smugly, that they're tomorrow's Beatles, selling out arenas to tomorrow's people.

Still it all seems quite reputable compared to the silver cutlery in the drawer next to the microwave, unpoli...

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prose poetrystream of consciousnesssurrealism

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

Hold Rock

entry picture
Hold Rock

Are you my rock to trip me up before I fall off the edge of the world?

You take me for me, accept that I have problems.

And understand.

Will that understanding destroy you?

Will that be a plateau of levellity?

Perfect stability, eye of the storm.

 

What of you?

 

Do you actually notice me?

I bought her two nice tops and she left me by text message.

 

...

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dark topicgothic poemlife eventssurrealism

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