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    dots Submission Name: The Birth of Surrealismdots

    Author: ShadowParadox
    Elite Ratio:    2.73 - 25/68/35
    Words: 379
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 887
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2794


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    dotsThe Birth of Surrealismdots

    Creatively I died inside a butterfly’s wing
    Buried in the womb of a bird’s song


    Planted deep in a spiders imagination
    Twisted, converted
    Underneath a pyramid
    Midriff monsoon
    Against the red noon of the Moon’s
    Lunar tunes

    Nightmares growing from daydreams
    Like weeds
    Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams
    Broken seeds

    The eyes of the Owl see
    As wisdom he reads
    Turn green with greed
    No longer wise as pride
    Glides and rides
    Across the deceit of his landslide

    Crashing like a crystal avalanche
    Crushing lives and habitats
    See one choice can lead back to the beginning
    Of the first inning of a sliver lining
    That has become dull

    Losing its shine and luster
    Like a haunted hall
    In a old mansion cobwebbed with fluster
    Skeletons and ghost threaded in walls
    Shredded inside papery calls
    Peeling from the owners fall

    I’ve died inside the butterfly’s wing
    The wing carved on a wedding ring
    Its circle symbolizes my cycle
    A tilted infinity inside the curve of clarity

    Of my fall
    That became a papery call
    While threaded in a skeleton wall
    Cobwebbed with fluster
    Like a haunted hall
    That has lost its shine and luster
    Which became dull

    Like the first inning of the silver lining
    This choice has led back to the beginning
    Crushing lives and habitats
    Like a crystal avalanche
    Crashing across the deceit of this landslide

    Which glides and rides
    No longer wise as pride
    Turns green with greed
    As wisdom he reads
    The eyes of the Owl see
    Broken seeds
    Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams
    Like nightmare and weeds
    Growing from daydreams

    Lunar tunes of the Moon
    Glowing against red noon midriff monsoon
    Underneath a pyramid
    Twisted, converted
    Planted deep in a spiders imagination
    Buried in the womb of a bird’s song


    For I’ve creatively died inside the ink of a butterfly’s wing
    Dripping from an alien’s pen-well
    Melting like clear gel
    Faded and blurred
    Secretly grew in between each verb
    Hid myself in sentences
    Like parables in genesis

    With glee…

    I impregnated the meaning inside me
    Then birthed surrealism
    In a chaotic schism
    Between the fifth and second chord
    Of a poetic discord

    Submitted on 2015-08-25 00:08:34     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I really like your style, especially the flow of imagery, although I don't know if this rhyme pattern goes well with the subject matter. I mean it's a good poem and I wouldn't change a word from it but I would have done it differently. I would have left longer portions in prose as to express the vast expanses of surrealist paintings and only rounded the corners of the central imagery with rhyming. But I'm too concerned with the visual aspects of my poems anyway, so maybe that's just me...
    | Posted on 2016-10-19 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ]
      If I could have his as a tattoo , I would
    | Posted on 2016-02-11 00:00:00 | by Chelebel | [ Reply to This ]

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