#surrealverse - Hello Poetry

Drift and blur Detachment Fork in a socket Reach out to catch but Not falling at all Why is it dark outside?

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Jun 19, 2023

Jun 19, 2023 at 2:24 AM UTC

m-eastman

Jolt

Drift and blur Detachment Fork in a socket Reach out to catch but Not falling at all Why is it dark outside?

6

An abandoned cathedral where I drag my soul to repent for my 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨. A lady appears in a wedding gown- I feel like I am 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚 again. Her dress turns 𝙧𝙚𝙙. She turns her head— and wicked reads her eyes. I face my fear and go too near to find that she’s gone 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙. She disappears and then appears a puny 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬-𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙡. It chases me, I trip, I fall, they drag me to a hall. “𝘕𝘰! 𝘔𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴!” I wake up- deep breath & sweat. I wonder of what it meant… To dream of 𝙢𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩.

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Jul 23, 2025

Jul 23, 2025 at 11:05 AM UTC

BeezeesPoetree

The Dream of my Repent

An abandoned cathedral where I drag my soul to repent for my 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨. A lady appears in a wedding gown- I feel like I am 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚 again. Her dress turns 𝙧𝙚𝙙. She turns her head— and wicked reads her eyes. I face my fear and go too near to find that she’s gone 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙. She disappears and then appears a puny 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬-𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙡. It chases me, I trip, I fall, they drag me to a hall. “𝘕𝘰! 𝘔𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴!” I wake up- deep breath & sweat. I wonder of what it meant… To dream of 𝙢𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩.

16

Turn off the lights — I’m fighting myself in the dark. My skin, a caressing sun; roses fall and kiss me with lip-shaped petals, trying to open me wide. But they’ll censor you — they’ll look away, so you don’t shine as bright as you are. And me? I pluck myself from a group of self-doubts. At the pace of this age, I slow, though youth fast-feeds through my hands, trying to unearth green shoots of heaven’s cheer. A chosen emotion rises — as if my heart readies itself for a rapture. Earthen hands ***** out dreams from soil. To be called a ***** — or to ***** others? _What a question to be_. As I’m plotting in the potting shed, where we shared hope like dew-struck grass. We watered our dreams with tears, and have felt baptized in fear. Shaking daily at the grip of then —as if winter left its bare bones in my hands. But I’m not ready to net a coy smile, not when my butterfly net carries extra holes. As all my hopes lie on the ground, seeds waiting to be buried in the dark —waiting to grow. The lights of faith are shut. And must I wait for fireworks to explode across my sky again, like next year’s celebrations? But I won’t shut my eyes this time. Yet I’ll stay open, just in case tomorrow decides to find me first.

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Aug 2, 2025

Aug 2, 2025 at 4:33 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Butterfly Net of Tomorrow

Turn off the lights — I’m fighting myself in the dark. My skin, a caressing sun; roses fall and kiss me with lip-shaped petals, trying to open me wide. But they’ll censor you — they’ll look away, so you don’t shine as bright as you are. And me? I pluck myself from a group of self-doubts. At the pace of this age, I slow, though youth fast-feeds through my hands, trying to unearth green shoots of heaven’s cheer. A chosen emotion rises — as if my heart readies itself for a rapture. Earthen hands ***** out dreams from soil. To be called a ***** — or to ***** others? _What a question to be_. As I’m plotting in the potting shed, where we shared hope like dew-struck grass. We watered our dreams with tears, and have felt baptized in fear. Shaking daily at the grip of then —as if winter left its bare bones in my hands. But I’m not ready to net a coy smile, not when my butterfly net carries extra holes. As all my hopes lie on the ground, seeds waiting to be buried in the dark —waiting to grow. The lights of faith are shut. And must I wait for fireworks to explode across my sky again, like next year’s celebrations? But I won’t shut my eyes this time. Yet I’ll stay open, just in case tomorrow decides to find me first.

24

Фрекенбосх и Фрекенбро Поглощали серебро, А потом, топя в педали, На молочку нажимали. Уши скручены в конфеты, Языки на пистолетах — Девки белые везде Рассекают на хлысте. 👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée

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Aug 1, 2025

Aug 1, 2025 at 11:31 PM UTC

BlochBauerandAdele

♠️ Фрекенбосх и Фрекенбро

Фрекенбосх и Фрекенбро Поглощали серебро, А потом, топя в педали, На молочку нажимали. Уши скручены в конфеты, Языки на пистолетах — Девки белые везде Рассекают на хлысте. 👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée

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