An Impressionist’s Surrealism
A hot wired numb skull screws his jaw
to his skull wiring his brains to drugs
hoping to charge his eyes to bring more lies.
A pretty face living in her own head
thinks she’s figured the world out
because she can handle all that’s in her plate.
A scary midget clown with no legs or hands
twists a smile and says let me play you two
for a while and see hurt beguile love, let’s call him cupid.
Raising a child protected from people and temptation
is like blindfolding them to follow queues from a goose
quacking to the sneers of ghosts and paranoid ruminants.
The clown musters his laugh with fairy dust
making the girl look like a fiery defiant unicorn
with a red diamond for a horn refusing to be anyone’s own.
Driven by his hungry eyes and his filthy appetite
numb skull pulls out lies for tries exposing
his innards as if to bear pain with nothing to gain.
Blinded by his advances her eyes shut down
and her ears follow numb skull’s advances
as he stands on destruction’s hull while he dances.
Beneath all that allure little did she know was a dejure
greed that made numb skull a parasite that lived to impale
those he lured and use them as stepping stones to grow.
In time she opened up her heart let down her guard
and he spooned its innards with arrows tearing
them out with amorous chains and burden weights.
Without her knowing he poisoned her dreams
clouded her skies gassed her creative atmosphere
until he reduced her into a burned ground of rubble.
Now he wasn’t fully done with her yet so he consulted
the devil who advised him to chain her with an angel.
And so she bore him a nymph and a rainbow angel.
Little did he know the little lady in red turned
into a raging red dragon guarding her angels
like the beast guarding its garden of glass roses.
One day he played pity with death and sorrow
with ruse and when the moon went to sleep
she lost her light and he rode a carriage pulled by her.
Enslaved like a dog made to taste hurt from a whip
she blackened with hate and swore to be his death.
She crossed death’s divide and stabbed all that’s in her way.
That day she broke free from his spell
but she lost her angels to that devil.
Sometimes she reaches for them in her dreams.
As for numb skull he rots in a cell
plagued with darkness, forgotten
like an ill gotten son of a gun.
This poem was inspired by impressions made by a set of images to tell a story that actually happened.
And illusion and Dream by Poets of the Fall : https://youtu.be/0MuGGUqtHaI