Surrealism

When any member of our Government starts to use their office,which they have been elected to,to accomplish their own agenda ,

With a winning smile, he opened her door, with losers like hounds on his trail.

We could go and walk among the animals but they already seem to be hostile for some reason and show us their teeth and claws and…

*The Horror takes its time to gnaw into our dungeon of blind, deaf, mute and paralized beings. But at last, it grows like a cancer, self-promoting a madness of discernment, shooting us via emotions, …

Have you ever noticed how strange
the human voice is?

Be it spoken, written
or drawn—
rendered as any medium meant
to carry said strange human voice?

How it stands apart
as the exception to the ex…

Within the frame of their forbidden ramblings
she made reference to the inappropriateness of another.

[activated the frame of the lovers’ inappropriateness
with a single swipe of her matchstick finger]…

I.

Can you feel the alone words?
Blowing through, like fiberglass stretching
moments into long stale tears, of forgotten,
all too remembered years,
stacking up like refinery towers
when the hours of man
fa…

We say to ourselves,
“How could I ever have
been so naive?”

…where raucous music and
phosphorescent fashions
are steady as a wave
or a pulse that must
start somewhere, so…

[Video]

YOU ARE SWEETER THAN BLOOD
MY DESERT FLOWER!
A NAKED WONDER IN AN ARMCHAIR
ILLUMINATED BY THE LIGHT OF A MELTING MOON.
I FEEL THE ENIGMA OF DESIRE
WHILE LISTENING TO THE SIGHS OF THE SEA
AND THE BL…

I.
A whimper gives hope a violent end.
I bid you, come—
like a walnut, cracked and open—
move fast towards the teeth,
like moonlight through the window cracks
and curtains of harbinger beasts,
on a silve…

I found myself lost somewhere between Main Street and the road to Avonlea; wandering in this manmade world, wondering whether I would ever learn the way. And if such a directed path actually existed…

Brusque baroque to the vaudeville joke.¹
Her handmade style strung upon
a strand of headstrong pearls [in pink].
A burlesque of the lewdest proportions:
she was a natural born contortion artist.
Voluptu…

Two streets down from broken:
his eyes are
all the bread he needs;
his mind all the fire
he breathes; his hands,
but a thimble of tonic
divining a mnemonic and thankless road
into visions other luminous n…

Someday words will lose their meaning,
when thoughts flow mind to mind…

I enjoyed doing the herring-bone pattern, so I decided to use it again for this new picture.

Distant damsels do not dare
display a splash of splendour,
sisters of the solemn stare…