surrealist poetry
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Pass through into night, as the moon rests on the azure blue petals of flowers that open to greet you. Oh, isn’t it you?Master of Thebes, who walks amongst the living, speaking strange enchantments into the hearts of men still unknowing. Khepri turns the globe, glowing smooth down the howling West. Pleasure, joy rapture in… Read more
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Clock my magick eyesthat have dared to dream new realms, those open desertswhere my lion’s paw steps with ease. I’ve come to claim my demons, to lay within the night,knowing it was nevermine to quit but love, and love again in will’s embrace. Fashioning rituals with heavy perfume, bringing the sense to dance in the astral circle, moving clear through the rules you keep. See my… Read more
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Do you crave my wisdom like the salt sea air? Full of ancient riddles, knowing forgotten lands, thick with symbols of the first night on earth. Before the dawn broke and the battles waged, before the relief of light. When you thought fear only lingered in the dark. Before your heart jumped at the shadows… Read more
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These days, these long summer days, that swoon to offer memories in fistfuls. Each moment, a bright and blissful jewel of ecstasy, etched effortlessly, into the time-keepers kaleidoscope stone. Luscious and lustful, the sun gives a heady smile, grinning at the first sight of June.Tripping blonde rays over green pools of fresh cut grass – and us, laughing, while small birds gift their morning secrets. It is here,… Read more
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I am a learning-thing. Unpetaling flowers in late spring. Breaking my beak open for a love that isn’t coming. Drunk on the greedy need. Cawing nightlong into the blue-black hollow of absence. Sipping on the scarlet azaleas. Pulling twine from the floorboards of fusty rooms left to dust. Moon-faced on wishing. Your magpie-eyes only gaze wantingly at bursts of… Read more
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Meet me in the courtyard, as the clocks steel hand strikes the midnight hour, when the nights deep blue kisses the leaves of trees – and dew clings, like a creeping thing. Find me in that familiar place, where shadows dance across landscapes, leaving tawny spots atop the hills, swaying between silver-tipped daffodils. You know, the secret place – where the grief… Read more
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I decorate my apartment with words Fashioned like antique furniture. Hanging verbs in frames, catching Light on golden chandeliers. I wear language like a tulle skirt, Twirling tussled words into fabric, Weaving colorful realities round My fingers like jeweled rings. I am a walking poem, A raving manifesto, A kaleidoscope scribe, Spinning words into the… Read more
C.L.LLOYD 