Born of a chance ,
occurence of a silent language
who contemplates me
as an abstract object
or some wild artifact...
I learned to read the message
from lips sealed by a shameful
appointment who did not plant
kisses on the toys...
My brave Teddy has gone
to the lie-after of a closet,
warmed by a disabled puppet ...
Surrounded by a few mechanical
bonsai trees with a well oily-look
that popped out of Santa's hat,
thinking they were making me laugh
by dressing up as facetious psychiatrists...
Then I lost myself in fluffy nightmares
that smelled like a shroud
for still alive elderly ...
I was that child of savage rituals
in my sentinel island .
Reppeling all impudent conquerors !
Hero of a wordless story
where Ginger and Buster
hailed a cab under the rain ,
driven by a serial killer ...
Poor backpacker ,untrusting
his sorrow to the birds of boredom...
And life came along ,
laying a speckle of rust
on the demonetized demons.
Lucky hand at the poker table ...
Thanks a lot doc !
A smiling ghost invites me
to taste an elixir of immortality...
Here I am back home .
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 4th, 2025 15:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar, Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments5
Some great images and lines here. Surreal, esoteric with a fog of wisdom buried under word symbols as grave markers. Well done Lorenz
If the world is a madehouse the madmen (and women) are locked outside !
A great surreal poem .
A fav ....
Thank you dear Priya !
You are most welcome .
The combination of childlike sincerity and adult irony creates a vivid duality. This tension makes the text fluid and allows both emotional depth and intellectual distance to emerge. Beautifully written!
I believe that children are great actors who play the game of sincerity !
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