Poems (Antimatter – Neo Surrealist One, Variable Reality – Postmodernist One and Others)


Antimatter (Neo Surrealist Poem)

A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the

purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on

the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky,

and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound

became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following

a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space.

The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent.

A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon.

It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where

the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock.

When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be

heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space,

where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything

as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed

wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths.

The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before.

In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon.

Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold.

The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the

soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones.

The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the

red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and

magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock.

The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet.

From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with

colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could

move up and down to see the red light that refracted out of

the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could

imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths

such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow.

The sea shone brightly as a sky full of red and bluish comets having tails like trains carrying hydrogen cyanide.

Strange, sharp and cutting words wounded the mouths stopping the thoughts to breathe.

The Rain

There is a sounding rain

falling down on the waves of the sea.

There is a water singing.

There is a wet song.

There are wet ears

hearing this.

There is a wet feeling of love

developing in the

amniotic sac of the spiritual womb

and needing to be born

within both of us.

Variable Reality (postmodernist poem)

I see my snowy steps disappearing into the

snow. The coldness will swallow them.

The wet winces the snow, wetter than any wince.

I am more involved in a sharp snowless stretch

than I was ever. I forgot that I’m existent. I try

to remember. A cloud is tossing its white to rain.

Nothing never rains outside, everything rains

inside. Everything is tossing firstly before raining.

The trees always feel this. They are existent.

The trees need to be existent. This freezing rain

is breaking the tree limbs. Their branches are

encapsulated in glaze ice. I need my steps back.

I hear a song coming from the coffee house. There

is a coffee stain on my right shoe. I take a taxi to go

nowhere. This rain falls down over the snow blanket.

The snow is existent until it becomes a bed for the

falling rain. I can be existent as long as I’m not cold.

This rain is not a tropical one, and I cannot care less.

There is something moving toward. It’s my body. There

is something having no beginning and no end. It’s the

movement in losing time. Rain and snow need time

to prove their similar personality and their different

appearance. Time is existent. I’m not existent in another

particular time. I can’t come into existence twice.

Love And Butterflies

In their cocoons, mates are

the little butterflies with growing

wings while dreaming

of the sky, dreaming

the flowers.

They need to leave their white

colored balls, because they are

going to find

the clouds

of their dreams.

In the morning,

the butterflies rise up to the sky

from the cocoons.

In the evening,

The soul mates rise up to The Lord

after leaving their


They reach the clouds of Love,

the divine reason

over the human limits.

This rain keeps falling

in both senses.

There is about falling up, my love.

Source by Marieta Maglas

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