Ode To The Surreal

Oh universe, let me see bellow your panties.

The farmer got drunk last night and ran his undershorts up the flagpole.

How often does war evoke the words ‘dirty panties’?

Yes, says the universe, we can not see what lies behind the facade.

Farmers are the Shepards of the world’s food supplies.

War can not conquer love.

Let me see!

Drunk last night,

The blank page is no more.

So, be damned the logic that suffocates the wise and passionate, who love life like a family.

And, let the juxtaposition of images wrench all from their complacencies.

Stand up, wake up, get going!

Dali Vs. Life: Surrealistic

In this dialogue, Salvador Dali, the great surrealist painter talks with Life to gleam the meaning of life. Can they shake each other up and start the conversation?

Life: “Mr. Joyce will you stop my streaming of consciousness for a minute.” I am really trying to use my meditation program to unplug from my devices.

Dali: “You paint with words like I make ‘time drip’ and ‘slip and slide through reality’.”

L: Paper towel, orange, little teeth under the pillow will grow and grow. You better slow and slow before you get whiplash from your dreams.

D: Use misinterpret my life’s work. I am a provocateur or shock and awe to you new children.

L: I am awake. I feel the earth beneath my symmetrical feet. I eat the fruit of spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

D: But, I must make you angry.

L: Yes, but out of gratitude for your gift, I am willing to practice a form of happiness to drag some ‘life’ into the room.

D: But the room is pitch black. How can you see anything?

L: Don’t be silly, I bring the light I give and receive from life savers like my friends and family.

D: Don’t make me blush you great handsome one!

From Poet To Reader

Reading the page, the text suddenly is lifting off the page.

I can see the image of the text displayed in front of me.

There is no reality, only our imagination, it arranges our thoughts into some kind of text image?

But how can I accept this ‘image nation’?

There must be some truth and beauty.

I am not a body and a mind.

What am I?

I see myself resolving into a bright light.

It turned off.

I am remembering a movie from my childhood.

It is called the “Fantastic Voyage”.

Instead of seeing the inside of my body, I am envisioning a surrreal dream.

I can hear myself, I feel warm, I am in warm coffee.

It sure as shit smells like coffee.

I can see light way up, maybe a thousand feet.

I am going to try and swim over to find the shore.

There seems to be an edge or barrier.  I can’t make anything out.

Shit, I know what this is, I am starting to wake up. I am having a lucid dream.

Are you listening to me!


What’s next?

I don’t know.

Beauty and Truth, don’t always look pleasant, the same, or stoic.

To show how it really is, takes a little play acting or showmanship.

The old cliché is to exaggerate the truth to make a point.

Why are you pressing that knife against my flesh?

Look, it is just made out of rubber and it bends, and flops around, it can’t even hurt you.

Salvador Dali famous painting showed a time piece melting in painting with all sorts of distortions, exaggerations, humour and odds and sods.