The creator of surrealism reaches for the edges of reality. It is a form of experimentation and can seem absurd to the rational mind. It is psychic automatism where one expresses a function of thought without the formation of “normal” reasoning. It can be a juxtaposition of concepts and/or thoughts; dream-like or metaphysical images created with words.

     At times it may be a stream of consciousness or automatic writing which may reveal hidden context and meaning locked away in the artists mind….or it can be an associative process spurred by word association.

Freud claimed that surrealist writings were conscious and not of the unconscious. To me it is a form of rebellion against the status quo and a seeking of independent expression. Surrealist poetry may be lacking some in rationality but can be enjoyed for the feeling created with word sounds, meanings, along with certain incendental images. To some, it may be like viewing abstract art.

The Visit   by Richard Lynn Livesay

There is little time… and yet an eternity

I knew the secret followed through anew to end again

(Black-board filled with configured formulas)

Then back to the beginning to change perspectives

The time flew through mystic rivers and marshes

Altered dimensions seeped into parallel universes

And the end to be was yet in future minds

But the unity of existence offered conjunctive hope.

A never ending infinity produced concentric cycles

Embroiled in particles of waves and quantum configurations

We pushed into the curves of convex strings and fabrics.

The fly struggled in the web and prayed in fear:

“A penny for your imaginings”

Life became a struggle to retain solitude in the psychic home

Sense impulses received, opened the forgotten doors

So wheels of time rolled into the breath of pure devotion

Embracing wonder-wishes of spiritual essence; dissolving matter.

Breaking through black holes, we connected interspatially

The other side welcomed us into their delusional deminsion.

Bending back the bitter braids of passions past

Ttin foil pictures bleed into memory lapss and forced collapses

A thousand words delighted mindless wonder until blunder

Sharing all the coded corpsse of godly thunder; put asunder.

We grabbed ungathered worlds of illusion’s confusion