Flowers dripped in sweat
as the humans started to wilt
under the gaseous star
some called the soul.
Dull patches of brown painted the sky
as shoes assaulted such a peaceful blue.
Gregors walked about, dying
only is apples were in close proximity.
Fragrances sounded so smooth,
18-wheeler's horns smelt like crowded dumpsters in summer,
violins rang without caller i.d.
(no one answered)
feelings demanded to be seen
(pain was wearing a fedora today)
the moon climbed up a ladder
(but not the top rung)
stars sat throughout the cafeteria
(they were so cliquey)
and the day began again.
I wrote this after my Magical Realism class, inspired by the doodle you see that I did a week earlier. In Magical Realism, everything is upside down and magical, the best part being that it is normalized and goes unquestioned. I love that concept. One book we read in that class was The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, which is why I mentioned Gregor (the main character in the book who is human but randomly becomes a cockroach). I wrote this poem as I day dreamed; dreams are something the surrealists studied and tried to recreate through art (whether that was painting, poetry, or fiction). I want to make more magical, surreal art. Here goes.
