The Surrealist / Stream of Thought writing Thread
- Thread starter AchrisK
- Start date
V.V.V.V.V.
Houses Ov Mercury
mutantllama
Active Member
V.V.V.V.V.
Houses Ov Mercury
seedofvengeance
Boosh!
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
Dazed and Brutal
Yall About to Witness
V.V.V.V.V.
Houses Ov Mercury
Dazed and Brutal
Yall About to Witness
DarkBliss
...And okra for all
A phone conversation:
A: Hello.
B: Is it Mr. Schpock?
A: yes, who's babbling?
B: It's my mother. Tell that dear hermophrodite of yours to come and mow my dark hairy grotto when he returns from his goat splicing contest.
B: how are you fucking him over...hmm I mean what are you paying him?
A: five kidney stones per an acre of skin flora, as we agreed.
B: moo moo.
A: too too to you moo.
A: Hello.
B: Is it Mr. Schpock?
A: yes, who's babbling?
B: It's my mother. Tell that dear hermophrodite of yours to come and mow my dark hairy grotto when he returns from his goat splicing contest.
B: how are you fucking him over...hmm I mean what are you paying him?
A: five kidney stones per an acre of skin flora, as we agreed.
B: moo moo.
A: too too to you moo.
panzerfaust666
German Asshole
V.V.V.V.V.
Houses Ov Mercury
...No. M&Ms are solely chocolate flavored. Straight milk chocolate. The chocolate Skittles include flavors like brownie batter and I think dark chocolate in addition to a vanilla creme tbh
Ender Rises
Wass sappening?
A ceiling fan with scythe blades churns the air in this home, buster brown. Cuz we all needs some air churning. I know I do. Without air churning we would live forever in a little cage with a cellmate who has a fetish for your feet and a coaxial cable with your TV's name on it. The hangers command me to do terrible acts against those who would threaten the sanctity of calenders with horses on them.
seedofvengeance
Boosh!
I went out and bought some when you guys first started posting about it and no one got it when I kept calling them shittles. Eh, the personal comedy was fun anyways.
The Ozzman
Melted by feels
Valerie
¯\(ã)/¯
- Aug 29, 2005
- 6,765
- 4
- 38
Einherjar86
Active Member
I don't do much stream of consciousness stuff. But I love surreal writing. Here's a poem I did after a few nights of nightmares:
The Nine Foals of the Night Mare
Of a night I went to sleep and did not wake:
A night as dark and deep as any sea,
In which I drowned a thousand times or more.
With fear my lungs were risen to the brim.
My bed-sheets; cold as winter ice they were,
And seeped into my skin, their talons latched.
My tears did freeze upon my darkened cheeks,
Though cry them I did not know I had done.
My mind was soaked and heavy with lament,
As like a dampened rag hung in the cold
And shaken in the hardened northern gust.
My heart cried forth in agony and pain,
And as its scream ran rampant through my veins
My muscles tensed and withered like the rose
That cannot stand against the cold and dry:
My soul is battered, crippled by my curse!
The moonlight does not shine for me;
My night is black as black can be.
My death was shown to me as visions rose
Before my mind’s eye, like a dreamer’s trance
Induced by some hallucinogenic drug;
Some opiate ingested unawares.
My thigh was struck by some rapacious teeth,
As though it was being eaten from within;
It fires my nerves and leaves them numb and vexed;
I claw upon my flesh with nervous nails.
The harpies fall upon me like a plague,
The weight of Charybdis presses on my frame,
The sirens beckon me with tainted grace,
As sail I do through dreamscape oceans vast
That roll through ages of the human race
And fall upon the shores of ruined lands,
Where slaughtered dreamers roam in somnolent bands
And sing a dirge both haunting yet unheard.
Their dreams fall short on shores of Lethe,
Which flows to seas of drought, and death.
Nine black foals I imagined came before
Mine eyes and pulled behind them my demise;
A terror great but indescribable.
Now where have all my words of terror gone?
I’m speechless as a babe without a tongue,
Incapable of any expression at all,
Except for what my eyes reflect. The storm
Now gathers up before my weakening soul,
And all resolve floods forth from out my limbs
Like air that seeps from out a pierced balloon,
And limp go all my passions and desires.
I’m stranded on a barren rocky isle.
I’m left behind on cliffs with broken wings,
And stranded on a bark without a sail;
There’s no escape for me now from this fate,
There’s no salvation granted from the gale.
I cower in defeated pose,
And flounder in repeated prose.
The nine foals of the night mare carry me
Into a world that’s all bereft of time;
A world where tortured beings damn their gods
To raise their hopes from out a hopeless vale.
My heartbeat slowly weakens in the wake
Of all this; my eternal curse of sleep.
The light of day shall never greet my eyes
Again, nor part the curtains of my room.
Oh gods of night, where hence has fled my sun?
Oh gods of sleep, where hence has fled my morn?
I’m stranded within my eternal plight
Of madness, and of sickness, and remorse.
Oh Father, why hast thou forsaken me;
Damned me to rot in this forgotten hall?
And so resign to sleep; I sign my peace
And hurl all hope into the limitless sea.
If a ship may come my tale to keep,
Let it find me in a dreamless sleep.
The Nine Foals of the Night Mare
Of a night I went to sleep and did not wake:
A night as dark and deep as any sea,
In which I drowned a thousand times or more.
With fear my lungs were risen to the brim.
My bed-sheets; cold as winter ice they were,
And seeped into my skin, their talons latched.
My tears did freeze upon my darkened cheeks,
Though cry them I did not know I had done.
My mind was soaked and heavy with lament,
As like a dampened rag hung in the cold
And shaken in the hardened northern gust.
My heart cried forth in agony and pain,
And as its scream ran rampant through my veins
My muscles tensed and withered like the rose
That cannot stand against the cold and dry:
My soul is battered, crippled by my curse!
The moonlight does not shine for me;
My night is black as black can be.
My death was shown to me as visions rose
Before my mind’s eye, like a dreamer’s trance
Induced by some hallucinogenic drug;
Some opiate ingested unawares.
My thigh was struck by some rapacious teeth,
As though it was being eaten from within;
It fires my nerves and leaves them numb and vexed;
I claw upon my flesh with nervous nails.
The harpies fall upon me like a plague,
The weight of Charybdis presses on my frame,
The sirens beckon me with tainted grace,
As sail I do through dreamscape oceans vast
That roll through ages of the human race
And fall upon the shores of ruined lands,
Where slaughtered dreamers roam in somnolent bands
And sing a dirge both haunting yet unheard.
Their dreams fall short on shores of Lethe,
Which flows to seas of drought, and death.
Nine black foals I imagined came before
Mine eyes and pulled behind them my demise;
A terror great but indescribable.
Now where have all my words of terror gone?
I’m speechless as a babe without a tongue,
Incapable of any expression at all,
Except for what my eyes reflect. The storm
Now gathers up before my weakening soul,
And all resolve floods forth from out my limbs
Like air that seeps from out a pierced balloon,
And limp go all my passions and desires.
I’m stranded on a barren rocky isle.
I’m left behind on cliffs with broken wings,
And stranded on a bark without a sail;
There’s no escape for me now from this fate,
There’s no salvation granted from the gale.
I cower in defeated pose,
And flounder in repeated prose.
The nine foals of the night mare carry me
Into a world that’s all bereft of time;
A world where tortured beings damn their gods
To raise their hopes from out a hopeless vale.
My heartbeat slowly weakens in the wake
Of all this; my eternal curse of sleep.
The light of day shall never greet my eyes
Again, nor part the curtains of my room.
Oh gods of night, where hence has fled my sun?
Oh gods of sleep, where hence has fled my morn?
I’m stranded within my eternal plight
Of madness, and of sickness, and remorse.
Oh Father, why hast thou forsaken me;
Damned me to rot in this forgotten hall?
And so resign to sleep; I sign my peace
And hurl all hope into the limitless sea.
If a ship may come my tale to keep,
Let it find me in a dreamless sleep.
Einherjar86
Active Member
I appreciate any constructive criticism. I know there are a few lines that break the meter. I've tried to work with some of them, but a few have probably eluded me. Anything you can offer would be great. Thanks bro.
Also man, some of your writing is reminding me of Mark Danielewski, the author of the book House of Leaves, who was in turn influenced by beat writers like Kerouac and such. Really cool, creative stuff. I love the stream of consciousness stuff, it's just not my writing style. Great stuff though.
