Treasure Island

Marieta Maglas

(19-05-1964 / Radauti, Judet Suceava, Romania)

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.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, July 17, 2013

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  • Daegonius Bonapartae (7/20/2013 7:23:00 PM)

    we, the poets who entered your pathetic book, had to buy the book ourselves and besides this, we got no offers at all. (Report) Reply

  • Daegonius Bonapartae (7/20/2013 7:22:00 PM)

    youre worthless; and you know nothing about science or poetry at all, your a mere dentist, and nothing more. you published me in a book, and made me buy my own entry, youre then most pathetic author on the face of the fucking planet. who else can match my writing as if you dont know. anthology my cunt bitch. nothing came out of it but money to your unintelligible ass. (Report) Reply

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