half strangled colors of eviction,
as time proves irrevocably
the folly of our beliefs.
And in the dim light of pause,
mind stuck in the cause of our malaise,
we hardly recognize the impatient reds
of our colored display.
Instead we seek light,
brighter ways to see the truth,
not tinted by the hues of praise,
but the canvas that lays beneath.
For foundation offers relief
as we sort our drastic beliefs,
gleaned so haplessly to survive
the steep inclines of life’s unique purpose.
And in flashing colours we bury ourselves,
surface truths do not help,
when human greed just takes the helm
and manipulates the playing field.
We strangle ourselves,
take breath from weary minds,
as we fall in kind to the malevolence,
the rash, unkind selfishness of lust.
Where then is love,
buried in a shallow grave,
for we seem to not attest its faith in us,
rather taint its very concept?
The warmth of kindness,
soft greens and blues and pink marks affection,
purple in devotion’s name,
gives love a higher plane of existence.
Yet colours are tainted by most,
browns and reds afire in jealousy’s pyre,
as pinks turn dark and dirty in selfish ploys,
and souls so dim of light, like a Trojan horse employed.
If only we could share,
what lives deep within us,
a potential that can save us,
when we have strayed so far.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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