It’s that time of year
People start talking about feeling blue
Having the Blues.
Where did that come from?
I don’t get it, see, for me
Blue is clear skies
Wide smiles
Carefree laughter.
Blue is a sweet infinity.
Blue is ever after.
I don’t fear blue.
Blue is tattoos
And suede shoes.
Blue is my lover’s eyes;
I love blue!
Black, now.
Black dog on your back
Black mood
Black-eyed Susan,
Down in the dark
I don’t fear black.
Black’s cool!
Black you can decorate -
like stars in a night sky.
Black is stillness. Silence.
Black doesn’t ask why.
Black is a blank slate
For projections on my closed eyelids
Sleep in darkness and awake in light.
Black doesn’t last.
Orange, however...
Orange is my enemy.
The opposite of blue:
Wild, sleepless,
Nervous snickers
Orange doesn’t rhyme!
Nothing links to orange!
Unnatural, fast-moving, out-of-control,
Bitter taste in my throat,
Stinging eyes,
Brightly-coloured lies,
Hackles rising...
Shut up, orange!
(noisy bastard)
And then there’s grey.
Grey does scare me.
Grey’s a maze of blank walls
A pall of cloud, sour
A stale-breathed blanket wrapped around your head.
Thick with the taste of mildew,
And the smell of dead hair
And sick grandparents.
Grey’s a fog, suffocating fire
Leaching sensation until everything looks the same,
Smells the same,
Tastes the same,
And people vanish.
I don’t want grey
Grey stops my breath,
Numbs my fingers,
Clouds my eyes,
Muffles music.
No. No grey.
Give me a cool, blue day
And a warm, red night
(which is a different poem altogether…)
Anytime.
Give me all the colours of the world.
(except for orange, of course)