the colors everywhere

our cameras tell lies about
the passions of the moment;
the agony of our unrest
the bickering we foment –

the fulsome nature of our praise
about our present heroes;
the ones we add up endlessly
are just so many zeroes –

and yet the colors everywhere
would tell a different tale:
there’s only silence in success
and fanfare when we fail –

habituated as we are
to everything we want,
we clang the bells of innocence
and come to a détente

with all the pain the truth can cause.
we live in noise called quiet —
and watch reflections on a lake
as though it was a riot

within what we don’t understand,
denial comes to bear —
but truth is there, beyond the lens,
the colors

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s