chemical imbalance brushing
nails done in arylide

yellow on the margins of the
fringe of the outside

wrapped around a coffee cup of
fiji kava kava —

poured into a throat converting
water into lava

steam approaching maximum and
streaming ever higher

yellow on the margins of the
fringe of desire

Colors – Blue and Yellow

Not loyalty and cowardice,
but innocence and sunlight intermixed;
not royalty or avarice,
these symbols of the mutable unfixed
that mark the inner windows of the mind --
the kindly human part of human kind.

I ask these colors now for purity:
a resting place mid tones of sympathy:
assuredness and that needs no surety,
and silent emphasis in empathy
through portals into veterate regard --
these soft-lit corridors of way-too-hard

that stretch in endless darkness and decay,
that reach beyond words anyone could say,

but no less turn to truth, like night

to day

Colors are like touch…

Colors are like touch, they can mean more
Than any words could say. When chosen well,
They may speak of the flags of ancient war
Of years ago, forgotten. Or may tell

Of pageantry, adventure, and romance –
The glorious and blazing sight of she
Or he, who braved the monster or the dance,
And kept throughout their great integrity.

Our favorite teams, or superheroes can
Always be told from others by the hues
In which they’ve long performed: woman or man,
Have colors known from helmets down to shoes.

  Other times, though, it is understood
  That colors just mean… colors. Which is good.