See how the colours shift -
with each fractional adjustment
I'm met with a 360 revolution
emblazoned horizon to horizon
a panchromatic world of beauty
in a constant state of flux,
with variations,
both major and minor,
circling round 
with each marginal movement
of my creator's hand.

Rainbows crashing into my house,
Busting through the windows
and smashing up the place,
Like great big
colourful things,
You used to be all white you did -
What happened?

here i bleed colours
of insanity,
what i see, of what i hear
what i think, what i wear
and when i'm not wearing
any skin.

wearily my eyes catch
glimpses of universe,
and of much beyond-
in those colours dancing
on the walls of my keep-
just as i fall asleep,
never wanting to wake again.

there's pain, and then
there's nothing,
absolute in its chaos-
so true, loyal to its creed,
it never bleeds an ounce
of anything, no matter
how much you scream at it.

there's nothing true,
not even the light
even the moon-light
splits in seven
on day, and past eleven
if you hold a prism
up close.

and yet here,
in this tiny room
with no doors-
the colours dance for me,
and i'm not even blinking.

thinking about all those
curses, that still plague me-
ghosts and evil and friends,
and laughing my head off-
as i put my head in the ***.

maybe i'll finally lose it
before the night ends.

such charming colour every bloom*
richly decorating the room
a Grecian vase held an array
spring's loveliest hues did display

the eye captured by flowers
profuse each ones gorgeous powers
of orange and white highlighting shay
with olive green leaf midst the lay

portraying an artistic glory
petals of impressionist's story
the painter scented beauty at play
applying the tones of May

such charming colour every bloom
*on applying the tones of May

I've never been fond
of the colour red.
I found it loud,
inexhaustible.
Arrogant.
I felt small around red,
an anger
that I was neither loud,
inexhaustible,
nor arrogant.

I found a home
in grey
and they called me
the grey woman,
equal parts white,
and black.
Neither here,
nor there.
Quiet,
passive,
contemplative.

How does
a grey woman
navigate a world
built for red men?

I met a man,
who was a fan
of Pink Floyd
who reminded me
that pure white
is a rainbow
and from then
I no longer saw grey
as equal parts
white and black.

Now I paint
my nails red
and lay down beside
that Pink Floyd man
every night.

He reminds me of red.
That's why I like him.

Sometimes the day smiles
shows me its colour.
No, then the wild blue yonder
doesn’t look to be far
I feel like I got the wings to fly.

But who would sway away
when the rose under the nose
floating on a sea of colour?

The luminary punter too
drops down from the sky.
Paints the broad daylight
as it sails down on its silky way.

Ah, the southern breeze
bends with the rose of the day
peeps in the colour before my eyes.
I could only see missing my butterfly.

When colour dies,
      obituaries of the past
fade away of what was bitten
                                 into so easily.

Now everything is
                              black and white
so clearly picked..

Time and again the sun
been through the black box
and comes out of the dark night
absolutely smelling of roses.

Ah, the dreaming firstlight!
Stunned roses lost for words
every bird wakes up singing a song
but the breakthrough sun won't stop!

The grey twilight is a sigh
the sun vanishes away.

Saves every drop of colour
as if it hasn't got a clue
its far from the shades of the blue.

Deep into the dark black night
the light of the day goes unseen.
There is a sea within!
Wish, if only it can colour in.

Two bears lie on my arm.
They show my mother and me.
The love for her is permanent,
It's tattooed on my skin.

A whale sits on my foot.
It has no loving feeling.
It's a funny little story,
Impulse control got the best of me.
so now that sad whale,
is tattooed to my skin.

Little croc, he rides my shoulder
He's holding a balloon.
First piece in colour, but i need more
tattoo 3 is a permaddition to my skin.

My next piece will ride my side.
the story is a little sadder,
Traditional style in blacks and blues,
An iceberg to show my secrets.
An iceberg to show pain and sorrow,
Hidden deep below.
That tattoo inspires,
to make me wanna be better.
So I think it's a fine addition,
A new tattoo to add to my skin.