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#lifeinthethirdperson
I. Let me tell you right now that red is my favourite colour But I got it on with blue, some would say that that’s a blunder I wonder is… infidelity the vibe of this poem? Some secret guilt in my mind, that I’ve decided to be owning Up to, I've got to, spill it out of my heart I've had no idea what to say, but I've commited to start A statement that’s an indictment to romantic commitment- So let’s face it: when it comes to love, haven't all of us been sinning? At some point, nobody can claim to never ever have smirked At their own version of the colour red in hoping that it might work Even though your girl’s colour is blue and you know that this much is true… You kinda now desire sunsets instead of plain skies; and thus seek a more maroon hue Skies change with the sun, time influences that But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black. And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… II. Literature taught me that cheating is immoral but understandable From the point of Gatsby and Daisy it’s not even that reprehensible The thing is, I still see the American Dream in another colour No red, white and blue and great starry flag of wonder But being honest to the context I should only omit the white And keep red and blue; so it follows that my greed is merely self-directed spite In this way I am suggesting a hint of hatred towards myself As I’m unable to colour-block my view of my colourless self I mean that I'm disappointed in being able to reduce Myself to old, novel characters…as a result I have deduced That blue and red don't matter when my true colours are grey I’m ashamed in having even having tried (and failed) to pick (just one). But all the same… Skies change with the sun, time influences that But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black. And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… III. Though I'm still wishing that… her sunset becomes my sunrise, and envelops the sky But regretting… her blue fades away, painfully, I’m left to die As the sun will too soon turn to night, driving me to gentle panic I know this now: colourless people always beg for a rainbow because they can never have it. ****** I apologize to blue for making her feel even bluer. I apologize to red for using her to make me feel better. I’m sorry to myself for making myself so bitter. So suddenly has my soul, become colder than this winter... Thus the part of the poem where I conclude with the theme Of the echoes within me which of course are only dead dreams I had looked to you, red and/or blue, in hoping you could redeem Me to your world of colour. But present reality is different, which can only mean That... Skies changed with the sun, time influenced that But listen, honestly, what I felt, was deeper than that Blue and red seemed only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum But actually flowed into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum So my real problem was denial, I wasn't really interested in swinging back Because whenever I saw red again… I couldn't help thinking that blue was just a fade to black. And black scared me because it represented… And black scared me because it represented… And black scared me because it represented… And black scared me because it represented…
0
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
tawandamulalu
Colour.
I. Let me tell you right now that red is my favourite colour But I got it on with blue, some would say that that’s a blunder I wonder is… infidelity the vibe of this poem? Some secret guilt in my mind, that I’ve decided to be owning Up to, I've got to, spill it out of my heart I've had no idea what to say, but I've commited to start A statement that’s an indictment to romantic commitment- So let’s face it: when it comes to love, haven't all of us been sinning? At some point, nobody can claim to never ever have smirked At their own version of the colour red in hoping that it might work Even though your girl’s colour is blue and you know that this much is true… You kinda now desire sunsets instead of plain skies; and thus seek a more maroon hue Skies change with the sun, time influences that But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black. And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… II. Literature taught me that cheating is immoral but understandable From the point of Gatsby and Daisy it’s not even that reprehensible The thing is, I still see the American Dream in another colour No red, white and blue and great starry flag of wonder But being honest to the context I should only omit the white And keep red and blue; so it follows that my greed is merely self-directed spite In this way I am suggesting a hint of hatred towards myself As I’m unable to colour-block my view of my colourless self I mean that I'm disappointed in being able to reduce Myself to old, novel characters…as a result I have deduced That blue and red don't matter when my true colours are grey I’m ashamed in having even having tried (and failed) to pick (just one). But all the same… Skies change with the sun, time influences that But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black. And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… And black scares me because it represents… III. Though I'm still wishing that… her sunset becomes my sunrise, and envelops the sky But regretting… her blue fades away, painfully, I’m left to die As the sun will too soon turn to night, driving me to gentle panic I know this now: colourless people always beg for a rainbow because they can never have it. ****** I apologize to blue for making her feel even bluer. I apologize to red for using her to make me feel better. I’m sorry to myself for making myself so bitter. So suddenly has my soul, become colder than this winter... Thus the part of the poem where I conclude with the theme Of the echoes within me which of course are only dead dreams I had looked to you, red and/or blue, in hoping you could redeem Me to your world of colour. But present reality is different, which can only mean That... Skies changed with the sun, time influenced that But listen, honestly, what I felt, was deeper than that Blue and red seemed only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum But actually flowed into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum So my real problem was denial, I wasn't really interested in swinging back Because whenever I saw red again… I couldn't help thinking that blue was just a fade to black. And black scared me because it represented… And black scared me because it represented… And black scared me because it represented… And black scared me because it represented…
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72
Rather suddenly he said: "What if depression is some kind of middle class ******** Like, for people like us...novelists, dramatists- so we can still write somewhat interesting **** about ourselves even though we don't... I don't know, have some sufficiently dramatic background story? Have you ever figured how many kids in the world are born into armed conflicts? Or survived an encounter in a plastic ******* bag on their first birthday? We can't write about that because we don't know jack **** about it. But it's really, really difficult to read something that's not in some way about you. Do you know what I mean? So you and I, the lucky ones, we have to write stories that we can read. Stories about people likes us: the lucky ones. And to make **** like that interesting we need depressed guys with psychiatrists. So yeah... I'm probably not depressed. At the very least, perhaps desperate for a story."
0
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
tawandamulalu
Not a Poem IV
Rather suddenly he said: "What if depression is some kind of middle class ******** Like, for people like us...novelists, dramatists- so we can still write somewhat interesting **** about ourselves even though we don't... I don't know, have some sufficiently dramatic background story? Have you ever figured how many kids in the world are born into armed conflicts? Or survived an encounter in a plastic ******* bag on their first birthday? We can't write about that because we don't know jack **** about it. But it's really, really difficult to read something that's not in some way about you. Do you know what I mean? So you and I, the lucky ones, we have to write stories that we can read. Stories about people likes us: the lucky ones. And to make **** like that interesting we need depressed guys with psychiatrists. So yeah... I'm probably not depressed. At the very least, perhaps desperate for a story."
Continue reading...
4