People take the world as they see it themselves
some see black
some see white
many see grey
as for me?
I see it for what it is....technicolored.

                                                                ­                                  Life is far to wonderful and bright too see it as simple black
                                       it is too deep and mysterious to be only white
it is too exciting and amazing to be described as grey
There's a reason that there is color present everywhere.
If the world were colorless, so life would be.
                                                             ­                                      But the autumn leaves are crimson and gold and apricot
The halls in which we walk are of light saphron and amber
                                                       The city streets in which we trod are spurted with shades of periwinkle and magenta
The meadows through which we stroll have flowers of violet and buds of rose
                                                        The trees with which we have our yuletide celebration are the solemn green
  Life is as we see it
dont be strapped down to bland colors like
                                         grey                     white                              black
Life is color
Furious Scarlet
                            Dejected Sapphire
                                                        ­         Joyful Fuscia
                                                          ­                                    Envious Sage
                                                            ­                                                                 ­       Playful Yellow
Even as you look in the mirror, colors are shown to you.
I see
eyes of chocolate
                                    cheeks of mauve
                                                           ­              teeth of pearl  
                                                         ­                                                 lips of ruby
                                                            ­                                                                 ­              skin of gold
Even my soul is multicolored in all its numerous facets

                                                       Dont let yourself be barred into the cell of neutrality

                                                                ­                                   See life for the rainbow that it truly is.

I’m standing there. Looking in the mirror.
Trying to reconcile the fact
I will never be as beautiful as a fish.

Words are hard.
Make up is harder.
I’m attempting to apply eyeliner. Straight.
My eyes are growing big and my skin is
turning scaly, making it near impossible for an even foundation.
I forget about the eyeliner.
**** it.

You had said something about being the right shade of blue.
You and Karen talked about it in front of the infinite binary tree.
You tried to explain to me the concept,
shades of blue defining us
colors that blend, people that blend
what shade are you?
I didn’t get it.
Still don’t.
I have a slow metabolism.

I look down at my dress.
It’s something like cerulean.
I wonder if it’s an acceptable hue.
Now it’s royal,
robin’s egg.
Suddenly, fuscia.
The fabric feels like water,
it ripples up my torso.

Back to the fish thing-
my neck is turning gilled.
The waves are getting bigger now.
Maybe I’ll go under soon,
fully under water,
be beautiful enough for a trout.

I can hear the ocean in the pipes.
I am ugly land bound.
I am diving down my faucet.

It’s my fault, she’s moving on,
Openness just isn’t a trait of mine.
That doesn’t mean I wanted her gone,
just that I needed more time.

Sorry I ******* things up,
I guess that’s just my skill.
I don’t realise I don’t talk much,
I thought we had time to ****.

Honesty I gave you,
This much is a fact.
Only misery I imparted,
I guess you didn’t need that.

If I could go back to when we began
Take back all my history.
Just enjoy the time,
leaving my pain a mystery.

So as to nurture your smile,
Of such inviting fuchsia.
Fight harder for what we had,
so this would be a brighter future.

Sadly no, there she goes,
I love her more than she could know.
My stupid inch thick armour,
caused me to watch her go.

I will see her again,
I’ll see those lilly white eyes.
I’ll sink inside myself,
and wish I’d told you lies.

She painted her toenails fuscia
& O,
the things she could do
with her pretty feet.

I'M LOOKING
FOR WHAT EVERYBODY IS LOOKING FOR
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO BE DEVOTED TO SOMEONE
THROUGH THE CLOUDS AND DRIZZLE
TOGETHER
REFLECTING ONE OF THE SCATTERED BEAMS OF LIGHT
THAT PIERCES THE DARKENED CANOPY
AT THE END OF THE STORM

TO LAY AMONG GERBERA
IN RED, LAVENDER, FUSCIA
AND OTHER COLORS, PAINTED
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO EVOKE NATURES INSPIRATION
SO RARELY MANIFESTED IN THE HUMAN FORM

AWARE OF THE DEVOTION OF ANOTHER
JOYOUS AT HAVING BEEN GIVEN
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO EXPERIENCE THE STREAM
AND TO FLOW IN IT
WITH YOU

Tackle thonged
Condensed in shimmering lurex.
Flamboyance bursts from flaming wig,
From feathered lashes and from fuscia lips.

Eyes flash and teeth sparkle
In the huge face.

With Cherokee cheekbones and a Roman nose
A pantomime dame becomes a slinky Cher,
A strutting Turner and a slick Minnelli,
Before settling
Into the loose and comfortable robes of a Boy George
We hope has found peace.
We clap and sing,
'Kama, Kama, Kama, Kama , Kama chameleon,'
As this chameleon
Plays out his life story for our entertainment.
And old ladies cheer
And wish him well.

Flamingos r  fuscia
And
Upon
Visual it's soothing mood
Art wild color
wild color red Crazy ur my man

damsel of string;
wait-listing
long tables
full of leftover dribble.

guard of course time;
hamstrung
between yellow and gold
between black and fuscia.

founder of the pulp;
tear your ears off
and grind them into a paste
of vibration and alien blood.

mother of the mirror;
don't look at us.

If I put my hand
On the fogged glass
Will it erase words
So crass
Will it uncover
Clearness
Where there once
Was a strange menagerie
Over the lake's horizon
In a fuscia-water coloured vision
Waking in the early morning
To this realness
Come to life
Had to escape it
And face what
Has passed
Leave it all behind
If I place my sight
In the right place
These fears might slip away
But my dear
Our world is-
A gray-washed haze
My hand releases
From the mirror's grasp
My eyes see through
To what it was at last

The sun was at the perfect angle
a flock of white Florida Ibis
were suddenly transformed
into a luminescent amethyst purple
I stood in awe
what a jeweled sight!
a terrific start to
my morning stroll
I walked down shaded streets
I'd named feng shui way
because of their delightful beauty
A group of trees framed
the China blue sky
and a perfectly formed
pukalani eye peered down at me
One particular house
really captured the
spirit of feng shui
several light and airy gourds
swayed and floated in the soft breeze
the mailbox was surrounded
with mandarin orange marigolds
fuscia colored lantana
and periwinkle
ethereal pink trumpet blossoms
resembling Chinese chime bells
rang silently
and the elegant Oriental
garden gates greeted the
passerby with folded palms
My spirits lifted I finished my walk
with bright smiles, grateful smiles
sailing upward towards the
Star Lord of the solar palace

My children were the mothers of my soul.
Each of them took me to places I had
never been.

When they were babies I learned
through trials the fears that croup
doesn't **** a 3 month old,
that my daughter wore Holly Hobby
and never told me she hated it.

I learned the Sears catalogue by
heart and always bought the 3 pack
of whatever they had on sale.
They never complained.

I was amazed that my daughter
spent her only 50.cents on an
owl for my collection.  Ruby lives
with me today.

They were mine until they
started school.  Then they
we're feral.  

My stretch marks crawl across me
like fuscia rivulets.  I have
left the itch of them behind.

I am a grandmother to strangers.
A mother to voles.  I bred
them out like songs I can no longer

hear.

Caroline Shank

you can make a poem out of a everything. I have my keyboard here and a piece of fabric from the bed bath and beyond catalog, fuscia green with specks of yellow -  
    green hazlemint coffee
and jug bottles line the table. I have a sharpie marker that doesn't work, and some cat socks on me- comfortable. a picture of a woman named Marie on the desk ;; a picture of a Shibanawa  illustration of a head with grey blood and the void of now
" sorry"
   it sounds good, and it feels good,  but what is sorry, if there's no accountability --
     I have no refuge in this storm, and you don't know me