Orange is the colour

 
In a range of colors as far as my I can see
The carotene seems to be filled with light energy
Because somewhere in between this red and yellow
I always found that this hue was kind of mellow

Perhaps it was because I had a special blankie
Otherwise I’d wake up feeling kind of cranky
Although the color had faded over the years
To me it felt as bright and fresh with cheer

I was eight and there was just something about it
I remember never really going to sleep without it
It reminded me of my family in younger days
Like bright memories that rise through a haze

It may seem a little childish but I’m a nostalgic
But that blanket and that color felt like magic
Now as I look at old family photos and their styles
The once vivid color never erased their smiles

We sat opposites at a window table    
waiting for breakfast after the bed  
and for me to speak.    
The anaglypta walls still hung to the 70's    
as did the wipeable surfaces.    
    
Each setting had an earthenware vase    
with a single dusty silk rose    
that made me think of teeth    
and castanets. I made myself laugh    
but only inside.    
   
You were avoiding eyes      
as I closed one and lined    
the curve of the vase    
with the sweep of your hair,    
it was a perfect match.    
   
I thought about telling you    
but I knew the silence    
was carrying  our bags to the car    
and eventually out of our home,    
I took a piece of fruit for the journey.    
   
I found it months later rolling around    
the cars footwell, it had lost it's shine.    
   
 

Our statement stood
we couldn’t see them
in this dark night;
our evening’s serum
hindered sight
and their reflection,
brightly designed
for our protection
safety pylons
blared at us to
STOP.

In any case
we hit them hard,
our car spun forward
rubber screeching,
we start screaming,
sparks kept flying-
we closed our eyes

-before we knew it,
we went up in flame.

      
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍    
𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆    
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍    
   
𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅    
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑻𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔    
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒔    
𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔    
   
𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍    
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆    
𝑻𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆    
   
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆    
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚    
𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒏 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒆    
𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒚    
   
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔    
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏    
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒗𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔    
𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈    
   
𝑷𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏    
𝑫𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆    
"𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏,"    
𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆    
   
𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝑪𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒌    
𝑺𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏    
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌    
𝑨 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒅, 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏    
   
𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒆    
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒂'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆  
𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆    
𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆

https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/cdpu1C1WNKHUeGuE9

I didnt walk the mean streets
I drank it down  
salt water on metal  
yellow-red flare of cigarettes  
before they’re crushed under heel  
lighters under spoons glowing bright  
 
growing into adolescence  
with a churn of addiction  
rage flame fanned by  
praise  
for the ability to inflict pain  
 
in the ring  
gloves on  
tears streaming  
fight for your affection boy  
the loser is outside for the night  
and the winner  
 
Oh  
the winner
 
is showered in love and praise  
goaded into deriding the loser  
it was all about the fight  
even when streaks of your own blood  
crusted stains on your shirt  
 
dragged through glass shards  
a patch work quilt of scars  
cut
beaten bloody  
but never beaten  
 
when I came of age  
 
I was the mean streets  
pint-glass in face  
barstool swinger  
a harbringer of hospital visits and  
blood stained pavements  
 
I could dance a dance of violent destruction  
no sparring with words  
merely an off hand gesture  
would call on my wrath  
 
rust flecked words  
formed through clenched teeth  
 
one of us is going to hospital  
cunt
and I
 
I don’t give a fuck which one of us it is!  
 
the only time I felt  
anything but empty  
was when I was full  
of the mean streets

 
Mandatory for dad's garden
grandaddy's too
planted amongst tomatoes
and peppers
to chase the pests away
almost stubborn as dandelions
but wanted

Mixed flame flowers
bloom all through summer
stay steady through fall
to greet leaves
gathering on the ground
to meet them

They are strong
sturdy and humble
braving hurricanes
and lack of rain
a connection
to the men I come from
as I plant them
every year
to keep the vegetables company