Neon Sophistry
Viewing humanity’s choice of color identity,
the neons of life come in demanding hues,
the purple haze of memories
flickers upon the green of regret,
the orange of pain.
How demanding these colors,
making many defenseless to their impact,
the wash of colors coalescing into a blur
of lost identity so prevalent at the tables,
the slots,
the bar games.
Conscious senses reel with confusion
where purple invades green
and battles to become red,
the passion that stares back for honesty.
Running past the many neons of life solves nothing,
save the disappearance of red,
our blood grounded color of passion
a lift from the palette that asks only for honesty.
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Love ya!
Jane
I have found that watching several performers recently from the sixties and seventies that they do a phenomenal job. I will remember not to catch a performance of Arrowsmith. I think I would be disappointed with the Stones as well.
Ron
about them until reading this poem. And where but in LV
would they clash, complement, or stir with so much intensity.
Glad you enjoyed the Cirque du Soleil in "O."