Published September 28, 2011
I know of the sun, of the light that pours over your tongue,
as you talk, talk, of it. I am a weight upon this image;
a shadow. I spread my black paint over all of your flowers,
leave my sooty hand print, etched in thick lines over your face.
I cannot help but to see grey where you see oranges and yellow.
The colours of the sunset are tainted, and I have accepted this blackness.
But if God were to listen, as I crook my head towards his sky, and
beam down for me a new set of eyes, I would snatch them up and
pluck these wretched, dull marbles from their ghastly caves, snip
away the rusty flesh and blow torch my face ‘till clean, and rid of
the remains. My old hands would stitch, with careful, white silk, these
new God balls, into my polished and perfumed pits. Now I can see.
But could I not before, was my vision not tainted at all? Was it you
who were the fool, who dreamed up these colours to amuse your
own pleasure. In hazes and hues my parents sprayed out for me, I
am of your kind again. I am a child. I am not bent out of shape by
an Uncle who tucked my hand into his metal crotch, by the shot gun
of vowels hurled at me by a mass in blue uniform. My bones are brass
pillars, my skin as solid and smooth as the river I once dared to drown me.
I am a new man, with a new Mother, she has not abandoned me yet.
Left me sunk into the back seat of a dim blue car, folded between my duvet
and pillows. She has not yet left this memory at the window, where she
never waved goodbye, nor lost herself in her garden, where she buries all of her time.
I am colour-blind, though colours are all that I see. They flash at me, and like vomit
Project chunks of garish untruths over buildings and trees and words. I am
distracted by their Noisy performance and I rebuke them fashionably.
I will water the world down, reformed to shades of sepia and grey, back, back, back to you. Back,
back to me.
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140,633 Literary Works • 673,571 Reviews
Thank you! You're very sweet to say that
I'm so happy you like it 
Hi HausofDay =)
I don't know how to begin to tell you how absolutely stunning this is. It totally is. It's the epitome of stunning. I'm stunned.
The only thing I may have to critique is your sentences; they became a tad wordy and long to where I had to backtrack to grasp the imagery. With that said, it wasn't a problem to me because every word married together in this poem made for an amazing read with a lot of emotional impact.
I totally admire your style; it's what I strike for as a writer because it's very real, deep and moving. Brava.
~Ceely
Wow!
I loved this poem to bits. I wished I wrote it. I like your layout, and I think you broke it into verse really well. I cannot spot any mistakes other than the ones that the previous commenter pointed out already.
I like how you referred to colours to describe the past. And then I like how when all your saw was grey, you mentioned all the others who saw in colour. It was interesting how you wanted 'new eyes' as you put it. I found it really interesting when you started to question if it was her who need the new eyes after all...
I loved it!
Deanie x
Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll try to edit it today. I slept on it before and now I think I'm prepared to make the right adjustments.
It is very moving. I liked how you used the concept of colour blindness to show the way that the past distorts your vision. It is very true. When people see the sun and the beauty of life, you only see the shadows, due to the past. I like the way you gave tidbits away about the past while mixing it into the poem. Your flow was superb in my opinion and I wish I could make my poetry flow like that.
My problems were these.
The words: God balls, confused me. Why would you call them that? I understand that God made them, but I still think they'd be called eye balls.
Over all, they're very minor mistakes.
I love the last line. I'm sure that will stick with me.
Ciao!