I am use to writing in every color I think in
Brushstrokes that fill the empty canvas
Creating a scene out of a surreal dream
Blue birds basking on barriers of brevity
Red ridicule reduced to rhetoric and reason
These are the strokes of the stained brushes
The pails of paint that flow from my mind
Like a gift from whatever God there may be
Orange outrageous ovals of outcropped oysters
Green grateful guardians of gargantuan genius
The blending of flickering minds and colors
Creating God's sketch of something so great
Its the pictures I see, that I cannot resist
Yellow youngsters yodeling in yearling youth
Purple problems of powerful permanent poverty
The message in the universal frame above us
Hanging in the doorway of selfless behavior
That is why I write in every color I think in
Interpret it anyway your heart desires.
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