Indiscriminate bombardment will flow
with endless pigmented possibilities;
A cross of Penelope pop-socks and indigo;
Abstruse, the two primary colors;
It must be that brush of butterfly effect
the wild one pulled from under the covers;
Intangible to all but the one who strokes
the canvas with bubbling neon flames;
A smeared showpiece each drop stokes;
Quilted texture of poodle-prairie red
dances with lines of earthy caveman;
Stimulated Muse taunted, empowered;
Passion-ridden poppy colored hands
leave only the most elegant stain;
That backsplash born of bold badlands;
Lush hues of whimsical rain pour out
exiting the smallest tube on the table;
Children’s daydreams fall from it’s spout;
Behind perfectionism a child will lurk,
screaming at you to relax and have fun;
Who cares if it is pristine or patchwork?
silver swords strike
red mountain
exposing the night
flash bang x-rays
bombarding my soul
rattling windows
tin roof deluge
staccato
gushing down my heart
cleansing the gutters
spring shower
desert gold
invigorating my spirit
renewing cactus flowers
fragrant fresh morning
tender breath from above
gentle sun warming
red blossom dripping
sweet nectar of heavenly love
wee hummer sipping
bombardment
strikes
self-esteem
down lowing it
to the floor
trying to resist
all to familiar
urge to sink
into a hole
trying to not
allow the
gray clouds
torrential
downpour to
fill the
hole with
water
trying to stop
myself from
drowning within
a sea of doubt
verbal bombardment
words thrown
like stones
hitting the
heart like
a bullets
striking the soul
leaving behind
an emotional
hole
Big and bold, bombarded with color,
there is an explosion like no other,
bright and frisky,
dull and deluded,
grey and murky not included.
Reds and pinks,
purples and blues,
go great in blocks of twos or threes,
I must fall to my knees,
to try escape the smoke and breeze.
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