Against the Grey
When the rain
has passed and
the sky is left only
grey
there is nothing
but the dull hum of transformers in a switchyard 1.5 miles away
nothing new to see here
just to share a beer
with someone
I do not know
I know I wish it were whiskey
but I am making me strong
no one speaks of the dull drum
of discipline's lungs
breathing and beating
for it is a shadow
and shadows aren't particularly colorful
after the rain
even the sunset is grey
cigarettes don't even taste the same
like a suburban lawnmower in an HOA
personality without any taste
no one speaks of the race
only the glory of first place
but the race is what makes men
and I am being made
by my own will against the
grey
even tombstones
spread wealthily
amongst the green
excite the mind through
the eyes a contrast of colors
to be refined but the grave is on
furlough and our lives the waiting room
skeletons reclined waiting for a phone call
and when work calls
we will answer
I garuntee we will be on time
after the rain
is only a grey sky
same as a green isle
the green in hazel eyes
a patchwork of ancestors'
lives we pride ourselves on
saints enshrined in stained glass lines
upward blow the pipes to the sky that is
still
grey
not a g'damned thing has changed
dull hums in the key of A
a soft protest of the
season's change
a sharp blow
to the side
of the face
and when
standing
be it tall
a rebellious
church against
the rocks beaten by
the seas also soft blows salt
briny foam and every other diadem
set enthroned at the end of glory cometh
on the other side of the
grey
