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