Got through eight chapters of rewriting and revising today! Very cool.
I suppose I should try to get through a ton more tomorrow, what with the end of the world on the 21st and all. Though I'm not sure anyone would be able to read it in that event.
All those post-apocalyptic films always freaked me out when I was a kid. I mean geez, it was like even the colors were wiped out. Oh, that reminds me. I did promise you poems some time back, didn't I? Well now's as good a time as any, seeing as I have this simple little one all about color. Here goes:
COLOR (a poem by Susan)
In my revolution, bright red would be
Right beside bright blue--
Brilliant, eye-stabbing colors,
Wet your pants vividness that would make almost everyone
Pick up and move to someplace opposite
Of where they are right now.
Sure, ideas are nice,
But ideas aren't what's kept
All of us from killing ourselves
Over and over again.
We're all still here
For the colors.
The colors really are all
We have--maybe patterns,
But even patterns require
Colors. I have come to
That grey place many times
In my own life.
When the list of
"Things that make me happy"
Began and ended with nothing--
When staying around just to be
Sad or pissed wasn't even an option,
Suddenly, in a flash, I'd remember:
The color of some sign down on the
West side of town and I'd miss it
And I'd have to go see it and, so
Again I didn't die. I think
A lot of people die in hospitals
And not because they were so sick to start with.
Their food is monochromatic, usually beige--
Depression rates are likely higher in the areas where
Winter is just one color,
Sky-to-ground grey.
I suppose even blind people
Imagine in color.
Color feeds our eyes like
Smell feeds the memory.
People who don't bore you, are memorable,
Are called colorful. Language
You long to use in certain situations
Is also colorful.
Rainbows, prisms, crystals, water droplets--
These things hold color by the handful.
Color belies sameness
Making it revolutionary.
And in my revolution,
Color will never run dry.
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