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The Truest Colour Is…
…none
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A poem by Ross Edward Fortune Lombardi
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The Truest Change
The Truest Flavour
The Truest Number
The Truest Touch
The Truest Scent
The Truest Colour
None of these may be what you think.
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When revolutionaries wave their banners
Equal but opposite social reaction inevitably happens
Wild uncontrolled elastic snaps back and harms
The innocents are harmed for a so-called “greater good”
And for your rag on a bloody stick
When quiet respect for others has more impact than a marching mob
Then truest change is some
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The Truest Flavour
The Truest Number
The Truest Touch
The Truest Scent
The Truest Colour
None of these may be what you assume
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Our tongues do not all act the same
Or like the same spices, sweet of dry
Why does it matter if he wears a dress or not?
If to save total strangers they are so unselfishly,
Willing to sacrifice themselves and die
When our mortal senses fool us constantly
Then the truest flavour is Yellow
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The Truest Number
The Truest Touch
The Truest Scent
The Truest Colour
None of these may be what you heard
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I “RED” the word for tolerance in ancient Latin was tolerantia
Unless you know ancient Latin the tolerantia means mere gibberish
What they tell us to find offensive is only a sound
That has no meaning to us at all
IF we do not know that same language
If groups can only make such bad decisions
Then the truest number is one
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The Truest Touch
The Truest Scent
The Truest Colour
None of these may be what you are told to feel
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All our feelings are held deep down
Bleeding long after flesh has visibly healed
All our hates, our loves, our fear feel the same to us all
The same all over,
Whether white, black, or brown
When these human constants mean so much more than our base clay perception
Then the Truest touch is inside
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The Truest Scent
The Truest Colour
Sniff! Sniff! Sniff!
What do you smell?
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When the colour Green rules with such a mighty fist
Manifesting as jealously, nature, greed, or paper.
Vile hate can make us all so much wealth
A stench of social conflict is both promised and promoted,
As social righteous ranting preaching
When constant bull shit is forever shoved up our collective noses
Then the truest scent is truth
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The Truest Colour
Do not trust what you think you see.
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What we call steam is not really steam
Just a cloud of dramatic huff and puff
What we label a fellow human is not the real them
Just silly fixation on the visible,
And loud “look at me” tangible stuff
When the unseen vapour of a kettle is the only real steam
Then the truest colour is none
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The Truest Change
The Truest Flavour
The Truest Number
The Truest Touch
The Truest Scent
The Truest Colour
None of these things I am required to believe,
Seems to be quite right, to me
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In essence, no colour really ever exists
Not taste, nor smell, nor physical touch is real to anyone other than us
Is it any wonder I get so enraged and pissed?
Like a brain in a bony jar,
We pollute our souls with childish lies
From fallible meat cameras, microphones, and nerve endings
Instead of wanting to see the reality of each of us inside!
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Is it so much to ask that we love and respect each other?
Instead of indulging hate and bile used to delude us all?
That we are not so impotent in our little meagre lives?
Unfounded, pretend pixie dust pride will cause our fall!
.
When life is hard enough with life's grinding menusha
The constant shopping, the forever cleaning, and the kids as well
We are all far more alike than different
We do not need to do THIS lying crap to ourselves as well!
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When the truest change is Some
When the truest flavour is Yellow
When the truest number is One
When the truest touch is Inside
When the truest scent is Truth
When the truest colour is None
Then the rage at our species stupidity engulfs my reason
I lose my limited humanity and fragile empathy
I look down at you all and spit regretfully…
“SCREW THIS!”
“I AM NOW DONE!”
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So, take your beliefs to fight so hard for
So, take your personal taste
So, take your group, or pack that back you up
So, take your sensual lingering touch of skin
So, Take all your perfumes and bottles as well!
So, Take the colours you only think you see.
So, ALL These stupid excuses used to harm each one,
Each other
And one another.
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Shove them ALL right up your earthbound arses!
And STOP making…
… your own your totally unnecessary earthbound hells!
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About the Creator
Ross E Fortune Lombardi
Writer. Gamer, Goth
A (Constantly Failing To Be Funny) satirist!
Mutare non est meum
Cantus moriar
BLOG:
http://lombot.co.uk
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