The Color of My Blade Is Chartreuse

by Leslie Binkle

June 9, 2003

Who can compare
the green of a sunset
to the gray of a ham?
Or the scarlet water that trickles down
very nearly without a sound
as the brown sky spans overheadâ€¦
Have truer words been said?

The vivid purple blood
that gushes from a wound
is beautiful on the crimson grass
and the amber skin of an expiring lass.
Striking, like a baboon's blue ass.

When a black sunset burns your retinas to crust
as you admire the canary yellow of a marble bust
and remember all the other girls you've known
and how they never call when you sit home alone.

You know why the orange robin sings
as you bitterly eat the magenta pudding it stings
like a note from a lover penned in turquoise blood
like a body hitting the floor with a thud
or a heart cavity all encrusted with crud.

She never calls like she said she would
and she probably wouldn't even if she could
even if you hadn't chopped her like a violet lemon rind
after that bitch said you might be colorblind.

Quote of the Day

“Impartiality is a pompous name for indifference, which is an elegant name for Cletus, my inbred asscrack of a neighbor about whom I am far from indifferent.”

-CK Festerchild

Fortune 500 Cookie

You wir find gleat rove in an ord flend. That's not an accented translation; you just have a really weird fortune this week. It's time to face the facts, or at least the facts of life: even if you manage to get that face you drew on your hand pregnant, it's just going to be one more mouth to feed. This week's lucky ringtones: Hangin' Tough, Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm, Two Princes, Kokomo.

Try again later.

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