why purple

1972

he once said

don’t ask about my favourite colour

I always love things indescribable

because something in me never settles

for me

I would sign over my murdered dreams

I labelled them dark blue dappled with a tint of purple on the edge

because I still believe

always a wayfaring stranger

always a drifter of love

always one of the least understood

but never a flicker of fire to lift the mist

my sorrow encroaches my sanity

I see it as a glory

does nothing mean anything

human being has an inexhaustible supply of enthusiasm 

yet fate is far more endless

then we have another Tuesday

passing landscape out

orange clouds flooring

chords in my heart whispering 

caused me to meditate deeply

how I was once only a kid

blindfolded to experience the ugly world

I learnt to paint my rainbow

later I learnt how to disappear

I am grateful

at least it happened to me

stereotypically

cutaneous sensation

flamboyant gesture

ostentatious insecurity

we are labelled to the fullest

stretched to the farthest

so we can have a personality and be who we really are

ever a day

they die together

who would gather and mourn in grim silence 

nihilistic assertiveness

laments another cynical anonymity

the rest cannot help but ponder

what does that mean?

why purple?

colours never expire

so why purple?

one of the millions bemused

at least it happened to me