Written for Stormy's Poetry Contest. Dedicated to the Blueshirt Underground. 2/19/2018.
Dancing red and orange on the horizon
Beckons me like a moth to a flame.
I don't know why I see the red and orange
Lighting the sky ablaze like the dawn.
I pause and ask why the colors are rising,
Glowing bright, but the answer's the same.
Ev'rything's covered in grey, a ghostly hue;
Shreds of blue litter the street corners.
I hear crying, and the word "why" echoing
Throughout the streets with remnants of blame.
Any passerby would not stop in this town;
A town whose innocence is long gone.
Walking through this shell of a town, I see pain;
Despair is worn like a cloak of shame.
Carelessly stacked boxes of junk burn to ash
Unseen by both victims and mourners.
I glance around; still red and orange everywhere.
I hear shouts of, "Not another game!"
Flooding the streets, drowning out those who dare weep.
Conclusions drawn now appear forgone,
And the town is selling, not buying at all;
Though no one wants their decrepit, lame,
Wares they're peddling at a place called Madison;
A garden once fair, but now—horror.
Still, I see colors setting the sky ablaze;
Passersby still decry and defame
The town, cherished by the Underground dressed in blue;
A town, once vibrant, but now withdrawn.
A proud town, now imprisoned with no way out.
A town, now ablaze, longing to hear
With a shout, "We now have the big silver cup!",
And to see blue fall on frozen water
To extinguish the blazing orange and red.
The town, better than what it became
Will be victorious—no longer hidden.
'Til that day, the glowing town smoulders.
Contest Words: unseen, street, corners, boxes, victims, innocence, shell, ghostly, & passerby
Form: none, but some mildly scattered rhyming