Black and White
Black and White
How easy it would be
If the edges of the world were crisp, concise and clear;
How sharp they could be.
All the better to carve out your own niche
And tear to shreds your hands, pouring forth a fountain
Of answers wrapped in ribbons of your flesh
And to slice open your throat.
How easy it would be
If the laws did not waver in their potency nor in application;
How orderly it could be.
The hard and fast rules: ponderous weights tied around pencil thin necks,
Or: hard and fast clubs raining hellfire and brimstone on the skulls of criminals,
Displacing needless thoughts and brain matter.
When the world's lines blur,
It is the gentle embrace of a mother.
Gone are the harsh, glaring disfigurements of reality
Mollified by tender affection and attention
Life's judgment grays.
Having juxtaposed black and white,
The gray interloper extrapolates with a snide, unctuous grin,
Lubricating himself to fit between the bosom pair.
Darkness fades and lends herself to gray demands.
Light fouls and sullies her pristine self until that even is a façade.
Nighttime, a time for adultery, murder, arson and jaywalking,
A time for studies, for quietude, for all matters intellectual;
Daytime, a time for passionate love, for new life, for relaxing walks spent smelling the roses.
For disgracing one’s own, for parading about with a semi-automatic in hand, for spewing curses and naming anathema
Were the world solely black and white,
Lacking the array of shades,
There would be no depth to drown in.
There would be only absolutes,
Ripping the naturally gray humans down the middle
In their sick tug of war, their fight for dominance.
Who knew monochromatic rainbows were so beautiful?
And how utterly disgusting perfect clarity was?
How easy it would be
If the edges of the world were crisp, concise and clear;
How sharp they could be.
All the better to carve out your own niche
And tear to shreds your hands, pouring forth a fountain
Of answers wrapped in ribbons of your flesh
And to slice open your throat.
How easy it would be
If the laws did not waver in their potency nor in application;
How orderly it could be.
The hard and fast rules: ponderous weights tied around pencil thin necks,
Or: hard and fast clubs raining hellfire and brimstone on the skulls of criminals,
Displacing needless thoughts and brain matter.
When the world's lines blur,
It is the gentle embrace of a mother.
Gone are the harsh, glaring disfigurements of reality
Mollified by tender affection and attention
Life's judgment grays.
Having juxtaposed black and white,
The gray interloper extrapolates with a snide, unctuous grin,
Lubricating himself to fit between the bosom pair.
Darkness fades and lends herself to gray demands.
Light fouls and sullies her pristine self until that even is a façade.
Nighttime, a time for adultery, murder, arson and jaywalking,
A time for studies, for quietude, for all matters intellectual;
Daytime, a time for passionate love, for new life, for relaxing walks spent smelling the roses.
For disgracing one’s own, for parading about with a semi-automatic in hand, for spewing curses and naming anathema
Were the world solely black and white,
Lacking the array of shades,
There would be no depth to drown in.
There would be only absolutes,
Ripping the naturally gray humans down the middle
In their sick tug of war, their fight for dominance.
Who knew monochromatic rainbows were so beautiful?
And how utterly disgusting perfect clarity was?