Kit Kelen #1373 - colour chart

1373

colour chart

comes to me

out of the blue

and under glass

through darkly

in the cold grey dawn

bronze of a zipper

and penny rise

gold of sunshone

take the podium

some people are of it

so others aren’t

justice ought to be blind

but I have liked my Martians green

it’s how the grass is always

and thumbs can be

in a jealous rage

let me give you the light

unearthly glow

sip of chartreuse, midori

of the monster eye

and there’s le rayon vert

cobalt crystal

cerulean

(not a cake

effete)

the suits

and ice cream on them

you can pick the flavour

pistachio’s the best

chip choc

in oceans dark with exploration

deeper than the deep

and am I blue?

red rag to

khaki forest

slouch hats

a certain coloured heart

will keep us in the black

some would rather be red hot

and handed

in the face

you see it, don’t you?

back of the spider

belly of snake

paint a town this way

or wagon if you’re off

I’d like a carpet then

hello!

blancmange

the colour of grease

or pâté perhaps

steel is oceanic

of the wind a fable

of money

show me

true colours flying

and dyed in the wool

lightning and fire

to say electric

colour the streak we talk

it’s idle

colours of things

that aren’t at all

the palace pigeon grey

shit down the walls

or merely mud?

I raise a white flag

like my lies like this

every tune is clouded in hue

and threads are a chord

the trumpet is a colour sung

and every number is for me

white for one and five for the sea

two is blue too

yellow’s my three

cross palm with silver

hope not to die

and on the screen

still, you’ll like this lining

coded

Cuisenaire

black as

(here we go again)

night was

(nothing to see here

[unless you’ve skin in the game])

or, like the handshake, golden

fleece for a first ship sail

ouch timbers

and blue

must mean we had one

pitch and toss

like a certain sheep

or as in a contract

wait till the whites of their eyes

but they’re not colours, are they?

raise or lower tone

on a beautiful blue Sunday

(month of maybe)

bolt from the blood

win the ribbon

inspiring

green envy

purple prose

some sop

a little milky like the way

garden where we gather

is colour of a rising

of a name

say Genevieve or Simon

the cello

or some other tuning

Open D, let’s say

blue murder

in the cold grey dawn

lick lips for cheese and dip

are colours

a cracker is

egg is a flag to flutter fry

the pan

Latin or Chinese?

fireworks, in stone?

shall we sail then under false colours?

not in a pink fit!

(but in the very elephant of

not too matchy though)

I always liked the lemonade

some not at liberty to say

colour of my sock, this soul

such things as won’t be known