Freedom to speak.

That pink fluff is not
candy floss.
Forecasts shuffle
on the border line
between your lair
and mine.

Orbits change in
eye blinks
lens zooms
a shutter
click, click, clicks.

Death on the market
floor.
The Pound shored up
by the Dollar
at war with the
Yen.

Brown, white and
yellow go to war,
red steps from
the roulette table.

Black is not a colour,
it has no shades or
depth it does not
absorb or reflect

The prism explodes
From white
The source of all light
and every hue under
the sun emerges
from nothing.

Fairness
is a matter of degree,
decreed by courts of
last resort.
The strong
oppose the proletariat to
keep the status quo.

The pink dissolves
to blue and indigo
and so it goes to
black before the
white moon rises.
Safety is not found
under the sun.

Night
envelopes the little
people,
In its folds revolt is
born.

-Dave Kavanagh.

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