My earth is just orange
Like my brain that tugs at your mind
Like my heart, that changes no colour
Like the rain drops that beg at your feet
However, the water is green, the mud yellow.
Don’t misunderstand, my earth is just orange.
The smoke is blue that rises above the ocean
And blends with the clouds in merriment
The trees are tired of the plague that infects them
No flowers to pretend, enact, or sing.
The birds are long dead and gone;
The men continue to overachieve,
And from my crummy window where not much is seen.
My earth is still orange.
The grass sings a different tune
They are angry and failed soldiers with no revenge.
Their corpses lie scattered with no head count.
There can be no treaty of peace with them.
Cherries, mangoes, apples and oranges
Have become names in the tattered dictionary.
A rare taste lingers at the end of my tongue
And my earth persists to remain orange.
