The Gray

Solemn gray colors and solemn gray gold,
Made up the paint on this new house of old.
Colors the same as the cold, hard ground,
Made up the paint of this whole damned town.

Inside sits our protagonist, a gray husk of man,
Who sits and abides by ev-ery plan.
Takes care not to act, or think on his own,
Or the government will come and take up his home.

He knows no Laughter, no Joy and no Pride,
But also no Anger, no Grief for those died.
This is true happiness, or so he is told,
By the government, to keep him from feeling the Bold.

He loved where he lived, destined here to grow old,
The houses were beautiful, or so he was told.
Not a brick out of line,
Not a stray trail of grime,
Made for equality, equality and no crime.

Thus is the world of our Man here today,
Not a single soul different,
Not a single soul gay.

But this man was destined for something far greater,
To rise up Today, for the good of the Later.
The start of his journey lasted only a grain,
A feeling never felt: the feeling of pain.

The cause of the accident completely escaped him,
The result was discomfort; it looked very grim.
But then from the sliver agape on his finger,
Came something unknown, and there it did linger.

Behold! A new kind of Gray had been borne;
It was brighter, more vibrant, where his skin was torn.
For the first time more active were the cones on his eyes,
As the brain tried to comprehend this new kind of dye.

The name of this Gray, his books never shed,
But a word came to him, and that word was Red.
Perhaps a memory, a thought, of a world long forgotten,
Spewed forth this idea, society let go rotten.

Hard on the table, he did press his finger,
Producing a smudge, prettier than the grays of any picture.
Astounded, around his place he did look,
But received no audience, not even a look.

Alone, Alone, was the world he was given,
No One to be found, lest his house be made liven.
No! No! This was not right!
He lived under shackles, he lived in a blight!

For the rest of his peers, maybe this life was fine,
No Red needed there, not a step out of line.
But for him no satisfaction, he needed something more,
It was then he made his decision: to make decisions galore.

Outside! He knew it must hold the key,
To break through his shackles, to let him be free.
The one place he was warned never to go,
Was the one place his desires all seemed to flow.

A foot to the wall, with all of his might,
Finally led to the in-pour, the bringing of light.
Away in the distance an alarm did sound,
But he didn't care, he broke free, and looked around.

A symphony of Colors his eyes did perceive,
The feeling of Happiness, from it was received.
Blues, and Greens, and Pinks he did now know,
The exuberance inside him, it continued to grow.

But inside, he knew it would end on a whim,
For those alarms in the distance, they sounded for him.
It wasn't too long, and he felt no fear,
But the government's trucks had finally come near.

A swift bullet through his brain was all that it took,
Our Man fell down, and the tables, they shook.
Lying down on the ground, our man did finally see,
The great pool of Red, from which came his Victory.

He didn't care, his life was complete,
For here he did something more, than work, sleep, and eat.
Here he felt something, the other men would not feel,
More than the guns on their shoulders, it was more real than real.

He won! He won! Only through his own rapture,
The brilliance of Life did he finally capture.
He felt more than most, and his feelings were fed,
By the Red: his Beginning, and finally his End.

Reviews

[Denise]

Just stopping by to show my appreciation as the THIRD PLACE winner in my contest.

Not often do I come across governmental poetry that has a deep seeded emotional tie. This one I believe would touch anybody's heart that believes in freedom without the corruption of government. I enjoyed how you weaved this into a storyline without sacrificing the poetic flow. Nice job! Thanks for sharing.

[Elly]

I absolutely love this poem, Niko. It's a lovely narration of the man's life.

[.]

He didn't care, his life was complete,
For here he did something more, than work, sleep, and eat.

. this entire poem is a masterpiece ... exceptional poetic narration ... and very poignant ... governments the world over seem to empower but they take more than they give ... anyway, the above lines were particularly striking ...

[Dark Empress]

Very interesting, keep up the great work