Blue is more than the ocean
or the endless sky
blue is a song
and a state of mind
From the hostile navy
to the peaceful lavender
or from the electric and sexy curacao
to your eyes, turquoise
“- but shut up, baby blue
cause I’m not done yet”
Blue is what is not green
while part yellow
blue is the tear
running down your cheeks
cloud and tornado
hurricane and storm
Not pink, nor red
but the color in which love grieves
like Etta
so Chicago, so New York
and while some I may offend
blue is much more American
than French
like the Pacific
or the crystal clear mirror
where I can see that we hurt
in the same extent that we love
and in the end, it’s all just blue
(Dedicated to Maria Arias Gomez, in memoriam)
Purple is power
held by shamans and priests
esoteric mysticism
in the colors of the crepuscule
But in the prism of my vision
purple is more than mystic
or colorful dusk before my eyes
purple is lust
On the red carpet of private cocktails
it walks in high heels of eponymous sophistication
among the cloudy atmosphere of cigarettes and cigars
with its underrated glamour
and its tarnished fame
Sax and lace
poison corset
this candlelight vigil
the morning awaits
I can never say no
nor resist its charms;
falling instead into a drunken sleep
on Artemisia Absinthium’s thighs
In the crepuscule’s dew
amongst paper thin nylons
whispers and skin
purple, power and lust
blur the kaleidoscope
so kiss me deadly, darling
for we live to die in sin
