First of all, the title: the arrangement or treatment of light and dark parts in a pictoral work of art. Secondly, the influence: Debussy reference, anyone? Cookie points to anyone who catches it!


Life is sadistic that way:
it takes
in human suffering.

So the chorus screamed
its iceberg of pain -
arpeggios of orange,
a dark blue tenor.
Until finally,
everything is coated
in a veneer of black.

And the piano
with all its haunting hammerstrokes,
is always interrupted
by the man
shining so brightly
in the secluded spotlight
on his chipped diamond pedestal.

None allowed,
all uninvited,
we're riveted,
God is possessed,
and the orchestra wages its jihad.

Life is compassionate that way:
it expresses its
in unexpected deaths.

The colorless dawn
wheeled its course
in uncharted territory,
until the lilacs burst
in shrapnel of petals
out of boredom.

The flaxen-haired girl
mourned behind the scenes,
against a rubber tree
meant to shield
the offending moon
that yearned to conquer,
invite itself to supper in heaven.

Perhaps one day we'll understand
the urgency,
the pace of being alive,
until then -
we whirl, uninhibited.

Life is vague that way:
it manifests itself in
cocked and ready.

It's a bit nebulous, I agree. I think it's because I wrote it so early in the day. (w00t! I refrained from begging from reviews! - not that they're not appreciated, of course...)