Color Theory

color-warBlue blew on his brand new brass bassoon while Red read of the violent violets. 
The two sat akimbo in their studio flat, fat as cats fed on babies in limbo.
It was Blue who let toot a noisy c-note thus breaking Red’s quiet silence. 
Red said that should such crude tunes be so rudely reproduced she might be reduced to a mighty chartreuse.
In a half-cocked half-cough Blue scoffed enough at Red’s hollow mocks and thought he must call this haughty bluff. 
So Blue let blast two fast paced blusters, causing as amorous a clamor as the old master could muster or stammer. 
Then Red begged that that droll fellow take his sloppy solo and go outdoors so as though not to trouble so sensitive a soul as she.
But Blue just pushed another loud crowd of sour sounds that pound by pound ground the now shattering smattering of that small sum of some silence that Red had had that morning of mournings. 
This is why Red took her thick book like a crooked right hook and struck the shmuck so quick his head shook.  Blue then threw a total low blow and struck Red on her big toe. 
It wasn’t a minute past noon and such a skirmish ensued that everyone who knew the two would wonder who had first brandished the bludgeoning tool that led straight away to the awful fray. 
When the spit and muss and fuss and cuss not to mention dust had finally shushed there was Red who bled from the bassoon that protruded from a fatal wound.  And Blue, who dead, strangled by his own leg with nothing to show but some violet violence.

This entry was published on April 16, 2009 at 2:43 am. It’s filed under Art/Comics, Comic, Graphic Poem, Poem, Short Short and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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