Friday, May 23, 2008

Orange is Methadone


Orange a fiery ball of sun against the purple mash of a threatening sky
Orange the inside of flames consuming wood and flesh and lives
Orange the color of a Corvette sports car that my girlfriend crashed
Orange the smell of rotten fruit and dead bodies we hoped might come back
Rhymes are for kids who compare kisses with an angel's breath
Orange is the fire that warm blue leathered cold hands or mix ashes with death

Orange is gold glinting in the sun, it’s weight is more than a night of fun
Orange is the Hollywood flash from a gun – a gun for play, doesn’t kill no one
Orange is the defoliant coquettishly called “Agent Orange”
Killed leaf and tree and human being, from a sky where death should never be born


Orange is a savior – wafer thin, 40 Milligrams, so I’m not sick no more
Orange is ten dollars if you know where to score
A methadone tablet, might keep me off the street
Orange is a junkie’s sweet, Christmas treat
Orange tablet, then all the urges are slight
Won’t go out on a tare tonight
Won’t maybe lie and won’t maybe steal
Orange is the color that keeps a dope fiend from being fiend real.

The tablet is harmony on a street where harmony is absurd
It’s got me calmed down – just this paper and these rhyming words.
Oh I’m not a poet, at least maybe not yet
But tonight I ain’t dangerous, without my spike, I’m toying with this pen.


Brian Murphy

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