Artefacts of perception

Ah, I see that lilac’s darker than mauve

n brown’s nowhere near maroon.

N that the deep purple bats flyin against the moon

in the menacing violet sky with clouds viridian

- or is that the colour leached form the figs

that are midnight green going deep byzantium? -

are the rich smooth colour of ripe jamuns

or those sweet pitted californian prunes

or maybe a nice shiny turgid brinjal.

But do u see this? do u understand?

that there’s no such thing as colour

its only an artefact of perception;

for the world isn’t real,

it’s just gud at deception.

as i trudged on alone

the road was a scab

hardened black

with nasty bruises of lilac

beneath the jacaranda trees

n bloody red scars

where the gulmohar shed

its tattered flowers

gloomily in the breeze.