Farces

out in a blue monday,
gathered in a hall yellow
with chairs burgundy,
sat amongst the crowd of nameless faces
looking at a flamboyantly dressed person,
bright as a neon sign she was.

after the wordless babble of monotonous ritual weekly,
interjected between two announcements,
speech commenced.
script boring,
tone of voice that made all the difference.
SO! the sarcasm dripped,
flooding the floor with her last stand,
Support she got from the masses.
swept beneath a 122 ear by 16 ear by 18 ear carpet in the hareem
she was.
thick the carpet was indeed.

"go with our blessings", the royal plural said,
to another environment,
that she may prosper.
will she, won't she?
was it better after all?
attention seemingly diverted,
towards the central core of it all,
of why?
not of opportunity this was,
but the closure of a door,
a door embossed with the three colours.

O Giovanni, beckon no more
chaos she needs not.
ASSISItance she requires.
from one chaos to another,
'tis cruel.
amnesia will soon set in,
pursuit of happiness,
Hope, she finds.
[ ]fully..