It's not the color chart; it's the hierarchy.
Hoarders of permission slips for resources
thereby decide what gets done,
which brick gets laid, or even fired,
who lives well-rewarded,
who scrapes til they no longer get by.
It's not our dna that compels stupidity.
Perhaps it's a kind of manic compulsion,
St. Vitus line-dancing to a poisoned
What to do?
Meme-web reconstruction in increments
paradigm warping mindwaves
realigning the pulsing macrosphere/microsphere
benign gibberish cyphoning through?
Take back your time.
Take back your right to self-valuation.
Take back your place
outside of the lines.
If our needs, self-fulfilling desires, greater
ecstatic glory and grace
are to be based
on solid infrastructure,
on fruitful interplay,
on free and freeing expression,
let us take hands in
an undulating, beatific dance
moving in multi-rhythmed
Let us be and do and feel
that which gives us permission
to be whole.