Purple Flags

I admire those purple flags.
The ones that wave at fellow flags,
Ones where pride is shown in all colours.
But oh lord, those purple flags!
The ones that pucker power and voices
Of the population.

For the flags that witness those
Being torn, losing their sound and structural stitching,
To be thrown at the feet of the flags,
They quake and tremble throughout their bodies
Out of disgust and disappointment.
They be the ones that flicker out from their arsenal
Small speckles of sounds
That roar in unity in which strike upon
The ignorant and the angry.

But oh, those purple flags!
The ones that either through misprint,
Or of their own choosing,
Stand toweringly tall
In a variety of shades of purple.
They slide and slice through
The still and stagnant air
With their vocals and with their actions.
But, why so many supposed shades of purple?

The ones that frown or even smack each other
As they billow in competition
Whether tis’ nobler for them to suffer
In mind or not.
How I marvel at each flags’ initial stand,
Yet, surely they voice out equal sound
And move in the same motions for attention?

Some flags stand in small armies,
Arrogantly blocking out other types of purple.
Some so weak and feeble they fall behind,
Or have no pole to stand on in the first place.
Some fall forward, either to cheat to the finishing line
Or to flatten out the opportunity for man
To take them down, or not,
As paranoia can settle through the winds
And into the folds of some flags.

Some proudly stand alone,
Some are walked by when
Some flags remain not planted;
Those dot-to-dot with no discernible pattern,
Or message, or image to provoke
Their out-spoken voices from
Some flags flying through the loudest
And at times, the stormiest of winds.

Some flags just don’t know
As I plant one, sun bleached and stained;
A messy conglomeration of shades of purple
A flag that doesn’t know where to plant itself.
How can they be so of the same
And yet so dissimilar?
Even when they are born through
One factory of supposed equal thought.

But oh lord, those purple flags so marvellous,
So revolutionary, so confusing.
When they march against
Not only opposing units,
Contrived with backward forces
That time would rather forget
It’s out-dated voices.

But also march against each other,
The ones that flap about,
Creating exceeding amounts of breath
And wasted energy when shouted
At one another without focused result.
A labyrinth of thought,
Trying to map previous ideals
Of what shade of purple the flags should be
And create a universal idea
That should be relevant to every single flag
Planted by every single person,
But this doesn’t seem to be the case, yet.

What was at first, a single colour of purple,
Letting other colours burst through
From the dense darkness
Into the spectrum of light, of right.
It is now an awesome tapestry
Of our rights to be human,
Of our Human Rights,
Slowly unravelling and tangling into
Thin and clumpy threads of purple.

But oh lord, those purple flags,
The ones that were an army,
The ones that were resolving
A backward war of man,
And woman.
How did we get here?
What does it take?
To get – there?