Who’s afraid of red, yellow and blue?

The disemboweled obelisc of the Stedelijk,

50 feet of canvas disturbed by

distinctly human hatred.

Geometrical truths viewed through

a primal fear of constructed perspectives.

Nuances automated by

the many deaths of a painting.

Did organized movements

cull the paint on the rolling fields of canvas,

or inscribe slogans on signs?

The museum of degenerate art awaits.

As a brilliant signal red flashes in the distance,

as the pendulum swings back again,

I remind you

They are never just talking about art.

Who’s afraid of red, yellow and blue?

The brighter the light that shines,

The darker the shadow that is cast.

All along it was you.