I've probably complicated this poem all up with this version. But I wanted to try it. The reason I'm woring on this one so much is that I'm trying to write a poem for The New Yorker. You know- something sophisticated and current?
Anyway, fire away- if you think The first version of "The New Red" was the best I wont mind.

Red in Three New Colors

The New Red (of Politics)

Orange is the new red of politics
red without the blood
lips unstained
the fresh new feel of alarm
like candy gum drops
accenting everything.

It’s pillowy and tender
on a republican’s tie
friendly and wholesome
on the past and future first lady
standing at the podium
smiling blithely.

The old red has been washed clean
it’s too depressing
it makes us think of red cheeks
embarrassing stains on sheets
broken hearts,
the people we’ll never again see
and war.

The New Red (of Lies)

Blue is new red of lies
on a president’s tie
like a mirror of the sky
sending a quiet signal;
I’m harmless
don’t look at what I do.

Camellia-like it snaked
from our father’s ideals-
liberty and opportunity
born on blue collars
once worn by rainbow coalitions-
now hijacked.

As in the fabled King’s court
blue is everywhere
and nowhere,
we’re drowning
in a bone-dry lake,
and the world we knew
isn’t there.

The New Red of War

White is the new red of war
glaring like the sun
blinding our view
of the truth
sheared off at the roots
where the twins once stood.

On white the fates
are written
delivered across the miles
by spies in suits and shirts
in canned conversation
with speeches
and smiles.

And God is trembling
His robes red with fire
while we decide
who is right
who is worthy, who will live
and who will die.

Epilogue: There Is No Red

Justice will triumph
over vengeance.
Under the blindfold
all this new red-
orange, blue, and white
will someday fade
to black.

That's the stuff!

This works your original idea into a masterpiece.

I think this is even stronger than your first attempt, now.

Good use of images, as always.

The different colours provide a real progression. A story is now told, with a fitting epilogue.

Well done, you!

a strong piece to be sure, but somehow i think i'll always like the first piece best. i liked the amiguity...the abstract element of the original. i worry that to much explanation damages that.

i liked it better when the blue was in the president's eyes, not on his tie. i think that fits into the meaning of the stanza better--his eyes being both mirror and window into his lies. plus you already had the orange on the republicans' ties earlier, and i don't think the repetition strengthens anything here.

Oh yeah, and that also gives a double meaning to "don't LOOK at what I do".

It is so great to hear both of your comments on this piece! It really helps me to see things with some perspective.

Argy I'm so glad you liked the new montage. (Hey! That word may be good for the new title.) I wasn't sure if I was just saying more without saying much.

Zoomy You may be right about that first version. It works all by itself. It's like a gurilla attack- gets in and gets out. If I submit it to The New Yorker I'll suggest using only those. I also will go back to "eyes" in that line. I agree with everything you said about it.

I feel bad that I didn't mention the green in this version. I think Sara was right about that one. It needs to be said. (Since it's bothering me, I think I'll have to try to add it!)

It's hard to read different versions of an idea and try to see it fresh. Thank you very much for your effort.

Very interesting like that, Nanzar. I think I enjoyed the ambiguity of the first poem, like zoom... but I can see this being interesting as a series of poems where the audience IS supposed to know what the poems are about. Maybe in the New Yorker, it'd be a good setting for that type of thing. But as a standaway poem, I enjoyed the original version best.

Oh, and I'm with everyone else on the blue eyes thing, the whole windows thing. Definitely keep the blue eyes.

Interesting read nonetheless!

~Gabber