He invented a paint gun. Fallen Angel 15

After many moons had passed
many suns burnt his earlobes
ponderous prancing pierced his boredom.

He climbed the tallest structure
paint gun in hand
waiting
impatiently

His first shot hit the sky square in the jaw
and changed blue to grey
this raised a smile

But it didn't sufficiently confuse
disruption and angst yet to be reared

So he fired at man
all of them
He fired yellow
he fired black
he fired brown
he fired pink
he fired beige
he fired orange
he fired white
man scattered, scurried and scampered
heading for the hills
the deserts
the plains
strangely grouping by colour.

Now he knew he had started something,
and was pleased with his work
so many men, so many different colours

Let the intolerance begin
because now you are truly different.

***

I have decided to repost these as individual poems, they are taken from my poetry book I published on Amazon.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fallen-Angel-Mr-Darren-Connor/dp/1492989223

Some of the older members have already read these and I thank them
Just a quick fix to get my number of poems up. I was probably a bit quick publishing, some of these need more work.