yellow said i am a canary

yellow said i am a canary            
yellow  said i am a  banana            
the canary said i am not a banana            
the banana dreamed of wings while                
           
the bud of pink and orange          
grew older with the seasons            
and said i want to kiss that yellow banana    
           
the banana said wait till i'm ripe baby            
green said the banana's my man, bitch            
and i'll bruise your peach ass purple            
if you touch his stem with your pink slut            
peach pondered the pros        
and cons of yellow and purple        
       
           
out of the blue    
black shrieked    
canary is dead        
           
who put her in the dark mind      
           
she is not yellow anymore         
but ashen  like me            
           
green laid envious punches by her side    
peach felt bruised without a touch    
all the people on the yellow submarine    
crushed in the depths of age      
dead with spots like rotten bananas    
        
and poor poor canary    
        
red said i'll bring a rose to lay on the grave        
blue too blue to speak, hid behind        
the heaving sigh of grey that blanketed the day        
        
white fell mournfully from the empyrean bed        
like crystal tears to lay a hand on poor black        
wrapped now like a coffin round the withered bird        
        
lavender rose and spoke of the    
eternal fade and the pot of golden    
moments that drip from the arching rainbow of time    
in novel shades from the dreams of the dead        
        
dearly beloved she said we are gathered here today        
and every day, married in pigments of joy and pain        
        
canary will be born again    
 
in the burgeoning face of spring        
in the morning star as we turn from mourning        
in the diamond spark on the crest of the shimmering waves    
 
you will find canary