Revolutions are not ‘Red’ by Hartley Morgan

Revolutions are not ‘Red’,
i know that from where i stand,
one of those on the wrong side,
in a soldier’s uniform watching
the springs run with blood,
the flags reflecting their mothers’ woes,
all faces hell sun burnt,
eyes blood shot with forget me not feelings,
But Revolutions are not ‘Red’,
these Revolutions are not of minds,
they are of anger, anger is not ‘Red’,
These revolutions are ‘White’.
draining sweet redness from cheeks,
projecting pale deaths so piercingly that the
moon is sure soon to hang his head in shame,
grinding bodies in man’s machines,
pumping ashes as snow in the summer,
When they say Revolutions are ‘Red’,
they are talking about the little girl’s Red coat
found in a pile of Whiteness,
But Revolutions are not ‘Red’,
there is no heat in death,
no readiness for an over throw,
just opened sewers to collect all the ‘Red’