Sitting before you is not a man, but merely a cracked shell,
A shell of the lightest pastels to the darkest hues,
Housing burning reds, spirited greens and muted blues,
with no motive, reason, or rational behind his ways,
Except to desaturate worlds and leave completely unphased, do not be amazed, for Colour Bandits have no morals these days.
They’ll extract until colour no longer crosses against their path, laughing sweetly as they make luminosity feel their calm, evasive wrath. Head to toe in matte, for which is almost completely unmatched.
Apart from a spectrum, so brilliantly and viciously dispatched.
A bandit’s worst nightmare in a void would be to dye,
As all the colours come rushing and bleed deep, proceeding to stain their lives, with strokes of beryl, turquoise tints and compliments of shades of plum,
A mixture of something new, unknown to man what exactly they’ll become,
Some believe they leave behind their soul, black and white, like a mortal wound, a gaping hole,
Others say they become something royal, a supreme jade, a strengthened cobalt,
I can’t fathom a Bandit becoming something so noble.
Blooming bursts of brightened tones make the bandits blush, crushed colours stricken ill, and an ill defence it is against mountains and moss, a golden gloss, at a complete loss, gasping for air, as he struggles, ensnared by colour.
He clenches and tightens but to no avail,
suffocating to an unimaginable scale,
his demise is a veil of crimson,
An impenetrable prison of iridescence,
swallowing the mere presence of a Bandit of value.
The chestnut makes him considerably more heavy,
weighing him down, as the cerulean splashes engulf him, causing him to drown.
The scarlets burn endlessly, whilst tightly he’s held by mint green, squeezing tighter and tighter.
It’s a perilous sight your eyes would never let you believe, and if they did your body would stiffen up straight and never let you leave.
Standing before you is not a man, but an occupied shell, defeated, his mind in a daze his body in a coma, he rests for just a moment drifting slowly in the chroma, and falls to his already weakened knees and contemplates the sweet relief of becoming something more.
More or less.
Pj Liguori is an English YouTuber, photographer, entertainer, artist, and musician. He started making videos on YouTube in 2007, and his subscriber count now stands at around 400,000. He makes short films, and has won many awards for them. He wows his audience with his dead on impressions, clever sketches, animations, and general humor. He had released an album and described the genre as ‘anti-folk’. It gives off a careless vibe that makes the listener happy.
Narrative: in the form of or concerned with narration.
The poem “Colour Bandits” is a story, or rather, a narration, about creatures that steal the color from worlds and then become overwhelmed by it. This story tells of the motives, trials, and tribulations of these “bandits” and resembles the format of a spoken word.
This is such a finite poem. When you pay attention to the rhythm and the hidden rhymes, it’s honestly shocking. It’s fantastic. The poem focuses on the trials and tribulations of a “colour bandit.” These “bandits” seem to go to worlds full of color and absorb it all. The end of the poem gives you the idea that they’ve absorbed too much this time, and have died at its hands. They go to worlds simply to steal their color, leaving them bland and cracked. They eventually absorb too much of this color, and “suffocate to an unimaginable scale.” The problem is that they love this color and the pain it brings. They will go in a constant circle just to relive it. When they suffocate, they contemplate “becoming something more. More or less.” These lines reveal that, perhaps, the bandits acknowledge and understand the pain that they bring upon themselves, but are so addicted to it that they cannot bring themselves to stop. Or, maybe, they cannot drag themselves out of their predicament, and wish for an existence that isn’t constantly clouded in pain and suffering.
This action can be a metaphor for many things, and the line “stain their lives” is very important to that revelation. These bandits go to worlds bursting with color-literally- and absorb it all. They do it whether or not it is beneficial to the worlds, and then they leave. By being greedy in this way and never taking heed for being humble, they end these worlds. In today’s day and age of corruption, we can think of some figures in power as “colour bandits.” They steal from the poor, pay the rich, feed the plentiful, starve the struggling, all as a natural part of their job. It could be that this ideation has been so transcribed in the habits of their lives that they are unable to see an alternative means of action. Eventually, they might contemplate an alternative. An existence that isn’t full of plentiful “color.” Once they adapt that, the world could very much be a better place.
This poem tells the story of a “colour bandit” becoming so obsessed with an idea, that the repercussions of said idea are ignored, causing their end.
This is a still from the visual itself, therefore, it encapsulates the entirety of the video. These “colour bandits” are malevolent, wise, creatures. They enter worlds and steal the colour from them, rendering them left with nothing. This still shows the internal angst of the bandit, who releases his anger through screaming in pain. In the lines that say
“He clenches and tightens but to no avail,
suffocating to an unimaginable scale…”
do we really see the pain emitted from these bandits. They suffocate and crack at the hands at that which at one point brought them the most joy and release. The visual shows the fall of the bandit, and gives us a whole new perspective on him. He is in immense pain at something which he loves. It would be a terrible fate.