Black Chroma

What ails you black hue?

For wherever a mortal sets foot forth,

You never cease to blight her path with a devastating precision.

You are an apparition, a mist in a gist of a single moment.

You’re an enigma who brutally refuses a description,

And your appellation is not easy to comprehend.

You are the dark angel,

Shimmering and simmering in your laconic chromatic black.

 

Colour black you are some mystery in which you cloak yourself in,

And peeling the layers of lies off you is a Herculean task.

You’re a silhouette of beings in darkness,

And whom you effortlessly sip life from mercilessly.

Yet in your mystery, you’re regal, and we bow in awe.

You inspire fear and intrigue.

Your wearer is a marked man. Your host is a marked woman.

For the black art and occult consult you.

You’re Gothic, chasing the shadows of life masked in a death promise.

 

You sing a dire dirge in a funeral,

And mourners must mourn in black.

Subdued in dark somber tones and moods,

The living are stifled of their right to leave or live.

The things you hide in your darkness are momentous.

In your unwarranted ornate fiesta of doom, we are but helpless jetsams

Of your unkind gesture in mocking dear life.

You beckon with a languid hand,

A flight to oblivion..

 

In the stillness of the night, you and the willing darkness

Engage in an obscene dance of intimate lovers,

Whose heart’s contents and dark desires they are familiar with.

In the night, they play lucid games of deceit and the owl is the umpire in this empire.

In the darkness, witches, thieves, murderers, villains and vampires find refuge,

She embraces them in an earnest hug of sure death.

The moon is a shy nymph, undecided lass bearing the gift of dark light

Who lie, conquered by the long shadows of tempests.

Oh Black hue, your symbolism is rich.

What hails you black hue?

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

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The Little Black Dress

Peeking, teasing, generous.
So little, so coy, so brave.
The little black dress,
Says so much in so many little ways.
The dress is so intimate with it’s wearer,
hugging and exposing the appropriate places.
How envious of this little dress…
to be so close to this soft and willing dermis!
The little black dress,
dresses and teases the mind with a potent finality.
Every male is a willing prisoner,
while his imaginations run amok,
His hidden desires inflames an urgent longing,
while the proud owner of the little black dress,
Smiles knowingly,
letting the damned little thing ride higher and higher….
The power of a little black dress.

© 2012 Ayoub Mzee