My Storm

You are my storm,
Those towering storms
That blows in this cup.
You are my unrest,
A wild horse,
That I intend to tame,
And pacify,
And make peace with,
And make love with.
And make history with.
You are my demon.
My poisoned chalice,
To purify and make right.
Where hatred flowed in past,
Love should flow today.
You are my tempest.
You are my storm,
To contain..

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013


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

The Spirit

This spirit soars.

It soars beyond the skies.

It exists in the universe,

Holding the life force together,

Nurturing peace and prosperity.

It is our spirit.

It flows and touches the mountains, the plains and  the oceans.

It moves the souls and kisses warm kisses to glad hearts.

And the love is so deep and so wide, that it can never be depleted.

The spirit silently watches,

Quietly filling up the firmament,

With messages of hope,

Gently feeding a beatific existence.

It has healed us.

It has sealed us in an eternity of fortitude.

In yore,

The spirit existed.

And now it must flow again.

Amongst the humanity,

To experience a rebirth and a reassurance.

In candour, I gaze at the spirit, seeing with a heart’s eyes, things that the naked eye can never see.

Memories can never be effaced,

But will dwell more in this spirit.

An affectional demise, of easy vexations shall pass.

And bliss shall claim us.

The spirit clears a mental mire,

Penitent, for not knowing you earlier.

In reticence, we acknowledge, the fact of dear life.

The spirit is ours,

To hold us closer,

And infuse fused truth.

My spirit….

Our spirit…

© Ayoub Mzee 2012



That Place.

Take me.
Take me to that place.
That special place.
Take me again.
To that beautiful place.
The place that sunshine never fades nor wanes.
A place where memories lingers.
A place where love rests on petals of eternity.
A place where hearts thrives in perpetual bliss.
A place where dreams dwells.
A place where tranquility prevails.
Take me to this place.
I want to go to this place again.
I want to dwell on this place again.
It is a special place.
It is a sweet place.
I have rested in this place.
I have honed wisdom in this place.
Let that moment be me.
Let that moment be us.
I want to go this place.
Let us walk and work together,
Till we reach that place.
Our place.
Please let us go before dark darkness finds us.

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee


You maybe welcomed into this heart,
But to own it you’ll never.
You may experience the warm embrace,
But to own this spirit is next to impossible.
I’m a free spirit, doing and going whatever and wherever I wish.
My thoughts are free. I judge not. I just flow.

If you leave the ownership of this spirit onto me to own,
Then you’ll know of an unique being, A being who respects all and lets it be. I’ll never trespass nor transgress your rights.

I watch with a doleful eye,
All those efforts put in by an individual, Trying to own me.
Why cage me in?
Let me fly into the dark night , like lucky lark and sing this beautiful song.
The metaphors are crying to be messaged by my quill,
How then will I be able to, if you insist hanging on to my neck?

In solitude, I find my thoughts and sing my personal soliloquy.
A crowd is sometimes tiresome and all I need is to quench
my soul with this quest in golden silence. Alone, I expire the anguish and inhale happiness,
But otherwise, I’ve known peace piece by piece. I won’t mortgage my person, I’ll keep it intact.
Therefore, you can’t own me…

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee