Black (Poem)

[maxmaxmaxmax]

If I get married, I will get married in a black dress

And I will wear it just as seductively as did Anna Arkadyevna,

Though even her charms cannot prevent my tall, dark partner

From accompanying me into the black night of our future bliss.

 

Because black is the colour of outer space,

An infinity of possibility in which darkness outshines light,

The black I mention is unclear, complex and bewitching,

Inviting and enticing, asking answers, giving questions.

 

I want the black silk of coffee without the milk,

The bitter, purer chocolate intensity, black

That I'll go back to in an Amy Winehouse track,

Black paint that saw a red door and imagined something better.

 

I mean the black of Mandela's long walk

To freedom. 'Free at last!' were the black cries of former slaves.

Black that knows its own history, like Levi and his roots.

As for sauces, I want thick, smoky black, barbecue charcoal.

 

I am talking about a shade darker than Obama,

Kind rays on skin, precious vitamins, dark brown sugar,

Gold coast abundance, and hot, ancient spice.

Black is the colour of the sun's and love's effects.

 

I will drive away in a black Mercedes slickly,

Conspicuously, with blacked-out windows for my privacy.

This is the black of a technological time and signed dotted lines

Of phone, PC, TV, wires, cables, satellites: our iron-age modernity.

 

I'm looking for the black of a grand piano, and a third of its keys

To make jazz like Herbie Hancock and seize the day's variety,

In the world of Louis Armstrong, and Maya Angelou's words

Of Wonder like Stevie, Cole like the Kings Nat and the havers of dreams.

 

Black is the colour of Marilyn Manson's self-respect,

Of gothic horror, uncertainty and Baldrick's cunning plan.

It is the environment of the womb, in our minds, everywhere life lives,

And at the bottom of the oceans where it probably began.

 

Saying 'I want black' is like saying 'I want what I want'.

It is the colour of ideas on a screen and their ink on a page.

It sees and is seen, it makes every thing living.

It may not be the colour of life, but it's the one that makes us alive.

 

That's why I want a black wedding and a black honeymoon,

I want black in my life and I want black when I die,

In it I want to cover my coffin, and everything I leave behind.

Black may not be the colour of life, but it's the one that makes us alive.

 

[◊ crazyguy123 ◊]

Very interesting poem. I love it.

 

By the way, if your profile pic is you, I'd be curious to know what you look like in a black dress (not for sexual reasons; I just have a strange sense of humor).

[maxmaxmaxmax]

Haha! Thanks. 

[xtify]

Great poem!  I really enjoyed reading it.

[maxmaxmaxmax]

Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.

[Guest afireinside]

Solid poem and a good twist of cynical humour. Like the Baldrick's cunning plan reference.

[maxmaxmaxmax]

Gotta love Baldrick! Thanks.