Black is the night
the mystic color
of hidden things,
dark moments of the falling
ungraced and unrepented,
the astral flowers of poison dust.

flowing skirts of the damned,
sadness for all lost things,
the beginning where hatred is born,
dark intention of the mind,
and the cry of bitterness.

treacherous color
of the Vaticans,
intentions that overcast their
circles through the gloomy
night of ritual sacrilege.

Charcoal reflection
from hell ashes,
beautify the sins of our desire,
formal to the taste of cruelty,
and trying to be good from the dark
ways of it's texture.

friend of the moon,
the only Ally's from haunting hours,
master to the cunning art
and leftover in the dish of time.

manifestwhat lies within,
the buried things nature
unable to see,
a core of hidden evidence,
call of the rising,
long before the moon gave birth to the light.

The color that dripped
from the veins of the dead,
when the texture of their
decayed skin torn on sharp objects,
this dreaded color witness their real self.

The ribbon's on death note,
the dying rose which fumes
the twilight,
and scattered its wish upon
the sleeping Madonna of the grave.

The only shade to paint abadon's fortress,
to witness the kingship
from cruel hands,
and the rotten destiny
created from things buried in the
slimy swamp of the soul.

Fadrian Bartley
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 10/17/2019 The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.