Who Shall I Tell?



 Who can I tell that I'm an addict?
 Addicted to self-annihilating acts,
 That I'm torn from within, ever bleeding,
 And darkness overshadows me that no light flickers at the close of the tunnel.
 This burden is heavy for me to continually bear,
 But who will care to listen to me?

 Who will I tell that I'm an addict?
 To acts, abominable and insulting to society,
 Which defile all traditional and moral establishments,
 Which stain the culture of our fathers and mothers,
 A treason to our African values, our very ways of life.
 But who will render their unjudgmental ears to my woe?

 Who shall I tell that I'm an addict?
 When certainly society will think me cursed of the gods!
 When the Christendom will only see thousands of foul spirits in me,
 When my tradition loving father, would rather slay me than accept me,
 When even the woman who bore me, will want nothing to do with the shame of her womb.

 Who will hear me, when my own would have nothing to do with an addict?
Gerald Sikazwe

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Gem Of Black Soil

Image
Hear her speak, Its flames of wild fire burning sweet sensations down your ears, Imbued in wisdom and traditions of our ancestors, Clothed in enchantment of the blue sky.  Of her bewitching build none competes, Not the texture of the sun’s rays or that of petals of roses, Fairly not even the phenomenal tombs of pharaohs with all their might, It is just uniquely sophisticated. Talk of her character, Beautiful and heavenly, As the display of shiny pearls which populate the skies at night, As the glow on one’s face ignited by genuine happiness. She is a splendid gem, A woman of Africa, Of beauty kneaded from black earth A woman to adore!. Gerry Sikazwe Model: Angelina Shamz Picture Credit: Lobe Musonda
Read more

You Should Have Listened

Winds spoke, Ears deaf, heed not, Winds sung, Stony hearts, leaped not, Winds cried, Hateful souls, cared not, Lightening with anger now strikes, It flashes with wrath of wild fire, Sun burns today ferociously, It scorches as hunger bites a child`s belly, You should have listened that time, That time when the messenger  was love. Gerry Sikazwe
Read more

Shadows (POEM)

Image
Are they scorched souls of men, Are they the evil part of every breathing man, Shadows, what are they? Are they demons loosed from hell beneath to haunt us, Are they angels in dark skins to walk with us, Shadows, what are you? Are they guides, sent to us, from our fallen ancestors, Are they spirits of the dead, or the unborn looking for bodies to posses, Shadows, what are they? Shadows, Either small or huge, Teach us always in light to walk, And show us that selflessness is a lane possible to walk in. They are nothing than truest friends, Shadows, our own.
Read more