Scribbles

                                                          br.pinterest.com/explore/turbantes-africanos-946853069773/ The thought of losing you to another, The thought of giving you up to the next in line, That I cannot stand, That blow I cannot survive, So I want you badly. You and what you make me feel, Your beauty and that accompanying wit, Is the only sense this world makes, Is the only truth there is of what “alive” really is, So I want you badly. I need you like breath, you are my breath, I need you like trees do roots; you are my footing, Nothing fills my life with color like you do, Nothing paints my life this bright as you, So I want you badly. You and what you make me feel, Your beauty and that accompanying wit, Is the only sense this world makes, Is the only truth there is of wha...

 Beauty untainted, so divinely laid,  Pleasing to the eyes; most fortunate to have a gaze,  Unique, beyond all what lead lines ever drew or feather scribbles ever said,  Beauty untainted, so divinely laid,  Soaked in sticky hypnotizing charms, hearts to always raid,  Sophisticatedly quizzical, as if glopping through a darkened maze,  Beauty untainted, so divinely laid,  Pleasing to the eyes; most fortunate to have a gaze.  Gerry Sikazwe  Model: Angelina Shamz  Picture By: Xander (Vantage Point)

Winds may manage to erase our prints off the belly of the earth, Smiles we lit on faces of people may go off, Life may even pretend to have not birthed us, Dreams we molded to create better futures may be treated as trash, Then, when death has had devoured our lives. But now is the time, Now is the time to inscribe our names, Deep in the skin of the sky, Tattooing them so thickly that stars should envy, So that even when we pass, Those alive then may know that we too were here. Time and seasons will soon forget us, Even flowers in our gardens without us will go on, Friends and acquaintances we made alone will leave us to sleep, Gold and silver in our youth we picked will have new masters, Then, when death has had harvested our lives. But now is the time, Now is the time to inscribe our names, Deep in the skin of the sky, Tattooing them so thickly that stars should envy, So that even when we pass, Those alive then may know that we too...

While the night draws near, A hand of a painter is seen unclear, He paints the skies black, And creatively places glittering Fireflies there, He plants each fearfully, causing darkness to mute. This painter then sprinkles wet air, But even then his painting is not fair, So with a creators touch, he suspends in the sky a whitish-grey ball; Which in turn welcomes all beings in daylight rare, Thus his piece is completed, and finally exposed to all on earth. Gerry Sikazwe

Bites of the Sun By its long sharp golden fangs Poison black my skin Gerry Sikazwe