October 14, 2020

Compressed black and swallowed, it lays buried inside a canvas of melted, foolish lines.

Busted color leaked into solidarity on an open pupil.

Trapped inside a fluxing current smudged with bereavement and the blissful madness in-bedded from

the gluttony of au courant moments, moments true and peeled,

moments rotted and soiled in the profoundness bathing inside the ticking unanimity of ones own mind; visible existence.

And oh the things it bares witness to;

Transportive passions spun into the playful minds of eager architects.

Mid-summer sky’s, boiling, smiling, scolding the skin.

How it exchanges the dreams planked inside the weary tear ducts of tepid cooling clouds.

And blackness, born from a speechless space, an alchemistic abyss;  one third of our lives.

What paradise finds home inside these jello eyes?

For it is they that wrote this, not I.

Eyes of white,

Eyes of gold,

Courted and neatly trimmed by the thoughts of Michael Angelo.

These glinting, darting, dancing eyes,

Why they have no option but to nebulously sink, in occasion, behind the squint of suspicious lids.

Safeguarded at all times.

But while they remain veiled beneath weakened lids,

They remain open,

fixated inside the belly of a crepuscular night;

 They do not sleep.


This poem is getting published in the Oxford Poetry Society Magazine, Ash in London.


Between the Gap


It’s that small whisper in-between the fog.

Wounds hushed by plush snow,

and woeful hearts melted through tepid strokes.

Light, right before the fade of dark.

Or fire seduced by adjacent streams.

It’s that closing of the gap as I near you.

Can you feel it?

The swaying hairs reaching from my arm.

Can you see it?

My swollen iris, lids double fluttering.

Or can you hear the wings of butterflies

pounding against captured air.

Long, rolling, syllables,

thinly spread upon a bed of silence;

begging to fill the space where you begin and I end.

And why is that as far as I’m allowed to get,

beside the respite of breath billowing between our lips?

I want to subsist inside the gap.

The difference of the two?

  A slight of hand,

a slit between being alive and merely breathing.

Ladies and Gentlemen meet Zosienka, a successful artists residing in London whose artistic passion has led her to create paper goods, textiles, ceramics, stationary and beautiful, poignant designs for everyday objects, making her one of London’s finest Illustrators along with her Illustration partner Rosie. Their work in animation, marionettes & intricate biscuit-icing have attracted the attention of clients such as Bat- for- Lashes, Kele, Asbury and End of the World. The amusing energy of dark children’s stories, spirited creatures and natures spiraling shapes and patterns are intricately inked into every piece of work.

So, without further ado may I present, from London,one of the two precious gems,




Q & A

Favorite word: Porcupine

Favorite thing in nature: It’s impossible to have a favourite thing, I just enjoy the mystery of it all.

One of  your movies: Arizona Dream

Favorite place to do art: A place that’s quiet and still, I have a studio.

Favorite music to inspire creativity: Miles Davis

Favorite smell: Rain on pavements

Favorite sound: Trees swaying

Where were you born: Johannesburg, South Africa

When you were a little  what did you want to be?An acrobat. I had a trapeze in my bedroom and I’dswing on it every evening whilst listening to Jackson 5.

Was there a time you felt like you were not going to be able to make a living off of being an artist?  If yes, what would you advice to others about pursuing their dreams based upon how you were able to manifest yours.

It is unfortunately a feeling that constantly comes and goes. I keep at it and the most important thing is to be adaptable. If you are trying to make your art a business, you have to apply it to the things people need, or think they need.

Who/What inspires or moves you? I’m very impressionable. Films often dictate my mood for days after I’ve seen them. That can be a good experience, as I’ll imagineI’m living on the shoes of those characters and might just look at the world in a different way for a while.

What is the message or story behind your art? There are no messages that I’m aware of as I have no intent of saying anything particular. What might be subconsciously communicated is another matter and one that won’t occur to me till much later.

What would you say is a strong key to being happy w/ oneself? That is a vital question. Maybe the key is not to have high expectations, rather to take things as they come and to live in the moment rather than keep waiting for things to change.

What are a few of your favorite things? Trees, I keep them in my home. Foxes, I’d love to keep them in my home but watch them from my window for now. Patchwork fabrics, I’mmaking a quilt. The little hats on  acorns. And Cote D’Or Bouchee chocolate pralines.