Once a Line Drops

Once a line drops
In the mind it crops
As we struggle with their words
With pronunciation getting worse

The supremacy of that language
Like Nkrumah in his age
It spreads further
Their language has feathers

My Grief

Read at Radio Univers, UG. 15th Jan, 07.

In my countless years
In every small good deed
That came from me
All I see is tears
For they render me
The beggarly thanks
And this is nothing but pranks
To untruthfully blind me
But such is human nature
Lies, deceit, ill-thinking!
Such treasures compose their hollow stature
And now I see their conscience shrinking
Yet the dawn gives me life
To fight the rife strife of life.

Nightmare

Read at Radio Univers, UG. 15th Jan. 07.

Would my motherland develop?
I see children nude and barefooted
Like our ancestors
Round stomach and dark faces
Would my motherland develop?
I see mothers with six-year old children
At their cozy back to market
And the classrooms are empty
Would my mother land ever develop?
I fear that which I perceive
Rulers in waste of words
And we grow worse
I see dead people
Dead souls on our lands face
Mingling with the living
With wretchedness on their face

Ancestral Faces

Read at Radio Univers, UG.

Oh! The falling mouth
Hanging heavy with proverbial weight
Their head round, encircled
With ancient wisdom
Dug furrowed brow
Exhausted with intelligence
Eyes milky
For what million evils they see
Their cracked lined soles
Oh for their countless journeys untold
Their palm wined filled belly
In there lies quietly in fury
The unquenching flames of the ancestral spirits
Shrouded by the fist of a pacifist
Angrily ready for drops of wine
Oh to stoke the wet flames
And evoke their spirits
To peaceful war against their enemies
And they last more ages
For they ate not in silver, but pots.