The past is alive
Forever holding secrets untapped
It swells in our deepest sorrows
Discomfort to mark our nostalgia
The present is hibernating
Inconsistencies and immoralities unstopped
Like a dead rat that smells in the shadows
Of a church. And a stinking future
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Voice of Wretchedness
First read at Radio Univers, university of Ghana.
I cast my lame eyes
On thw dark shadow that follow me
I dream if i may go without it
And slowly i picture my rise
My life is an island
And steadily i'm been eaten by sea
My toil is manifold like the sand
Abundant, worthless and stranded
A distressed soul that i am
I pray i eat my sin
Lynch myself and purge my soul
I'm scared and tired
Of the dirty grimaces of life
What people say i care no more
They say such is life
But why is life such?
The winding unwinding intertwining
Street of life. Short paths to filthy gold
And if it's like this
How things are i don't know
May be you will tell me.
I cast my lame eyes
On thw dark shadow that follow me
I dream if i may go without it
And slowly i picture my rise
My life is an island
And steadily i'm been eaten by sea
My toil is manifold like the sand
Abundant, worthless and stranded
A distressed soul that i am
I pray i eat my sin
Lynch myself and purge my soul
I'm scared and tired
Of the dirty grimaces of life
What people say i care no more
They say such is life
But why is life such?
The winding unwinding intertwining
Street of life. Short paths to filthy gold
And if it's like this
How things are i don't know
May be you will tell me.
Our Lost Sisters
This poem was first read at Radio Univers, university of Ghana. I have to apologise to any woman who may take offence, even in that i say that she should read fairly. I'm not used to doing this on my works. It is for the sake of a wider audience. I found it necessary as this is peculiar to my 'hood' and almost to my dear country. Enjoy it...
Girl child, sister child
Mother child, auntie child
Sack them from the homes to school
Dig the earth; hide the cooking pots
Let the men cook and wear skirts
The breasted wear trousers and quater shirts
Let us see the women's navel
And their foamy round things
They blatantly display the equator
Between their breast
It parades like a double barrelled gun
Now i hear they dance
Around metals in round acrobatics
Amongst thunderous sounds and blinking lights
Red, blue, white, yellow, black lights.
Girl child, sister child
Mother child, auntie child
Sack them from the homes to school
Dig the earth; hide the cooking pots
Let the men cook and wear skirts
The breasted wear trousers and quater shirts
Let us see the women's navel
And their foamy round things
They blatantly display the equator
Between their breast
It parades like a double barrelled gun
Now i hear they dance
Around metals in round acrobatics
Amongst thunderous sounds and blinking lights
Red, blue, white, yellow, black lights.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Gallery
Read at Radio Univers, UG. 21th Jan, o7.
This poem goes to all our African brothers and sisters (or any foreigner) who suffered the act of enormous violence against humanity in Rwanda and elsewhere on the globe. With much passion.
From afar i heard a baby cry
Amidst moving feet of soldiers
No mother, no father.
From afar i saw a one-hand man
Laying with bombs and grenades
No brother, no wife.
From afar i felt the wounds of a woman
Big holes in her thighs, sugary tears
No husband, no children.
From afar a girl lay, blood in her thighs
Disgraced by filthy soldiers of death
No parents, no nation.
We murder, we commit genocide
Any energy? Fight the ills
Fight not my brother, your sister
This is not it, fight
Kill black, kill Africa
Be an enzyme, a catalyst, fight
And destroy all the work
Which Garvey, Luther
Nkrumah and Mandela
Fought and built!
Fight! All of it is nothing
Fight, but chaff
And pictures are better.
This poem goes to all our African brothers and sisters (or any foreigner) who suffered the act of enormous violence against humanity in Rwanda and elsewhere on the globe. With much passion.
From afar i heard a baby cry
Amidst moving feet of soldiers
No mother, no father.
From afar i saw a one-hand man
Laying with bombs and grenades
No brother, no wife.
From afar i felt the wounds of a woman
Big holes in her thighs, sugary tears
No husband, no children.
From afar a girl lay, blood in her thighs
Disgraced by filthy soldiers of death
No parents, no nation.
We murder, we commit genocide
Any energy? Fight the ills
Fight not my brother, your sister
This is not it, fight
Kill black, kill Africa
Be an enzyme, a catalyst, fight
And destroy all the work
Which Garvey, Luther
Nkrumah and Mandela
Fought and built!
Fight! All of it is nothing
Fight, but chaff
And pictures are better.
Drinks: The Con of Man
First read at Radio Univers, UG. 15th Jan, 07.
As we sat under the tree
The wine filled the sky
And forms dew on our face
To rain a consent of meditation
The world ceases
In deference to our wine
The con in our wine
Cleanses the pong in the air
And if this be pooh-pooh
As drinkards
Alcohol and soup
Are like magnets
And not all drinkards
Are like like dried plantain
Awaiting soap process
Ask the president, the senator;
Ask my MP, my governor
They shall declare my evil
It decorates their rooms
It's the bravery to cowards
Comfort to the secluded
A taste is godly, unseen
A platform to vent your spleen
And a god to be revered
As we sat under the tree
The wine filled the sky
And forms dew on our face
To rain a consent of meditation
The world ceases
In deference to our wine
The con in our wine
Cleanses the pong in the air
And if this be pooh-pooh
As drinkards
Alcohol and soup
Are like magnets
And not all drinkards
Are like like dried plantain
Awaiting soap process
Ask the president, the senator;
Ask my MP, my governor
They shall declare my evil
It decorates their rooms
It's the bravery to cowards
Comfort to the secluded
A taste is godly, unseen
A platform to vent your spleen
And a god to be revered
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Resonations of the Land
Read at Radio Universe, university of Ghana, Legon.
They rob my sons, my strength
They rob my daughters, my backbone
And still I'm not crippled
The brainwash my land, my people
I create and they steal
And like a fowl i continue to lay
I lay dark clean-shaven men
With metal bones for their farms
Greater minds i breed
And again they steal
And they can't kill me
I just won't die
They suppress my laughter
Because they hide
They hide behind the bullet
And wonder why I'd not died yet
But when i rise clouded by smoke
And walk in the flames of my fury
I shall crash, crunch and lynch them
Yet I'm merciful, not a leopard
I'm not murderous, but an eagle
And no melody mollifies
They rob my sons, my strength
They rob my daughters, my backbone
And still I'm not crippled
The brainwash my land, my people
I create and they steal
And like a fowl i continue to lay
I lay dark clean-shaven men
With metal bones for their farms
Greater minds i breed
And again they steal
And they can't kill me
I just won't die
They suppress my laughter
Because they hide
They hide behind the bullet
And wonder why I'd not died yet
But when i rise clouded by smoke
And walk in the flames of my fury
I shall crash, crunch and lynch them
Yet I'm merciful, not a leopard
I'm not murderous, but an eagle
And no melody mollifies
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