For LaS

your messages captivate me so
forcing a tear each time you go
on and on dwelling on what can be
and what is to be
I love you, you love me
and by the Volta we swear this
I have come to accept and to live it
that there is no ending, no turning
today or the much awaited future
which we can only imagine and conjecture

but we have to keep turning and turning
like the lazy hands of the clock
which journeys painfully to dock
at the hour, and shows itself ready
for the next journey which must be taken

such must our love be
divided by seas we look at one sky
yearning for the connection we do not see
and uttering supplications saying 'come nigh'

knowing that we lose once we answer the call
from our dreaded enemy who idles only
at dawn throwing stones at our door
serving the unwanted time notice

but we shall not heed
any lazy timer nor her children
nor the heavy breath of their structured lives

The Present

Somebody is not thinking
Minds dislodged in heads
A fountain at Legon springs
A first year defecates on some dried faeces in the toilet
Wiping himself with leaves expunged
From the centre pages of his newly bought book
The best burning lights in the wind
Of mind domination has been lost.

Of doings bearing inedible fruits today
The fashioned streamlining of the thought process
Long buried in the trenches of doom in ancient days
Altered, altered, altered
Every imposed master pig-testing Minds


The openings of light on the hill
Has become refuge not to the knowledge seeking
Certainly not a hub for new things
Certainly not the Nation’s best hope

The Choosing of the Ten

And the choosing of the ten
Among the virgins is not random
For ten is purity;
And so are virgins
And these fresh flowers
That bloom so well
Knew that which a lamp does
For it is a revelation
To those eyes that see less
And light to the eternal path
The eye must see these;
Not things of just pen and paper
Although they carry what drives men
But we are mutants in the army
Forever fashioning and refashioning
Propelling the self into varying likeness
Unto the kingdom
This is not our identity crisis
For sameness is our due

For a Young Friend that Left Without a Bye

The ugly face of death
and its unwanted kiss on your precious lips we all cherish
That death’s kiss bars us now
Forming the dark curtain we cannot cross with you.
Where we part now is a reminder
of our feet buried in the dark cold sand
that makes the mark at the door
where our past dreams melted with the present
For future adventures
You left.
Abandoning our cherished ways
for a lone unknown path
You left.
Our eyes only flash fond memories
The hunger moments at Grandma’s Inn
Same soup, you will look on meekly
It will be alright you will say
We shared—
You left.
Anelka, we will say
Keeping the forced vigil this night
We know you will blow out the candle lights.
You will have none of our tears.
It was for you—
We should smile only on your memory
and bless it with palmwine
littered with drops of dew
The taste will usher you into your new life
and your ghost will hover around
at our lunch tables
You will receive your drink

Legon, November 2009