Monday, 3 December 2012


 a tear for brother Mahamed al-Ajami

the voice cannot be silent
the tongue cannot keep quiet
the song cannot cease to prick consciences
while citizens suffocate

but even if they castrate our voices
our anus will shout
even if they seal our anus
our hair-pores will trumpet
and even if they un-skin us
our blood veins shall be un-mute

i share a tear with you
but stand upon the thorns
so we could break the back of lions' rules!


Thursday, 29 November 2012



Your 7th day is a perfect day
Let peace reign.

a word can send a sword away
a naughty step can draw the sword

each step, each word
may birth a war or a piece
that can serve a piece of cake
at the jamboree of a common national dream
the rival of this
we must cast away.

"My brothers and my sisters
Ghana is the only country we have"

Peace is not a piece
of bodies pulled together
like harvested yam at Tamale central market,
covered with green leaves for eternal
burial into stomachs
It is burying the ugly tongue
that may draw a sword
                   or a song

AND when it is all over
we shall forge a greater family,
hold hands, share pito, drink sobolo
eat tuo zaafi, eat akple and fetri-detsi
sing patriotic songs and dance
to the eternal drumtunes
29/11/2012 Legon

Sunday, 25 November 2012


through our cactus journeys
you kept the smile, the hope, the dream
and you grew, flamboyant
defying scorching suns and evil eyes
and  now  you   stand
against the venom
of accusing voices and curses
and now you cruise into green-fields
with the smile, the hope, the dream.

but oh
there is still the glory beyond these hopes
a joy condensed at our nearing destination
still hold the dream
look beyond the clouds
beyond the tears of today's soul.


Tuesday, 20 November 2012


The makeshift rockets and missiles
Shake the souls of our dreams
As children of the world
1000 bodies divided into salad
Served at dinning at Gaza

Give our eyes goose-pimples.

But what does the foetus 
Have to do with a war
It knows nothing about?
Why must the child be 
The victim of a reckless
brotherhood claiming lion-ness
over others' animal-ness?

and now our tears flood
the sea,
birthing hurricane Sandy 

then there will be hurricane Gaza

our heads
shall decorate the victory flag-posts
our blood shall colour the victory flags

our unborn future
shall ghost haunt the victory parties

and what a fractured world
shall remain
in memory of GAZA?

20/11/2012 Language Centre, Legon


There is this silence
Heavier than the gunshot
A voice, keeping me away 
From telling you how much I...

This great unrealistic desire
Puts us all at a journey's end
At this primal days of our sojourn.
It is a thorn
Cutting deep, making us bleed
Yet protecting and decorating
Our dreams and TEARS and fears;
This razor
Bringing the true colour of our blood
But painfully, to the admiration of...
This porcupine skin
Taking or not taking:
each with its smile
each with its tears
each with its fears

There must be conversations
and the silence cripples us all


The call came
the line died down
we all DIED, unconventionally!

20/11/2012, Language Centre, Legon.

Monday, 19 November 2012


The free education debate has become a theological debate. Many people who might not have heard of Pastor Otabil’s teachings on education are now aware of everything. The Pastor has come out to do the unusual: organizing a press conference apart from the press release by the church.

Does the International Central Gospel Church (ICGC) have a different Jesus that they follow or not? This is a harmless question. I don’t want to be drafted into the debate too. However I know as a Christian that Jesus teaches that we shall be persecuted, insulted and even killed for his sake but our rewards are in heaven. What about this? Is Jesus not powerful enough to defend his own?
Then there is the issue of judgment. Pastor Otabil calls his accusers and what they say “evil”. The Bible says we should not judge so that we will also be judges. What about this? 

There was a story of a Jesus of Dzorwulu who came preaching that we should not bath. There was also a Pastor in the North of Ghana who predicted the end of the world, and the list continues. Who shall we believe now?

Wednesday, 14 November 2012


Come Brother Come
Yesterday, our brother-leader was shot
in the pipe-hose at his birthplace;
and the sun set on our land at dawn
Come Brother Come
See the debris of our bulldozed dreams
Rotting in the oil fields and goldmines;
And watched. Our arms glued at our backs
The ancient whip modernised 
And flung at our silent souls
As Tripoli falls into alien hands 
It's waters flowing into stranger dams
Her insects screaming in foreign sounds
As we watched. Our arms TIED to our backs.
14/11/2012 Legon

Friday, 9 November 2012


we are the children of
the loins of warriors
we survived the panthers' threats
Africa, the home of the BRAVE!

Sunday, 4 November 2012


The skull of the lazy
is not worth the hair of the brave
so I come

I come to you with the voice
that sets the sea ablaze
that floods the desert
that melts the mountains
in the breaking of the virginity of words

last night i saw the foot-marks of the panther
i crawled on my heart.
but my tongue stood like
the giant of the moon tales

it is the chick
that keeps scratching the ground 
that discovers the skull of its grandmother

so when you see again
Those prophets
massaging the brain of our consciences
taking the storms from our voices
chanting the dirges of our birth
splashing the egg of shadows
over our minds
Look at them in the eye
and punch the nail of truth
into their hearts.

we walk through darkness
to arrive at light
but under the sound of fire
we feel cold, shivering
Forever shivering in our emaciated souls
Asking, forever asking
When shall our freedom be born
When shall our freedom be born
When shall our freedom be born?

But here comes a season
when we shall no more hide hernia
from the water-closet.

Friday, 2 November 2012

my land.: ANCESTRAL VOICES: 10GHS for students.

my land.: ANCESTRAL VOICES: 10GHS for students.

ANCESTRAL VOICES: 10GHS for students.

A Plea For Justice

Returning from a riverside
With a bucket of water
I saw droplets of tears
Cumulating by and by
Forming a small stream
Snaking to the riverside.

Returning from the riverside
I heard wailings of people
Children and old
Men, women, boys and girls
 Cursingly crying as the tears were
Snaking to the riverside.

Returning from the riverside
Injustice and greed matrimonized
Hunger, poverty and disease familiarised
Under the auspices of scavenging aristocrats
While tears of the victimised were
Snaking to the riverside.

Returning from the riverside
I heard complains complaining
Yet none listened to them
A little girl knelt before me pleading
For my intersection as her tears were
Snaking to the riverside.

Returning from the riverside
I gather plights and sorrows
To the altar of justice
And he sent me to men
Seeking mercy for other men whose tears are
Snaking to the riverside.

                                11/12/2008 Legon

Tuesday, 16 October 2012


The dogs seek preys!

These dogs want to hunt
But there’s no prey

The hunter, dog trainer
Now must suffer the venom
Of these dogs.
So now he moans, he moans
The dogs swoop on his treasured
Body parts. Now scattered in trillion bags.

The hunter seeks soul help
But oh! Who, who will deliver
The god from the might of it’s
Handiwork? Who? Who?

21:40, 7/10/2012, Legon.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012


I, Aniglida, am the dangerous serpent.
When we, the snakes of our forests
Take thirty-seven log strokes
From the hands of our enemies,
I walked safely home
While the rest of my generation
Ache and quake and cake in a cage
Of eternal death.

I am the most courageous soul;
All others may suffer comas
At the sight of one half of my woes
But since a hunter doesn’t say
All the mysteries of his art
I kept my secrets upon oath.

It is not cowardice
That mutes the cat
At the sight of events
That makes dogs bark with shameless thunders.
Let the gourd that thinks itself the greatest
Pay a visit to the riverside at dawn.

 30/5/2012 Lome, Togo.

Harvested Ash

In the deep womb of time
Are built silos of chime

When the tiger searches maize
In sprinting hunger haze
And dashes to the silos in a splash
Finds in them only ash

So let the limping lions lie
Let the dying dogs die
Let the melting magma melt
And let them not look up for help!

30/08/2012 Mafi- Kumase

Thursday, 20 September 2012

Watch out for this great novel from a great writer and lecturer.


It was monkeys that fed him
When his teenage mother threw him
To die, unwanted child
Product of a licking condom,

It was he who held the linguist staff
Of our clan’s chief, speaking in idioms
Twisting alphabetical arrangements
To the delight of human ears;
And all applauded his wisdom

It he whose soft stomach
Promoted human children into
Halls of stethoscopic academia,
Linguists of our Chief Justice
And we held him high
Composing of him, eulogies.

Today, his image hangs
Hanging under an umbrella
On giant billboards in this same place
Where once we sang his name in appellations
Today, we point our left hands
Into his face, spat under his feet
And bathed him in our phlegm
Asking who his parents could possibly be
And who could in the first and second and third place
Have given him his thumb to share in that Chamber of that House?

It was monkeys that fed him
Now that we know!

12/01/2012 Mafi Kumase

my land.: MY HEART BEATS

my land.: MY HEART BEATS: My heart beats in verses in versions of realities and doubts: will the growing mountains go gay will the melting magma moan will the wa...


My heart beats in verses
in versions of realities and doubts:

will the growing mountains go gay
will the melting magma moan
will the waning winners win
will the searching searchers see?

my heart beats in inverse verses

when shall man be truly man
to man the unmanned moments of a race
in constant quest of self-righteousness
and selfishness
and self... self... self...?

my heart beats in versions

of the things that exist that don't exist 
but we know they exist.
there are things larger than the clouds
things piercing like knives
but humanity pretends

in which wellness
will all be well
when we know all isn't well
in this deep well of a world?

20/9/2012 Legon


All the journeys start with a dream
And GAW’s dream still rise up high over the rainbows
Flying, still flying high above the ancient pyramids of Egypt,
Over the Fattah Jallon mountains,
Over the Kalahari,
Crafting newer dreams and raising the hope of our souls

Drink now
The wine of your greatness
In the fullness
Of blissfulness

Drink from the pride of your land
As your children come paying homage

Saturday, 21 April 2012


Bamako is a Hurricane

Bamako now a Hurricane…

The muzzles shouted our common progressive death

In Deep Deep Sahel Bamako

To reveal to resurrect from our earth

The sorrow

Artificially inseminated into our wombs

The bullets, the coups added again

The corpses in my heart hidden from vultures.

First the Sahara spring gave me million expired souls

Then the remnant hands glued together

The wasted bullets to plunder a dream in Sundiata-land

The concerto of betrayals, shall be the poet’s song

The gift of Generals who gave license to renegade Tuaregs

And now they hold the throat of ancestral Timbuktu

And dehydrate ancient Gao

Captain Amadou Sanogo, go tell

That we carry the bullets in our souls across the rivers

Amadou Toumani Toure, go tell

That we weep blood with him, as it forms rivers

Through the contours of spaces in our common land.

Bamako is a Hurricane

Bamako now a Hurricane…

 3/4/2012 Legon.

Friday, 13 April 2012


And the vultures saluted me
As I enter again into this
Ancestral Oguaaman.

The vultures say the old stone-house
Of ancestral anguish, ran out of

In songs, I tried to escape this truth
Louder than gunshots yet silence as sea-breeze
In songs I tried to articulate the abstraction
Of this 21st century truth
In songs I tried to laugh at the despair
Of this white birds in need

The vultures say the old stone-house
Of ancestral anguish, ran out of

In the loudness of mu silence
I wondered if this is the fire
Burning the heart of our siblings
From another climate-mother
To command the recent flow of our
From our earth across the horizon where
Earth kissed the Clouds!

11/02/2012 Takoradi

Thursday, 29 March 2012


Smells of the echoes of your tongue
Blocked oxygen’s penetration of my larynx
These days of abracadabra:

My land is a magic house
And all my siblings are changers of materials
Into other materials:

My and has twenty-two million magicians
At whose esoteric glance
Cocaine baptizes into kokonte and baking powder:

Even at the reverberating footsteps of the eyes
Of the law-men and women
And a huge stone wall of silence
Is fortified around the scientific change

The footsteps of your eyes, my land
Is sounding in receding crescendo
Even as you trek towards me

At whose feet can we lay our burdens?
Not at the Cross overfilled with garbage.
At whose feet shall we expiate your name, my land?

3/1/12 Mafi Kumase.