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