Sunday, 8 December 2013

If You Are Priscilla I Will Be Gabriella

Come, oh, celestial queen
Let me carry you in my palanquin
You are not a chloroquine
To be washed away with so-kiln

It is an abomination
Not to harvest determination
To make you my possession
Though in economic deprivation

You said your name is Priscilla,
Oh I will give you a crystal clear Chrysler.
I will change my name to Gabriella
To rhyme with yours at Shangri-la

Did you say you work at Metropolitan
Or you said Cosmopolitan?
Whichever it is, sine or tan
Any theta shall make a perfect pun

Sorry I let my heart out
In this market with a shout
With no dream streams of doubt
I know these hidden seeds will surely sprout!

30/06/2011 Adabraka

Thursday, 14 November 2013




your rib gate
goes insane
hands over the keys
to that
soft soft
nurtured behind the ribs



our souls melt
flowing stream of


We’ll lead ourselves
to some altar
where our innocence
will be sacrificed
to a god
sitting somewhere
deep in us


Friday, 8 November 2013


At dawn
It was all smiles
and kisses
and touches
It was all moans
and moans
and moans
the dagger in the smiles
the fireTongues in the moans
birthed a river
of blood
of tears
of screams

My heart lies


waiting and waiting

for stiches…

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Home Dancer

Her aesthetic feet are
Zigzagging through the soils
In response to the call
Of the woods of drums
Adorned in adinkra,
Teaching and rebuking
Our fast falling homes
Turning into houses.
And now she bids me come
With luring parted lips
Giving her face a smile.
As I get nearer, behold
Her breast entangled in kente
Shaped like twin fufu balls
Protruding majestically in earthenware.
Still she bids me come
And her beaded feet massage the soils
In consonance with
Rumbling intriguing rhythms.
Leave me, my people
Let me get caught in her arms
Embracing her beauty
Adorned in kente and beads
And feel honoured.
And still she bids me 'me
Leave me, I must go.
01/ /08 Legon.

Thursday, 24 October 2013

Daily Requiem Mass

At the sundown
When the burial must be done
There will be nothing left to be interred

Each rising kills;
Each sleeping lay in state
An essential part of the body--dead

A song, a wail, a tear
All work with and for
Same result: our death!

So sing me another song of love
Tell me of roses and Shangri-la
Teach me of the father’s love
And the son’s willing sacrifice

Life with its vast marshlands
Is enough interment of desires
Dressed for a Requiem Mass
Before the quench of the final breath!

Give me wreaths to decorate my bed
Write me tributes for special messages
Lead me to my private cemetery on birthday:
These shall outlast my tombstones

Whatever is done or undone
There shall be nothing left for interment

When the final breath is gone

Saturday, 19 October 2013

Sunlight at Midnight

There is sunlight at midnight
When all things retire
And all grey time expire
There is sunlight at midnight

There are rocks of pain
Dancing in our dreams
Dogs came and stole our last meal
Bats flew over our beds, spitting faecal maters
Clouds lash us with burning light
Then smoke us in steams
And leave us in earth’s frying pan

But my love

There is sunlight at midnight
When all things retire
And all grey time expire
There is sunlight at midnight

Monday, 7 October 2013


Every thought has a corresponding feeling
Every feeling has a location in a body

The Castle leaks
Toil sinks
I cry God

We were all in the struggle falling in front
Carving paths, chronicling history

Flagstaff House leaked
Hopes sank
We cried God

Were we looking for dead crabs like those
Our basketfuls will have been more than twelve

Peduase Lodge is leaking
Joys sinking
We all are crying God

Shall we find to yet other savior-leaders?

These are thoughts
Located body feelings
I cried God.

26/01/2011 Kotobabi.

Monday, 30 September 2013

In The Butchers Hands

Each day we wake up
There are tears in the eyes of earth
So our little joys
Become little toys
Tossed into the blaze

In the burnt up moons
We measure our strength with blood
The volume split
Tells our love for dignity
Yet battle songs are not always for the brave
The brave keep their hearts pure but unafraid

Recently it was Alkebulan
That submerged
In the flood of human body parts
Piled up, yams tubers
For sale at the World Trade Centre
But before they got there
The Centre was burnt by peace lovers
Sparking several vengeful display
Of scientific supremacy

Now Syria lies at the crossroad
Her fate lingering in the divining room
Each mystical message
Telling different tales-
Germany said no
UK said no
France in a dilemma
USA full of venom
Goes to Congress for death certificate
All for Syria

The diviner lies prostrate
Trying hard not to tilt the du

We all stand
Holding hands across our heads
Praying Syria never goes to the butchers
Her meat, to the soul-prison

Like Libya

Friday, 27 September 2013



The cockerel doesn’t
Summon day to rise from its snore
As it is in down-south
Man and nature are far
In thought and deed
In music and dance
In laughter and sorrow

Earth takes a bath
Keeps herself clean
And man is cautious
Not to offend earth.

7/8/2013 Trondheim

Thursday, 26 September 2013

Wonder Children

We grew on orphaned kenkey
And physically impaired kalami
But the dawn 
Never died in our dreams
Once we were the hunted turtle
Whose every cell made our predator
The master of our clan-
Maiming souls
Crippling spirits
Quenching hopes
Shuttering lives,
Long ago
We were the mineral rocks
Broken to extract the wealth
And dumped on the offshore,
We dwelt among pigs
Dinned with birds
Slept with mosquitoes
So long ago
We were the last desires
Of a world growing
On blood and flesh
On bones and marrows
On tears and chains
But dawn came
Restored the smiles hidden
Under the scar of yesterday
So they now see us
The Wonder-children

The Hippo Overturned Our Canoe

(Tribute to Professor Kofi Nyiᶑeʋu Awoonor)

Nyiᶑeʋu meᶑea keʋu o

The hippo does not overturn
The canoe with sandload

Nyiᶑewu meᶑea keʋu o

This hippo overturned it
This hippo overturned it

We are the snake
Whose head Al-Shabab caught
We only wag our tails defenseless
The hippo overturned our canoe
But never it’s content
For the sand is too HEAVY to sink
Your voice, too loud to sink

In this corner of our common fate
Fire in a neighbour’s farm
Consumes all farm-huts
A dirge from a distant drum
Splits the tear-bag in our brains
The blast of toy-guns
Mold fireballs, dispersed across all souls

Indeed, yours is a great journey
So let not the children mourn
The transition of a pathfinder
And his voice, the path-adder

Let monuments rise
Lift up the anthems
Sound is mother to words

And let the great ancestor
March on into eternity
To remain
Eternal father of modern Ghanaian poetry

Nyiᶑeʋu meᶑea keʋu o

The hippo does not overturn
The canoe with sandload

Nyiᶑewu meᶑea keʋu o