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

MONKEYS FED HIM

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

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
ALL IS WELL

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

GAWBOFEST 2012

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
To GAWBOFEST.

HURRICANE BAMAKO

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.

STILL BEING EATEN

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

Blood

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 21^st 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

Blood

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

Blood

From our earth across the horizon where

Earth kissed the Clouds!

11/02/2012 Takoradi