Feed the cattle back their milk
Give the dogs back their barks
Hand the silkworms back their silk
Give the trees back their barks
Put the carnassials back in the mouths of the pride of lions
Leave the blind to search their own Zions
That’s what’s fair!

Turn time into a truck
And drive back to the age of deceit
When cruelty struck
To innocence, like an armless dove, defeat
Charm those who caused the harm out of their graves
To sing a regret song that saves
…and paves way for a going back
That’s what is fair!

No matter how intelligent a mind is
…it can sit not on pate to receive greetings
Sins of the fathers scar their sons
…oh crosses no one else can carry!
So go back and place dignity
…in the bowl of history

A dying peacock
…which inherited its ails from its parents
…can blame none other than its ancestry
So let them who sleep at the junction of their waist
…waste no time in accusations of extinction
Let them use their trees in between the crossroad of their thighs
To bear more fruits in competition
If the skills are lacking
Let them seek from the blessed abundance
…in humility

Fairness is paying a debt
…even if your head is the cost
Fairness is knowing the unfair
…and owning up to your share
There are roots easily uprooted
…after gaining grounds
Still, there are roots unprootable
…when they gain grounds
So let barking dogs turn cats for a second
To help their ears work with their thoughts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 23, 2019


You there –
…looking so darkingly fair
Can’t you see my interest
…caught in the rays of your awesome shine?

You there –
…making me fidget like a bad queer
…looking like a treasure in a dream land
Can’t you see me searching your eyes
…amidst the many star bugged ones looking?
How are you doing this?
You sure look like my home

I can see the lawn of tenderness
…on your awesome frame
I can see the light of care
…in your gait
I feel the bricks of responsibility
…in your build
I can hear the sound of love
…coming from your home theatre
And I see a big heart through the bulbs
…in your bathrooms
Promising forgivenesses for mistakes unborn
Pointing at flushing them into forgiveness
And measuring you with my perfection tape
The level of temperamental shakes
…is up to my loving level
So why are you standing
…staring around
…and frightening my dreams?

Look here and throw me the keys
Please look here and throw me the keys to you
All those keys to open every part of you
I’ve already extended mine for your fetch
Jump on the time
…and pull me along
In living us to the glory of our time

Did the taillights just pass me by?
…that simplicity has been gobbled down by sophistication
I have to train to refrain from this main machine
…acting bane and running insane at your sight
I lose again in the world of beauty
Wandering on in hope of another spark
…like yours
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 22, 2019


Sparrows wearing arrows
…scenting sorrows
…heading hollow zones
Force to be no clones

If the metamorphosis of snow
…into water
Is forcing possibility of a fish
…birthing a bird
…on a rope of deceptive analogy
Then wash your minds with spring water

Just as cats won’t develop wings to fly
…pigs won’t turn snakes to scare
…chickens won’t turn horses to gallop
A scarecrow can never run after thieves
…in a bush farm

Even chickens flee
…when hawks visit with love
Will ducks prepare a meeting with eagles?
So sparrows will forever wear sorrows
…if they fly on skies
…fetching them arrows
And their destination will be a fated to fail horror
…in a hollow ground

Be ye advised
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 21, 2019


Grow gutsies gunning gains
…in glad games of great gold
…to get the gifts of goddesses pairing gods
…and not goddesses pairing gross

Wing winners without wanes of wins
…without weapons to wrench wings off wins
…with no wickedness working a wreck
For wills work well with we

Bought brutality breeds bad bosses
…breaking bones of bests
…beating brains in bright
…beasting bears of bliss
While boasting betters of the broken

Live and let’s live
…don’t live and let others leave
For living will be lonely
…and long
…if lifers cut loose lives
…with lurking loopholes

Grow the great to be greater
Wing the wingless to pair the winged
Banish brutality in broken brutes
Love is like light in the dark
…it works wonders in winning most worsts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 20, 2019



The dressing of the nation
…determines its addressing in other nations
So seeing buttocks turned legs
…as burdened hands beg by roadsides,
Seeing rotten eyes
…turning in eyelids
…as hoarse voices sing sad sad tunes
…like Job at do or die jobs
Being given notes that read a plea
…for feeding fee
…for a deaf and dumb
Are no beautiful clothes for a continent
…in sights of visitors

Care for the vulnerable
…is the first plus of every Supreme entity
Because vulnerability is a door
…which attracts pests
…when left ajar
Let’s not make these sad sights
…part of our tourist attraction

Let’s think for those who have lost their thoughts
Let’s be the hands and legs of those who have lost theirs
…training the willing to be fed a fair deal
Let’s be the eyes of the visually impaired
Let’s be the voices of the soundless
To help repair our image
…on minds of the visiting
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 19, 2019


We are where we are
Because long ago, guardian spirits went to visit the Gods
…on our behalf
…and came back to a locked door
…with alien chants at their hunt

Fearing demons had besieged their people
…they called on the Gods to save the people
…but the people called the Gods Satan
…and named the guardian spirits
Banishing them to the nearby forest
…and naming the protective forest “evil”
…the Gods capital initial demoted
…like a faulted soldier
…to a common
Human spirits gathering at their chase
…with hooting claps
…and deafening curses of prayers

The waters they protected
…were soiled with litter
…until aliens who had seen their glitter
…mined their piety
The freedom they gave
…soon deminished
…but the people were dedicated
…their prayers intensifying
…like the Job they’d been told of
…whose severe suffering gave way to happy ending

Soon –
…the people were hunted like antelopes and dears
…and bundled to strange lands
…some of their very own trained to be architects of their woes
But they still prayed

They were made to curse their ancestors
…and were preached to be non-resistors
They were made to curse their birthright
…and were made to see all of theirs as not-right
They were made to bow to nothings
…and were scarred to live like nothings
Their lasses branded crass asses
…needed for short relief
…and thrown into grief
They still prayed
…and proceeded to evict the gods from the evil forest
…caring not about their dwelling
As the new masters
…mastered the art of drinking their libations
…and killing many many many of them
…on the ticket of their laws
The people still prayed

Now the gods are gone with their great spirits
…to Odomankomah knows where
As the people still stand on poor stages
…dancing to small gifts
…entertaining bigwigs
Their egos pounded with their pride
…and fed to dogs who act soldiers
…in their check
Yet the prayers intensify
…each day
There is no awakening
…that they murder their gods
…with alien incantations
…which has deluded them into thinking
…shouting prayers are all the hardwork needed
…for one’s own success

As selected few are fed on greed pans
Work for self growth
…sit lean by roadsides
…seen by visitors
…unseen by the people
As poverty carts them through paths
…and streets
…right to the highways

They still pray
…they still turn their ‘awakened’ evils
…and sit by as they are hunted and killed
…their deaths celebrated
As their prayers thank in ironic magnanimity

Prayers still fill the land
…deafening poor ears whose fear
…push them under beds of discomfort
Yet only the burns in the sun intensify
…only the drowning of the rains visit
The air acts gentle
…but spreads unknown illnesses in vengeance
None sees the wrong of the gods
…none wants to notice the sadness of the spirits
As prayers pile on prayers
…in the belief of the murders of the protectors turned devils
…as years pile on years after years
Such a sorry story!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 18, 2019


Like staircases
…they carry hearts with minds
…to the rooms of self realization:
Poor staircases make climbers dizzy
…and pose the danger of caving in
…killing the climbed
…bruising their grounds

Lecturers are neither gods nor lions
…who order and bellow
Feeling like the only keys to bright Zions
Any –
…swimming in the gods description
…is an ignorant bomb
…on the road of knowledge

Lecturers are not bosses
…sowing seeds of dream losses
…in students
…to turn dragons into horses
…to run their wish chores

Lecturers are security men
…who open gates of expert knowledge
…for their followers to explore
As they act shapers
…instead of whippers

Lecturers are like flowing rivers
…their waters of thinking must flow
…with their subjects’
…to let them know the good and bad paths
…of their own thoughts

Lecturers are challenge embracers
…freedom enhancers
…boldness planters
…fairness operators
…with democratic hearts
Their respect farmed by their deeds and honourability
…in the hearts of their audience
Not those with egoistic wings
…flying in ignorance and shabby lecturing
…insisting on their follies as fairness
Blocking their own sanity with their prejudices
Lecturers hold no marks as guns to threaten the lives of the passed
While chasing unreachable dreams
…neglecting their duties
…and using flimsy excuses as their alibis

So put on them fair supervision
Check their wrecks so they can clean their specs
…put them on their toes
To do as they must
So as to kill the growing gross gods
…weeding their effectiveness
…before their subjects
…with lazy hoes
Do so,
That questioners
…fiesty developers
Can go through the road of education
…without tasting death of strong will into graves of subserviency
For that is the yearning of development
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 17, 2019


Claps rap to trap warm wraps
…for your presence
…a celebration for your living
…at your every appearance
Many going miles to grow suns
…on your face
Your mood being the hood
…of all seeing your good
Slaps checking out craps walking
…in maps of your enemies
Yes, you’re the sun at its peak
…being tapped by loved ones
…burning your foes

Your works act magnet
…to trap eyes for your viewing
…giving words to mouths
…for your praise
…giving awe to ears
…in itch for your mention
Planting covetousness in the insecure

Your struggles strangle your climbing angle
Your sweats staining their thirsty pores
Your needs seen as walking bothers
…to close hands with wealth
Some onlookers using you
…as a comic relief on stages of ridicule

Your idea screaming in your dreaming
Your fear holding the reigns of your determination
Most confidants wetting blankets
…few urging a market

It works not that way
It never starts from the shine
…to end with the struggle
When that happens
…it is an odd falling
So start from 0 and normally end at 4
For that is the climb of the hardworking:
…sweat before shine, from scratch to most
…to dig the boast to call the toast
For it is a climb
…not a slide: This life
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 16, 2019


It looks surreal
The bright colours
…of the flowers
…and beautiful butterflies
…are oh so real
From afar
…planting jealousies
…until eyes travel close

There are visible spiders
…hitherto unseen
Waiting to hunt the dancing butterflies
…which also busily steal
…the priced nectar of the flowers
Alien birds hide within
…pecking on the flowers
Air blows its seeds onto distant lands
As worms chew on its strong roots

Hawks hide to hunt wise chickens
…pecking the worms beneath
Wandering cattle disturb its flowing rivers
…stepping on fingers to break promising hands
…working on weeds
…watering the flowers
…and advocating for the use of the dung of the intruding cattle
…to enrich the land they are destroying
As age waits to tell on the failures of the wilting flowers

So yes
…it is a flower garden at its full bloom
…beautiful from afar
…horrible and fearful from within
…and in close watch, described now with the antonyms of perfect
Such a sad state of fate it tastes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 15, 2019


Bags are packed
…with clothes of patience
…undies of curiosity
…shoes of excitement
…armour of compromise
Waiting for your cue
…to board the vehicle leading
…to the airport
…for the begining of our journey to your heart

I am ready to embark
…even if a dog with rabies searches through a scare bark
I am ready to be deafened by your take off
…dizzy with the sky bumps
…taste flight fear of hurdles
Even the fear of a crash won’t trash the flush of my crush
So hurry
…take me to the land of your heart

I need to explore all the caves
…visit your beautiful waterfalls
…and know their sources
I need to know every part of your hidden forest
…to know the most dangerous
…the mildest
…the scarred
…and vulnerable attitudinal pets
…and their needs
So I can prepare their feeds
…should they visit us in physical

I need to go to wish land of your heart
…to study every detail
…in order to plan them perfectly
For I want to spare no strength
…in working smiles to shine the sky of your face
…and moons of satisfaction
…to light your face in the dark
…to lead my happy tours

I need to know your empty space
…to fill them with flutters
I also need to know your shattered parts
…to fix them with positive flattery
I have the perfect glue of admiration
…to stitch all torn parts
So take me
…take me to the land of your heart

If you’re comfortable
…you can sail with me
…to visit your spirit
…and your soul
…to explore your fears
…on the boat of trust
Of course, mine is there for your exploration
…any day

Just know,
…once we decide
…I’ll never let go
…until the spear of death splits
That is how far my thoughts have traveled
So let’s do this
…take a leap
…through hard work
…to blend our hearts
…into a companionable new nation of one
…one that only the knife of death
…can split
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 14, 2019


Our yearning calls for explorations pelagic
As fear hangs surrealism on a wagic
…stick while we hope for magic
…fearing we’ll turn tragic
So we pray for magic to fix the tragic and dispose of the wagic
When the inevitable swoops like a hawk
Always asking why we can’t freeze
…the now into a static

The feelings we’ve so easily gained
…are fear stained
The wings we’ve so blessedly grown
…face fears of being destructively blown
We’re like kites flying a star-like sky
…eyes watching out for our lie
…through a bye
…as we fly
Why is the hope of a never ending die
…cast on a maybe?

The world gets darker with every day
Foods eaten in one life bowl now turning a sharing
…a little taste in this
…a little taste in that
Still, a tasting never ceases
…until we lose our taste
…reaching threats of frets-
…then regrets

Let’s not lose it
…our present pure possibilities
…to the fury of a flawed future through today’s fears
For everything life
…everything in life
…everything around life
…everything beneath life
…everything above life
Is fear stained
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 13, 2019


Check the neck you peck to wreck
…with your beaky specks
…you sheck looking like a steck
…needing a wash in a beck

Throw the stone
…if the mistake bone
…is not a clone
…inherited by every gene
…from the first homo sapien

Abuse the accused with the excuse of fallible confusion
But know fallibility is a huge tree
…shedding leaves to fertilize the soul of every being

There are those caged in lies
…with rage unstaged
Judged by crooked sages
So break no bones of will
…with the whip of your tongue

We trip to be experience equipped
…we’re stripped to notably dipped in remorse
…or thrive on in shameful stubbornness
So why not throw second chance cards
…in multiplicity
…to help save the drowning
…whose mistakes are visible
…compared to yours under your skirts
…and trousers?
This life swirls round and round and round
…with trying times
…which can bring out the worst
…when we’re put to the test
So let care drive your judgement
…on others’ mistake routes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 13, 2019


A twisted tale stales history
Fuelling the dreadful victory
…of a storyless country

A passionate need for relevance
…fruits no reverence
…even eloquence can smoothen not that arrogance

For hard earned glories
…bubble into no sorries
…no matter the lorries
…of lies driven on the stories

In competitions
…the first is named in repetitions
Even in foul play renditions
…of submissions

Let us be not like hawks
…catching success chicks
…of hens whose struggles still provide
…for a whole household

We’re not kɔntua
For ropes of deceit to lift us
…from the success story of a martyr
…to the lies in a mirroring satire

Honour is the birthright of the accomplished
…not strugglers who perished in a race
Those who have ears
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 5, 2019

Edited by Koku Dotse.


We have been on this battlefield
…for too long
Enduring torture through fears
…and hurts and pain
…tasting shameful bites of sand
Today let’s turn savages

Stone down your doubts
…as David stoned down Goliath
…and walk into the gate of confidence
…for a fresh bath of your spirit
…and a fill of can-do
In all your endeavors

Get your knife
…and stab your debts
…twisting it to totally destroy its internal
…until it breathes its last
And becomes fertilizer for your growth

Get your pistol
…and gun down your past
…which has arrested your future
…through cuffs of present opinions
And walk straight to the station of relief
…to clear yourself of all guilt

Get your bomb of strength
…and blast off the chains of your enslavement
…walking into the street of freedom
…with hopeful feet
…and a determined spirit
…to start the growth of yourself

Kill all your enemies of progress
It is only this savagery
That will water progress
…and fertilize your image
…to grow in happiness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 11, 2019


They move
They move like automatic scanners
…to register the front
…and especially the back
No matter the hard hitting bricks
…that prick their dicks
…to prompt a trick
They can’t help it
Such is their wiring

Let the goddess of beauty be in arms
…a demonic spirit
…dressed in dying plantain leaves
…in passing
…will get the quick scan
…blanking seconds into minutes off their time

Let the queen of love be on laps
A shaking behind will get the look
Even if there are known awaited slaps
There is no fear in the look book
Such is the wiring of predators

Perhaps, Odomankomah might have made them
…automatic documentors of our kind
Checking the front and measuring the behind
Mostly thinking so loud about their lustful grind
…and sometimes doubting the artistry
…of the Most High

So look when muscles ring in walks
Enjoy when chiseled-sticks bell their fronts
Take pictures of the best of them
…to build your fantasies
…instead of fighting a lost battle
For those eyes are trained helpless
…to check out all curves and mounds
…shapes and sizes
Whenever and wherever they see warm
…and pliable beings
Yes, such is the wiring
…of eyes of men
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 10, 2019


I Am Erica
Snow blissed but cold hissed
…divided into different earth in the nick of an unpick

I Am Erica
Wearing fate of hate
…in an own turning alien bait
After greedy passersby
…uprooted other rooted
…into savage replants
…knowing not I am compatible
…with their fertility
Time is belling the shift of ownership
…in the ears of their unrested spirits

I Am Erica
A woman who has married many a ruling man
…but yet to taste the touch of a woman
Although fem-fem is now norm
…in my various dorms

I Am Erica
Now ridden by a bully bull
…whose fingers walk the world in folly
…with negligence overriding their intelligence
As frightened hair stare from a Korean candy head

I Am Erica
A divisive diversity cut into many voices
Those with power swallowing
…those with less or none

I Am Erica
I have long tasted supremacy
My head-swelling, fushing down like liberated air
…from a high handed baloon
As Chin Chuns now battle me fair and square

I Am Erica
My reverence waning with my aging
…like tooth after tooth falling out of the lions mouth
…with every turning of years
My sneezing affecting less and less
…of my subjects
…who used to catch cold at my sniffling

I Am Erica
Owned by a dying skin
…owning a rising skin
What will be the fate of my states
…in fair rates
…on future plates?

I Am Erica
Guns at my beck and call
…bombs on my trail
…drugs burning my reasoning
…into avoidable shootings
Boosting careers in imprisonment

I Am Erica
The ever greatest!
The ever beautiful!
The ever magnanimous!
Ever the Knightess
With cancerous intestines
…threatening a tell on my body
…with every second time travels
I still wear awesome
…in eyes of many?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 9, 2019


Trauma is like stroke
It strikes at once
…but heals
…if it will
…like a star famished conceited bride walking down the aisle
Hanging breaths with the rope of anxiety

A brush of hardwork
A clash of fear
A rush of impatience
A flush of hope
A gush of anticipation
A hush of pessimism
A push of will
…are all options served
…with multiplicity of choices
When trauma is on the seat of a body

For it sits not only on the body
…but footmats the spirit
…and spits on the soul
Writing on their visible boards
…fright of the unknown

An overcomer climbs to gain its worship
…and is awarded with a badge of strength
An overcome turns sheep
…hanged and dragged to the abattoir of failure
…beheaded by a knife of shame
…as pity watches with happy enemies

Varied traumatic hits
…with its varied wins
…create a fearsome spirit
…and a soul worthy of reverence
So know the foe
…called trauma
…and fight it squarely
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 8, 2019


Sometimes truth lies in deep forests of lies
…calling great hunters
…for their find
Praying voices of lions of deception
…scare not rightful hands
…in their fetch

Sometimes truth hovers
…around lies like a bothersome fly
…wishing to be seen or heard
…but mostly drown in power frowns
As raindrops drown in rivers

Sometimes truth sits and stares
…daring the fair in a sensitive chair
Flanked by fears so ferocious
…with bullets in hands of bullies
Causing eyes to concoct lies
…in their cover

It is sad that in my realm
…truth mostly walks its talks
…preceeded by whirlwinds of lies
…which throw sands in eyes
Making lies our focus
…as truth loses its identity
…in total blindness
This is our sadness in madness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 7, 2019


When a big tree with strong branches
…and healthy leaves
The earth shakes in fear and sadness
…not because of the weight and bruise
But in mourning for the many beaks
…the many mouths
…the many buttocks
Who have been stripped off their benefactor
…with all her healing touches
The more we wail
…the clearer our reason of loss
Damirifa due Maame Morrison!

As we mourn your loss
…we know your horn of felicitations blow wild in the yonder world
…leading your martyred spirit back home
…birthing your immortal soul here
…here- where blacks lack less because of your crack
…on unreasonable reasoning so dark
To reach parked consciences
…backed into dark quarters of humanity
Ayekoo our Dear Dear Blessed Beloved
…turned Saint in love

When humanity suffered a coma
…and blacks suffered the trauma
…of the inhumane hammer
…nailing them onto woods of animals
Pairing prized ebonies with monkeys
…making them donkeys
…and locking them in murderous rooms of slavery
…with no known keys
You were one great manna
…which fell amidst the non-empathetic hunger struggle
…and told the world with words
…which painted clearer pictures than colours
…of the poison of cruelty
…dressed in slavery
…overlooked by supremacists
…as it consumed souls with its gluttony

You’re one of the topmost Iron ladies
…who wielded a real sword
…in ink
You’ll forever be that beautiful brain
…who fought on the field of slavery
…and conquered more soldiers of hate
…than many pious soldiers with great ammunition could
Only with your words

Goddess of literacy!
Sun of fairness!
Moon of clearer perspectives!
Ɔbaa brane a wo fata nsamerane!
The woman with More Reason well parcelled as Morrison
Get your pampered rest
…as we continue your noble quest
You did do more than your best
…and deserve a fulfilling crest
…worthier than your imagination could fetch

Nnaase o!
Akpe o!
Oyiwaladɔɔn for the eighty eight years of living which will last through all lifetimes!
Thank you warrior extraordinaire!
For all you were
For all you’ve been
For all you achieved
For all your wealth of knowledge
…which will protect humanity for all lifetimes
Damirifa due
…due due ne amanehunu!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 6, 2019
In honour of Toni Morrison (February 18, 1931 – August 5, 2019)

Photo Credit: Google Pics


There are many shiny glasses
…showing me in cool classes
Acting editors of my reality
Ably aided by clothes of my smiles
But be not fooled

I am a garden
…a garden with varying tenders
…who left dents
…which their followers rent to further dent
…and soon register their can’ts
…leaving close watchers with swearing shan’ts

My seed of trust has been brutally butchered
…like the meat of a ruthless butcher
…working in a tight deadline
…killing its germination prowess

The new shoot of my care
…was chewed by an ungrateful goat
…which strayed in
…when my fence of defence was broken down
…by a mischievous bull

The maize of tenderness
…which grew to a level
…has been pushed down by mean winds
…its roots almost destroyed
…by a murderous rain
Leaving it gasping for breath

The tree of my love
…has not fruited
…since vultures developed taste for them
…and feasted till all leaves and flowers
…were completely chewed
When they wanted to upgrade
…from scavenging
Should I mention the many farmers
…who cut deep its vital branches
…in the name of parcelled greed called pruning?
Funny, they complained of me not providing shade

So unless you’re a skilled farmer
…do not attempt my venture
For bees of bitterness have built their homes
…at all the comfort zones
…barely providing honey
…and feeding on even legs
…who just pass by

You’ll have to be a rainmaker
…a sun moderator
…and an air host
To be able to recover anything
…from my farm
The only side to my attraction
…is the fertile land
…covered by all the destruction of thorns
…with the hovering beastly bees
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 6, 2019


Immaturity is poison
…to reason
Inexperience is an axe
…which cuts the tree called Relax
…forcing a fretting failing tax
So greens must grow their buds into queens
…to up their knowledge genes
…in order to clear their eyes to see
…differences between noble frees
…and unworthy fleas
…in the garden of choice
After training their hearts to walk side by side
…with their heads

Every woman must taste a single 30
…with a notable accomplishment
…blowing a rating indicating a standard
…before approach

Every woman must taste a single 30
…with a worthy aura
This is the sphere where
…she wears the skin of a boss
…throwing many in worded loss
…at the thought of her approach
She has no rush
…even as chasers run
…like best athletes onto her compound
…clashing in crushing
…with different approaches and reactions
…acting comedy on her free screen

Her only problem will be daydreaming
…in perfect scenes
…as to the where and when and how
…her knight will grace her night
…in a perfect rite
Because even in lonely haunts, seeds can be bought
…or gotten in free lots
…from the best of choices
…if she chooses to plant in a sole proprietary farming
She sleeps when she wants
…wakes when she wants
…eats what she wants
…buys whatever she likes
…with no one demanding a proposal
…for every detail
Oh just taste a single 30
…in self accomplished womanity

This is where she drives her independence
…like a V8
…attracting jealousies masked in many shades
…without a care
…knowing they have no warrant to cause her arrest
…as she drives on the road of peace
…glowing tastefully as wine does with age
As she receives applications

She needs to see the tears from some eyes
…whose knees bend in a begging
She needs to watch as some mouths
…congratulate themselves
…after their ears hear their shaky proposals
…to her
She needs to see the intimidated
…fidgeting to draw a plan
…to her understand
She needs to see the lowest souls
…set traps
…to her attention catch
The jokers will of course
…play the sun setting card
…in hope of arresting her with self pity
…and fear of loneliness
But her perceptiveness sees through the end
…of their plans
The bitter will bring on the bitch card
But the ditches such bitches fall into
…include the peaceful riches that stitch
…their itches into dream-like wishes
Trust me –
…every woman must taste a single 30

Every woman must taste this single 30
…lying on a bed of comfort
…bathing in a tub of freedom
…dining at the table of open mindedness
Her sparkling enchantment
…affording her a bite of appealing fruits
…without a charge of commitment
…with fantastic expectations
While watching the Pick Me channel
If she likes
…she can even choose a toy
…as cast in her hobby play

It is the best gift of nature
…to a flower at its blooming apex
For her nectar is sweetest
…and well filled
…and oh so protected
…but well scented
And needs nothing less than the best bird
…for its partnering harvest
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 5, 2019


There was a lamp
…which was made to stamp
…the moral directions of man
It worked well under a ban

This lamp gained roots
…after tasting negative boots
And upgraded into electricity
…seeking to brighten many a city
…but now sells them pity
…through flawed supremacentric equity

It drains, from heads, waters of discernment
…by twisting the initial commandments
Leaving beneficiaries lost
…at their own cost

It turns its shine off in dark sins
…giving some followers bold bins
…of shamelessness even when day wakes
…celebrating with extravagant cakes
…bought from the sweats they rake
…off the naive who believe the road to take
…has shines they keep
…under their dubious beep

Now they have hidden the right poles
And are murdering tiring soles
…which trip on stones
…and break their bones
…of piety
…knowing not their light workers have turned many a deity
Using high voltage
…to their own advantage

Their dum has given wings to immorality
…which dresses like morality
And parades in the day
…arresting those with something to say
…with spiritual fears
…and sometimes traditional spears
…hidden in their covered rears

How boldness has climbed a tree
…in all that horrendous be
Beats my imagination
Today, Mathew marks John to kill
…as Luke looks on
Today Joshua judges Ruth
…at Ho sees to Haba cook

A day will come
Hate will be the Psalm
Due will be thrown into an enemy
Gen will walk with nemesis
Jee will sue in stress
And Mo will harm through meds

A day will come
Lamentations will lead to revelations of doom
…and water the land
…through the very light with wires believed
…to lead straight to a being
…beyond the sky
If mouths continuously close
…to its electrocution of greed
…and barbaric need of opposing their appointer
…in the guise of His clothes

A day will come
…the little left commune vinculum in humanity
…will be broken
…none will be spared the burn
…in the hell fires of religion
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 4, 2019


Sometimes there are many winds
…that pluck all our leaves of confidence
…break the branches of our support
…and leave us empty of pride
At the centre stage of the sun

…things that hit us
…can take the sound
…out of the throat of a singer
…and drain all words
…out of the ink of a writer
They can be as severe
…as clearing the thinking tools of philosophers
…and as intense
…as uprooting our will to live
Yes, it can be as serious
…as a murderous tractor
…knocking out your hopeful factor

On all hurtful seas
…with their angry boats
…and chasing sharks of taunts
Say nay
…to decay
…that stray
…into your day
Rather lift a yay
…in hope of a bright ray
Even clouds tire
…when they stay too long
…on the face of skies
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 3, 2019


For those who raise their rods
…as Moses did
…to part the red sea on their best halves
…and just walk through
…caring not about the delicate grounds
…they stump on
…going forth and back
…until they shed their semenic enemies
…caring not about the beautiful rains never unshed
You’re horrible hate harvesters
…in your beautiful human farms

How can you not pray
…by weeding stress and duress
…calling seeds of care to grow
…on skins you’ll wear?
How can you not work their rains
…to bless your digging
…with moisture?
How can you not be a fence
…to hold onto your beautiful farms
…after your planting?

A good farmer harvests great yields of respect
…and becomes the precious star
…of his farm

This is an advice from Orgas’ Mic
…to all forceless farmers
…facing frights of chaotic homes
…neglecting good play in the fore
…and knowing not why they harvest defeat
…in their farms of love
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2, 2019


There is a rainbow of cheer
In every noble thought
There is a golden line so rare
In every impactful lot
So work your vision
Through a thorough mission
With noble precision
For greed will lead to unfavorable collision
Through to shameful derision
Never before envisioned

If you take out the comfort you perceive
From the vision you wish to achieve
You will clearly see the path of success
…and follow to the road of achievement
Right to the stage of celebration
This will lead to an elevation
…worthy of ovation
A great thought
…is the nisus of positive impacts

Working heads need no deep carvings
…to see the writings on workable walls
…of success
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 1, 2019


It starts in the enclosed space of a mouth
…like stolen food munched by a skilled thief
Then it passes through the meandering contours of the oesophagus
…where ready way side ears wait with their ready mouths
…and ready plates calling for a selling pan
They follow in quadrupling folds
…by the time it reaches the first sphincter
…each grabbing a part to happily stain

The widening audiences
…embellish with gastric juices of added untruths
By the time it passes through the duodenum
…and mixes with the digestive enzymes of inducing anger
…from the pancreas
Sour bile will fry it into stew with added shocks of disgust
In preparation of your dégringolade

The good in your mould would be absorbed
…from it by the liver
…by the time it reaches the large intestine
And serve you through the rectum
…at the full glare of eyes you revere
Making you dine with noisy flies
Which will spare nothing to inform all others
…about their new addition

Like a surrounded soldier on a battlefield
…it takes courage to stand
…let alone lift your head
…to shoot your shame
…to maintain your dignity
That it is how it is
…a bad rumour
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 31, 2019


It must not happen again:
The barbaric facts
…of humans turning monsters
…to treat other humans like animals
…for their selfish mortal desires

It must not happen again
…the trapping and hunting
The catching the whipping
The painful transplanting and torturing
…overworking and murdering
It must NOT
It must NEVER happen again

It must not happen again
We must make sure of it
We –
…those who have gained roots outside our fence
…and those whose pain have watered their lives within
Like kɔtɔkɔ –
…we must rise in our numbers to combact
…the poisonous infection of drugs
…murder the degrading branding of crimes
…wash off the stunting appeal of laziness
…and switch on the light of hope
On our yesters’ stolen
While driving out the doom of corruption within our mother fence

We must wipe out the characteristics
…of diasporean intimidation
And the Afri self righteousness
Which clash to alienate one from the other
Blocking hugs and togetherness
For a vice versaring benefit

For a body cannot run from its shadow
And no matter the dark that hides a shadow
It follows its body no matter its flight
Remembrance must only be a tap for hard work
…and not hatred
For hatred is like a full time job
…which can consume the time of progress

We must bond in a fondness
That will fan our ancestral worries to wonders
We have to hold hands of our hearts
…and yoke words of our mouths
To light our many talents
For we are fire and fuel
None lights without the other
We are skies, suns and moons
…we will always need each other to shine
…on this here earth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 30, 2019
Inspired by Mr. Andrew’s Kuusiemeh


Friction fires fights among friends
…and fuels feuds
Fickle fronts fume feeble fits
Freeze friction
Free feelings
…in friendly favours
For forces that function
…feel fevers of fiery-clashes

Defrost fury
…in a delightful hurry
Ditching sorry
…in dining worry
Drawing dears into darling dwellings
For loving swellings

Feed no fridge your feelings
…to face your fears
Write no rights
…to work your ways
Tongue and teeth
…are like trading twins
A bite, a breaking
…sell no abandoning
So thaw angst
…before it burst
…into destructing dumps
For immediate release
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 29, 2019


I’ve walked through the gates of hell
Without even a wailing well
Life, like a wicked trader, did me needs sell
In a struggling shell
Always rising through the fell
Heeding determination’s bell
To think I’ve lived to this tale tell…

Who am I to say
I’ve lived to dues on end pay
Before seeing this ray
…this day?
None builds it in a day-
…life’s notable hay

Now I fill my little purse
Beating the curse
…of tasting the hearse
…before my second but one less
…of decades mess
I am playing well life’s chess

I have tasted different rages
…felt fears on many struggling pages
…cried in cringing cages
Been shamed on sorrowful stages
…told off by stalking sages
Living on next to naught wages

There was a time I nowhere fitted
There was a time I many things quitted
There was a time I tasted pits
…so dark that they wrecked my wits
I have felt torn in bits
And been asked, in high places, for permission chits

Now I am here
A place with listening ears
A space with less fears
Having cried most of my tears
In mass arrears

So live
…live through it all
…the rise through the fall
Till the cheers!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©July 28, 2019


Keep what you can tend to
…not what will turn you into a ball of madness
Don’t keep a zoo
…if you can’t do the do
…of caging the raging
…or killing the murdering

Your chin is like a forest
Where many little animals pop to live
Always hunting your skin
Hoping other skins touch to give
…if you keep a beard

So you need a bathing pesticide
…morn for day
…evening till dawn
To drive bold scents from the highway of your face
You need a potent detergent
To kill the unseen livers
…travelling through Jaws and nose
…eyes and ears to head
…chest to waist
…off you

You need a trimming protector
To keep your style and beliefs
…attractive and tidy
All fear epidemic forests
None explores an ebola zone in self love
Burn or weed if you can’t neatness feed
None was born with a beard
…death without it is no crime
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 27, 2019


Mother in law
Please be no monster in loathing
…scaring an innocent as cats scare mice
Mother in law
…be no bore
Your words cut deep into sores
Breaking the decorous bones of my jaws
Your claws in paws defile the law
…in your name’s core

Mother in law
…a first love loves a love from the strange
…to gift her seats of comfort
…to build a care umbrella
…to protect the centre of attraction
She is like the air in the heat of friction
…the heat in the cold of restriction
…making sure 1+1 remains one
…clearing distracting afflictions

So don’t be a tigress
…turning a beautiful home into a jungle
…chasing nothings into flaws
…and digging in with your claws
It is an abomination
…for a man to find pleasure shelter
…in a hole which pushed him to life
…night after day and before dawn

Wilting flowers need to share their sunshine
…and rains and air
For the blooming to beautifully brighten
…to leave a mark of love
…and a cycle of giving
…watering love after love
…in a generational heritage
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 26, 2019


The way to rightness
…is full of sharp stones of hurts
…thorns of accusations
…broken glasses of queerness
…sharp nails of castigations
…haunting aura of loneliness
Its end is hell with fires of unbending tags

It could come with slaps of annoyance
…spittle of “the norm”
…urine showers of conceited name calling
…poverty’s imprisonment
…prestige’s banishment
With friendships turning bullets
…to shoot through gun relatives

The road to right deeds
…gifts hunger of weirdness
…thirst of shame
…baggage of tiredness
…with clothes of doubts
In bee stings of uncertainties

Why choose this hard road?
Why put this fragile and tired body
…through this torture?
Humans are but replaceable mortals
…on this immortal land
This immortal land whose fingernails of change
…can be cut
…but will grow back long before rot touches a fallen body
…beneath the skirt of the earth
I guess a clean conscience is worthy
…compared to all the fears associated with fetching right waters into right barrels
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 25, 2019


As you lead
…your flock to feed
And they follow
…through roads vast and narrow
Do you see their flesh as meat?
Do you think them food?

They see only you
…and your moving steps
You’re their light
…their trusted guard
You’re their lord
…their hope restored
Still do you see
…them as your feeds?

They will eat
…even your poisoned food
…without a question
…or a drop of doubt
They will fight your fearsome battles
…and will kill
…in your humble name
You’re their emotional sky
…and a king so high
Still do you see
…them as your food?

I so stand
…in questioning pity
But they don’t know
…or seem to care
I so see
…the tragic lead
But they live oblivious
…to the dangerous threats
…of your marked abbatoir

Why do I feel
…like your poor cattle
As I helplessly live
…in a chaotic lead?
Why do I tear up
…like a sad sad sky
As I see you relate
…to your subjective crew?
I guess I feel like a cow
…among the cattle of citizens
As we are led by political and religious herdsmen
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 24, 2019


Once a jackal traveled to the land of lions
…in search of secrets which made them strong
…because its family continuously complained
…about the shame of scavenging
…and the grossness of vomit meals

Knowing it is unwanted in the lions’ den
The jackal hid in their nearby bushes
…but time did not travel far
…before it was caught
…and like a strange meal
…brought before the lion king to be caged
The first lesson sinking in the fear stricken mind of the jackal

The lions sat together
…with their lionesses
…who were the best hunters
…and were so noted
Each day saw a strict routine
Day as night for rest
Night as day for hunting
They never missed
…they never complained
…they never lied to skip, rain or storms
…they never fought on whose trip
The second lesson fell into the mind of the jackal

Whenever there was a sign of a stranger
They all came together to bell the danger
And worked like bulls to protect their territory
Marking none out for death
After a conquer
…they all celebrated and cheered
Another lesson rained in the heart of the jackal
…strong defence

A lion got wounded
…and was brought in the den
All brought bits and pieces
…to feed the unfortunate
…tending to it, looking for herbs that worked
…until its fit
Writing bold lessons
…loyalty and intelligence

They caged some of their hunt
…like the proverbial ant
…and trained their cubs
…like their tomorrows existed not
…they planned their territorial hunts
…and worked through their dangers
…before their hunts
The jackal saw many lessons
…future planning
…preparing young as tomorrow’s old
…tacticianism before practicality

In the rain
…their caves never broke in
…in their play
…their practice never slowed
…a lesson of strong foundation
…and resilience

The jackal was seen as gross
…and was spared to go after vomiting and eating
Its family listened to all it had seen
…and learned
But were never ready to wake to work
…they pointed at each other for the start of change
…always looking out for a ready kill
…they continously fed their young their vomit
…and ate the rest when their young got satisfied
They were quick to push their own
…to be eaten by their gluttony, their corruption and their fears
…just to be safe
And their territory was never safe
…dangerous animals visited for their kills

Till this day
The nation of jackals live on carcasses
…of the strong lions
…always crying for a future strong
…while sleeping on their strengths
…fingers of blame pointing at each other
…eyes of jealousy forcing legs to run into living
…within beasts for crumbs of carcasses
This is the story of unlearned lessons
…breathing in tears of dying
…into nonexistence
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 23, 2019


Strain to gain
…or main to reign
…chain to cane
…drain to pain
There is a rain called karma
It holds a hellish hammer
It hits and hears no “Mama”
And pities none’s sad murmur
Know the end of a con is vain
…it is not like gold which refines to shine
…it is like food eaten into diarrhea-like defecation
Unpleasantness is its clothing
…is its make-up
…is its cologne
And regret
…is its self lashing whip
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 22, 2019


The God in a bird
…is its singing
…its planting
…and its flying
The God in a dog
…is its servitude
…its protection
…and to some, its companionship
The God in fowls
…is blessings of bells of waking
…lessons of care of chicks
…and still, their delicious meat
The God in pigs
…is the lesson of love even in the gross
…the taste of heaven in filth
…and happiness in being loathed for dirt baths
God in the sun
…is its light
…its rising and setting
…its heat
God in the moon
…is its ability to conquer darkness
…lead the dark-blinded
…and rule the sky
God in beautiful flowers
…is their colour
…their nectar and fragrance
…their lessons of transiency
God is in every piece of nature

God is the smile
…which can light a soul
God is the feed of needs
…of one being by another
God is the hand of help
…for every struggling spirit
God is words of comfort
…for all weary souls
God is the seed of trust
…for those in self doubts
God is the healing hugs
…for every sad body
God is the pathfinder
…for the roaming lost
God lives in our goodness
…and our every effort of right
…even in the lesson of our wrongs

God is the cheer in every queer
God is the dear in every hear
God is the satisfaction in every food
…the quench-thirst in every cup of water
She is the life in all air
God is the fruit on every tree
She is the shade in every made
God is the take in every stake
The peace in every leisure
That is the God in nature
Not the tricksters on spree
…dancing to possessions
…on Satanic bonded magic flawing beautiful traditions
…their souls owned by their follies
…as they act like immortals with their breakable bodies
…killing the most high with crimes extreme

By all means
…worship God
…the real God
Not any hiding in His counterfeit clothes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 21, 2019


There is everything beautiful
…about a seed
…blown harshly from its mother tree
…luckily into the loam of stardom
And fruiting in abundance
…with capabilities of traveling back
…to help transform
…and feed the culture of its mother roots
…to the world
Beyonce has blown us beyond say

There is everything loveable
…about the seed forgetting all torture
…the history of hatred
…the choice of vengeance
…and existing differences
To help build her broken roots
Beyonce has blown us beyond say

She is now a moon
…travelling the sky with many stars
…on a beautiful road
…blessing all heads in turn
She is like a beautiful nightingale
…who has found the choir of her motherland
…leading as a mistress
And blessing the world with their soothing voices
Oh Beyonce has blown us beyond say!

If all her seeds will toe her line
…and bless their stages with Africa’s fine
No continent will dare to touch the shine
…out of the progress of the stages of Ebonies
If all the stars will look back home
…and build a part to repair the loss
…of their foundations’ so broken loose
…by years of cruelty now smoothening out
None can parraral the growth of Ebonies
…on development stages
We need more Akons
…and many Beyonces
To arch us on
…and take us beyond say

For we will rise above our sinking
…and will paddle on our divided thinking
To merge into flourishing
Conquering bitterness
…and intimidation
To bring smiles to our rolling ancestors
…whose mourning still shine
…in our struggling whine
For we’re one and the same people
…scattered to own the world
…by successful replants all over
As time travels
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 20, 2019


All that far far call
…from our rich filled hall
…is what causes our fall
…as others stand tall
All the come go quality whores
…which are rooted at our shores
…eating deep into our own talents’ core
…is what is giving us incompetent chores

Why a Sikaman boss
…is made a horse
…ridden by disrespect
…paying for familiarity
…knocks the light out of my sun

Many on the land
…climb ladders and ladders of knowledge
…reach qualification’s dock
…but like cob webs
…are swept off lists
…and replaced with even nkyɛnkyɛmas from yonder spheres
…because nature’s natural colour difference
…make scraps from afar more attractive
…than prized minerals from near

We need to plug our senses
…into a wisdom socket
To know where we stand
…and how to band
…in order to put a hand on hand
…to rise from our fall into a stand
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 19, 2019


Sugar is the home of sweets
And calls many feet
…at a sight

It is like a magnetic attraction
It get many eye fame
…leg fences
…hand worships
…and tongue adoration
Though too much of it
…can take stomachs to schools of discomfort
Sugar never lacks ant

That is why I laugh like a maniac
Seeing you clinging to that sugar
…already in a bought container
…with a legitimate spoon

By all means lick the outskirts
The lid seems perfectly tight
…and will not let you in
…without a crash
So madam
…your happy harm
…which is a sham
…in your scam
…will definitely turn stray bullet to hit you
…at your sugaring road side
And daddy will not be in a hurry
…to turn surgeon in your save
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 18, 2019


There is nothing beautiful on a being
…like clothes of confidence
…in jewelry of humility
…and shoes of ambition

Low confidence in a self
…is poison
…which when left for long
…can kill opportunities
…and dreams

There is no human flaw
…without a brandable window
Self doubt is like bile around liver
…it has its responsibilities
…of balancing passions in ambitions
…and pointing to successful yous
…for your learning zooms

So wear it
…your clothes of confidence
Enhance it
…with jewelry of humilty
…add some cologne of smiles
And face each day
…with its attraction
Pulling awesomeness to you
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 17, 2019


The fascination of Ghanaians in watching the Mexican, South Korean, and Indian soaps has gone from ridiculous to worry. It is laughable to see a country once colonised, in the process of development, and still bemoaning the loss of most of our cultural values sink so low, aided and abetted by the media which has decided to break instead of make up for our cultural loss. The movie industry is a very powerful tool in every country. It is the tool used to showcase a country’s culture, which include values, morals, language, fashion, beliefs,  beauty, to mention but few. Ghanaians however, have chosen other country’s culture over ours, stifling the Ghana Movie Industry. 

In today’s Ghana, hardly will you get a television station showcasing only one of these soaps, some run as many as four at a time and during prime time too.

The Ghana I grew to know was a place where decency was revered. It was an abomination to see couples kissing in public, married or not, let alone wearing inappropriate clothes in the name of fashion.

Now what do we see? Not only do women copy what they see through these telenovelas exhibiting their follies in the name of love, they also inculcate into their minds the low morals carried by these soaps. Now ridiculous happenings like two sisters fighting over a man, a father and son killing each other because of a woman, people loving their roles as antagonists caring less about what society considers ill, rule. I believe the most dehumanizing aspect is that people sit, with very prominent people who serve as role models to discuss these soaps. And oh the killer; some stations even translate into the local Akan language infusing our cities and locally made products into them in their bid for advertisement. What are we doing to our country? 

Why will a Ghanaian help another Ghanaian to see himself or herself in a white frame? The very frame whose major population considers us inferior? And oh sometimes, the hyperbolic language translations and the pronunciation errors  pollute students whose parents can’t control them because of the fact that the soaps are everywhere. 

I know the media is a huge factor and may not help out in stopping this menace seen as a money making venture for broadcasting corporations, but in putting a stop to this, the cost involved in watching these things online will make it decrease and with time, the generation polluted will fade out. 

I believe this is a national manipulation which fester on the needs of the lonely and fantasies of illiterates. I know some do have moral lessons but their way of living is different from our ways and this further deteriorates the erosion of our culture. Why do we still kick against homosexuality when we allow such movies on our national screens? Do we not know that homosexuality rules in Mexican soaps and sometimes South Korean ones? Some attitudes and way of life are picked from movies, a fact.

It takes a radical and brave hearted to put a stop to something that has already become the norm, but I believe if investors and the government come together to encourage movie makers to come up with series that will not be based on insults and horrific follies, and they come out like Shirley Frimpong Manson’s Adam Apples, Ghanaians will fully embrace and lift our flag higher on the international market. Loving everyone’s but ours is the worst form of slavery. A canker only the media can spearhead to move this nation forward.


The leaves walked from Tamale
…to Wamale
Shiiii, zzziiiiii, shiiii, zziiiiii
…like haunting ghosts in humming hymns

The leaves walked from Tamale
…to Wamale
…happily crying from tiredness and imprisoned hard labour

The leaves living like locusts in loss
…a beautiful sight for angels
…who have forgotten their God’s commandments
Billions of tears are carried in sacks of fears
…watering the grounds for hovering hounds
Suns and rains and harms and drains
…in worker droughts and famine
The leaves walked from Tamale to Wamale
…then Wamale to Tamale
…Sule sees the unending journey
…but keeps working
…knowing closed mouth means hopelessness
…till homegoing
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 14, 2019


The trick stands out in our electricity
The harm is boldened
…in our preferred pharmacy
The ligi, with its silent lɔgɔ, shines out
…in our religion
The cat in our education
…only purrs to manipulations
The con in our economy acts star
…on our impoverished stage
The fence in our defence
…has insecured securities
…who allow all our fears easy passes
As the polls in our politics
…use their cables
…to wire them all

Why do we keep the whips in our voices
…when our needs are sacked from our choices?
Why do we bark without biting
…when our teeth are made for protection?
Why do we easily empty memories
…when victimizers become bold
…with their every victory?
Why do we act indifferent
…when the axes in our taxes
…continue to chop off our trees of comfort?

It is time to tire toes
…of our thumb-sents turned foes
It is time to keep wake
…so none our development coffers rake
We are in the middle of the change we need
…and its devils in pampering
Let’s cut them down
…and battle through to change
To be changemakers
…for our coming young
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 15, 2019


I stabbed my fears
…and murdered my weaknesses
I suffocated my ambitions
…and poisoned my dreams
…clutching care like fresh eggs
…all to hold your life
That is how much I loved you

I climbed arrogance
…with the sword of insistence
I swam in pity
…with hands of determination
I flew in abnormalities
…on rumours of witchcraft
I trained like a soldier
…and buried all tiredness
Just to keep your life
That is how much I loved you!

When I thought of the culture
…which called many a vulture
…for your living structure
…because of your ill stature
I smoked weed of defiance
…killing all wicked thoughts around you
…with guns of law
…and emotions of common sense
That is how much I loved you

I never thought
…for a brief day
That you’d be lost
…and I’d stay
I never envisioned
…for a brief second
That you’d be gone
…and I’d be here
I am now like a can
…with a fountain drained of tears
…in bright bright clothes
I’m now like a lost lioness
…in a warrior zone
…without claws
…without teeth

Time is burying your memories in dusts of forgetfulness
…but a little air of rememberance
…dusts the pain and hurts clean
…with your giggles echoing sorrows
…in caves of loss
You’ll forever remain my cross of loss!
You’ll forever remain my emotions’ boss!
You’ll forever be that boy at the peak of my love
…one I spared no sweat to dig flutters
…at his sight!
For you made me
…and broke me
…and killed me
…and planted me
Only for me to germinate into newness
…your absence living in my roots
…never to part
…never ever to be forgotten
Aduse-Poku Ahwinie!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 14, 2019
In memory of my Kwadjo Opoku (Sept. 5, 2011 – Dec. 10, 2018)


Harriet has heaped hits
…from her husband
…into houses of hurts
Her hostile home
…humming hopelessness
…in her haunted hawking heart

How hollow is her hugless heart?
How harmed is her hustling head?
Holler Harriet to hail her hobbles
…to let us heckle her horrible husband
…who has hijacked her happiness and is
…howling hysterically like a hurricanic horse

Hurts are no heritage
There is hired help
…in here’s honour harvest
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 13, 2019


She says “shush”
…when her side swerves
…the best’s serve
And claims a marked miss
…after her heart sinks in defeat

He hisses a diss
…if his target bounces to another
…in an obvious miss
Eyes see the shudder
…but only an insensitive chameleon
…hits hard a hurt in loss

It is a murderous fountain
…of tears
…from soul to spirit and shielded body
…in a cycle of time’s bridal walk
…when you miss a hit
It is a painful spat of insults
…from a doomed hurt place
…like an unfair cane sore in a salty rain
…when you hit a miss

If you hunt a game
…and end with empty hands
…you surely pamper your ego
…with “stinky animal!”
But you know
…and I know
They know
…the burning po po po pos
…gunning your heart
…in echoes of disappointment
…shaming you in a merry go round
…of loss in a mourning cave
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 12, 2019


The mind is a fertile land
…in the head of every being
Plant weeds of hurts
…and reap seeds of hatred
…with its shadow of cruelty
…and spirit of harm
Plant loving flowers with caring fragrance
…and harvest nectar of faith
…scent of love
…beauty of tenderness
…colours of trust
…thorns of care
…providing fences for your safety

The mind is a most fertile land
Plant seeds of hurts
…and like false yams
…harvest a drum full of hatred
…with roots that never really die out
Plant seeds of love
…and harvest a drum full in return
Birds of circulation peck on each
…buying for you hatred
…or love in others

Like a skilled farmer
…looking forward to a bountiful harvest
…which will feed nations
Have the tool of care
…in selecting seeds for planting
…in the farm of all minds
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 11, 2019


You’re a God
…lost in gods
…now living in huge mansions
…looking down on the poor

You’re a God
…lost in waters
…turned clouds
…which only fall on roofs of the wealthy

You’re a God
…lost in soil
…gifting your fertility to hostile harems of cheats
…shaming the good

You’re a God
…who has lost his songs
…in tongues of the innocent
…leaving the noise of deceit to roam wild

You’re a God
…who has lost his sword for the wicked
…and replaced it with a sword
…aiming at the pious
…your wind slapping goodness at your order

You’re a God with blames
…from atrocious lies to sad sad cries
…ha, desecrating duping to unfair deaths

You’re a God whose conscience needs a trial
Your love needing a revival
For your mirrors lie in lies
Framing your monstrosity as mercy
…making your loyals fall from royals
…into robes of servants
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 10, 2019


If I wanted your game
I would have more than that
…in less than the sweat of your hunt
If I wanted your game
…the game you so vilely parade
…trying so hard to cover the charade
…with my taunting,
I would never break so much as a sweat
…in fencing me with many
…better in parade
So hide your hideous finger
…wearing your tight finger cuffs

I know of your broken bed
…and your feelings’ death
I see the cracks on your mouth
…from the bad conversations gone south
I know the drought in your pocket
…because of the glutton in your socket
I know the fear in your heart
…because of the pressure from your prize
Interesting how great beads
…silently grace noble waists
…as those made by Chinese children in experimentation
…call even the dead
…to witness their walk taking
So be modest in flashing your finger cuffs

Like vultures without houses
…beaten by telling rains
Your problems are tattoed in your meanness
So cry out
…for once cry out and free your soul
…from the dark it hides
…pulling walls to shade the bright
…walls which annoy even angels sent to work solo
…on this twisted earth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 9, 2019


Your hop
…from down to top
Scratching itches in ditches
…pounding needs of hungry beads
…forcing paths in innocent deserts
Leaving no skirt towns
…trouser cities
…knicker corners
…and even jumpsuit capitals
Is a piling crime which will definitely meet
…its regret cop
…in a troubled future

You pick the best gems and flush
…them down ghostly gutters
You get angels and pump them with demonic hurts
…always soiling the pious into a coiling
I hope you know time’s footsteps are without
…remote control?

You are like a room full of grains that
…wandering peacocks come to peck
……and leave like wind carried leaves
…even those like Mahama’s Guinea fowls
……who swallowed millions
……and embarked on a one way flight to Burkina
…….have pieces of you
To your thankful thrills

There will come a time
…your horn trap will only stop chaff
You’ll then wish time had a turning-back steering
But that lateness in your future
…is a bond you’re signing now
…with your wasteful chase
…and irresponsible craze
And that future will be when your Billy will turns silly
…even in your own remembering
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 8, 2019