Men who cry over constipation
But look down on life pots
As unfit kings do their dirty subjects
You are like lost pigs in poisonous filth

Men who weep over constipation
Sleeping with their rear worshipping the sky
Begging air for some cool relief
Yet thinking they have power over life’s links of continuity
Are like cowards hiding at the sight of cats
While bullying lionesses in societal handcuffs
Isn’t it funny?

Men who wail over little rear tearing
Yet act demigods over the gates of generations
Are like naught who seek to be bought
With the currency of disgust
Tiredly earned through sweats of anger

Try it
Try cutting your anuses with twelve blades at once
Try it!
Try cutting your abdomen slowly
With ten blades at once for at least hours of eight
Just try it!
Try overeating for days of three and carrying the load
With no relief medications
Those are but leniency in the nine moons travel
So learn to respect
Yes, learn to respect
At least the pot that blasted
To push you here
And its clone-like family
For it gave you everything you enjoy here
Here –
…where you disgustingly reign
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 26, 2019


I know no foe
I don’t hate sow
I show no arrow in my bow
Until I am unfairly asked to kowtow

If you carry no hatred
In the inheritance bowl of your ancestry
Where stones of ethnicity aimed
At my dignity is atrociously firm
If you carry no buckets where catapults of class
Securely aims at my pride
If you carry no bag where bombs of racism
Aim at my struggling existence
If you hold no handcuffs to cuff my rights
Then I know you as no foe

Sins of fathers being carried by righteous wards
Is no fairness in my moral dictionary
As long as you come as is
I know no foe
I will know no foe
I will seek no foe
And I will embrace
Embrace your warmth with no qualms
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 25, 2019


Use every will to work
Frown on all those who shirk
Till we all our flaws impeding growth bury
We need to be in a fair hurry
So our feat will be seen
So we’ll get out of this sore hurts we’ve been

Let all who laugh with smiles
At our snail pace growth miles
Have nothing their foul mouths on blacks to say
Let them with respect pay
Us an ovation bow
Let them wonder and ask us why and how?

Then we’ll sing of all the toil we have suffered to reach there
Then they’ll know of all our strength and great will so they’ll act fair
So our mountains of shame
Get lost in our new fame
And all our fight
Will lead us to the light
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 24, 2019 (Inspired by James Weldon Johnson’s Lift Every Voice and Sing)


This is a world where strong sentiments
…need stronger spirits
This is a world where stronger hurdles –
…need the strongest souls
This is a world –
…where conflicting battles are fought with emotional swords
This is a world –
…a world where a little inattentiveness spells doom
So dig it-
…your sword of smiles from the pits of your hells

Where is your smile?
Dig it –
…from the well of your hurts
Where is your smile?
Mine it –
…from the depth of your sadness
Where is your smile?
Lift it –
…from the lowest floor of your pain
Where is your smile?
Drive it –
…through the vastest road of your shame
Where is your smile?
Blast it –
…from the hardest stone of your ridicule
Where is your smile?
Fetch it –
…from the hollow tunnel of your need
Where is your smile?
Carve it –
…from the coolest wood of your loneliness
Where is your smile?
Smoke it –
…from the deepest den of your hunt

Where is your smile?
Please don’t send it on pleasure errands of the unworthy
Where is your smile?
Get it
Just get it
As your most trusted armour-
…on this living battlefield
To help you fight fair
To help you block taunts
And fence you from vipers
Until real help knocks
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 23, 2019


So I brought my wife from Ghana
and got this fine Montana
My aging lovely wife
Is my soul, heart and life
I didn’t want to lose her
Undoing Montana wasn’t fair
So I invited her home and introduced them as such;
“Owusua, m’adumamu ni ni o,
Montana meet my lovely cousin”
Language alibiing in connivance
I took her to the guest room

Owusua brought us food
And soon I got into her hood
“Oh daddy
Oh daddy!
Oh daddy! I love the way you touch me!”
Girl yi de asɛm bɛbrɛ mi o!
“Oh daddy!
Oh daddy!
Oh daddy!
My tit is so hard!”

I stopped, put on the radio
And went out to my fate check
Nothing was wrong and I still felt safe
And so I locked in
Picking off from the left off
“Oh daddy! (what?)
Oh daddy! (shhh)
Oh daddy! (Awurade)
I think I’m gonna come now”
Oh I hit it
“Oh daddy!
Oh daddy!
Oh daddy!
I like the way you fuck me”
Heart thumping, I jumped off and cleaned up
And put on a shirt to still check my rating

I opened the door and saw Owusua on the floor
“Mewura metee biribi”
“Ɛnyɛ hweee m’awuraa ɛyɛ radio no ɛnono”
So I get back to it
And held her big tongue as I pump my air
Into her happy roaming tires

Wifey was convinced, that fuck she heard was “lock”
And I was so happy when she laid it off
But coming home the next day
Gave me a shock to this day
As the rubber I thought flushed
Met me with its unfortunate losers
Who were so happy
Because I prevented them from meeting- their life ticket eggs
Oh me!
Oh me!
Oh me!!!
What have I done now?
So I was forced to myself defend
Hwan na wo de no baa me fie ha no?
“Master look here, I’ve been here for a year
All your plans from the top are written in my palms
Your only source of hope
Is your really convincing remorse
Isn’t wisdom raising hands in a surrounded battlefield?”
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 14, 2019


I smell it
Vultures perching –
…on trees of negligence
Waiting for their meals –
… on grounds of confidence
Snooping for locationing –
… on the internet of carelessness
After signing trust deals
…on papers with drunkenness
I smell it

I sense it –
Shocked orphans crying
…on grounds of hopelessness
Sadly munching –
…on buns of innocence
Lost and sailing –
…on ships of foolishness
Skillessly in carving –
…on tickets of joyousness
I sense it

I can envision it
Roads lying and waiting
…on blood to feel vampiric affluence
Happily banking
…on wings of highness
Made possible by calculating
…on calendars of recklessness
Read in high rating
…on faces of addictive influence
I can envision it

Many drivers; the road gods and goddesses
On smoothness and roughness
Replace unfortunate stories like daily newspapers
Around festivities
Thinking lateness and not lateness
Thinking time beating and not death swooping
Spelling sadness on the future of happiness

Let’s smash it
The anticipatory room of doom
Let’s destroy it
The unknown orphaned cocoon
Let’s blast it
Death’s quarry of expectations
To build with its hard stones
…history of happy zero recording
In its disappointed registry
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 21, 2019


“Roads lay like mythical foot mats
Traffic lights; do they stand vertical or horizontal?
Will I be embracing danger of any kind?
Where is the shine of my vision?
I feel like a daunting unrhyming lyrics”

“Blasting sounds are so fierce
As they do nothing to me tickle
Only taps wake knowledge of happenings around
So what will be my fate if a gun hangs on my pate?
Will I hear the kekɛ kekɛ in order to find a way to tetɛ?
Will I have to die to wake in order to finally hear?”

“Some can even use sticks as legs
But my buttocks have turned into the ground’s nutmeg
Being grated in bits into the saucepan of dust
I dread a call for all to flee
What will my fate then be?”

All yous put in inverted commas of unfortunacy
Being bracketed by discrimination with no empathy
I pray the earth works to give you mercy!
I plead for seats for you
On minds of the stronger
I wish for magic wands of ease
To your sore lives please
For I have seen you with my heart
Felt you with the best hands of my soul
Been in your shoes many times with the legs of my mind
And know you toil,
Sometimes recoil,
Mostly boil
Still frustrations bump to your confidence soil

Try your best
Until you’re called to rest
There, none would be in jest
As differences, we’re told, would be a nonexistent crest
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 20, 2019


Go kill him, your Jesus
And wake him after your playing recess
Go kill him, your Jesus
And resurrect him after your prayers access
And continue the eternal cycle
Always a unicycle

Start by arresting him –
…with charges of your creation
Saying the son must –
…suffer for the Father’s nation
Start by handcuffing him-
…with hurts of his fame
Slapping him with your given –
… surrealistic power of his name
Build your yearly sins into a –
…bulldozing cross
To make him suffer your –
…serial loss

If you know not your ingredients
Worry not, you’ll be their dawning recipients
Petty quarrels –
… to ill gotten laurels
Hypocrisy –
… to hidden heresy
Fornication –
… to felt masturbation
Lies –
…to blasphemous cries
Stealing –
…to soiling superstioning
Needless Fighting –
…to cruel killing
What have you!
Only you see, in your mirror, your broken moral view!

Make sure your cross is heavy
So his intense pain can clear your sinful levy
Be sure he hears doing away with your drunkenness is one of your fears
Be sure he suffers to cry all your seas of tears
Bath him with your betraying spittle
And make him feel more than little
Kill and cook him –
… to your satisfaction’s brim
After, bury him in hymns
So he can serve as your God-calling sims

Oh Bluetooth his rising rumours –
…to clear your guilty tumors
Then wear your white –
…to praise with all your might
And after, rig his name as newly bathed pigs
… Isn’t that your happy gigs?

Err, isn’t your wages of sin his death?
Wouldn’t your months of sins lead to his birth?
Isn’t it a circle so cycled?
Don’t you always end up recycled?

So go, go and start your kill
To lay foundations to your paid bills
You all give me chills –
… Your rotten souls can’t heal!

Oh Easter is a duster
A yearly disaster!

——- .

Oh, precede your start with your crosses
Of afifi toffee, bae-mu-dwa-mu and wurɔ drɔsses
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 19, 2019


Great girls-
… Bully boys
Regal layered, local-
…national, internationally pushed
A stampede so brutal-
… Egos lost through negligence still seeingly unseen
Oh there’ll be Bronya dresses
… And overused chalewote to match
Catastrophic catastrophe –
… Who says? The seers say!

The winds, before, pushed down lasses
Down dream hills
Making them shadows
Lost in wholes
And wholes, lost to societal stakes
Don’t you see the same winds blowing in the opposite?

Will you continue –
… this pattern?
Planting queens –
… beside servants?
None grows weeds amidst –
… prized plants
None farms thorns in farms
… to be inherited by the soft palmed
Seamstresses know their worth is accentuated –
… by footwear
So why leave existing shoes in abongelement –
… while making extravagant dresses?

This is who we are –
… Forgettors of work in progress
Passionaters of the new
Why can’t we do this and do that
And hold this and hold that
And grow this and grow that
Side by side
To avoid unyoked inequalities?

Must we always pull this –
…To fall that
And fall that-
…to push this?
Would you rather farm lone hands-
…in heavens
Or happy hands –
… in paradise?
We need no hells of loneliness in heavens!
We need no fire and ice
The former –
…burning to evaporate the latter
The latter –
…seeking to kill the flames of the other

You don’t brake –
…on this bite back
And focus –
…on a balance
You’ll see the basket of vindictiveness –
…you sent to fetch water
In place of –
…the pot of fairness

If you wish for –
…a never ending chaos
Of one side –
…always facing the ground
Then continue –
…continue creating that vulnerable –

We’re here –
…as ancestors or nsaman-twɛntwɛn
We’re here –
…as breakers or brakers
We’re here –
…As achievers or hopelessnesses

Whatever rides our consciences –
…on streets of righteousness and calm
Must be the wheels on our minds

Afterall –
…we know of dead goats –
…that is, if we’ve not acted them
We know of toothless barking dogs –
…that is, if we’ve not mimicked them into reality
We know of white elephantic hopes –
…if we’re not white elephantic cartoons
Where our development being on its mark –
…is concerned

So take the wings –
…of lads
And give them –
…to the lasses
…king one
To fix –
…the other and let’s clap for ourselves
Our wisdom knows no bound
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 18, 2019


Godon godon godon, gong gong godon
Apatampa godon, krɛkɛtɛ godon, kon kon gudon, krɛtɛke godong, apatampa gudon, ɔnwam atikɔ pɔ firi suantie twɛdeɛ! Godon!

While the sounds lift
Even the heads of mouths in ground dancing
Close doors stage worst nightmares
To be covered by dust made through the dance of the crowd
How intelligent!

Godon godon godon, gong gong godon
Apatampa godon, krɛkɛtɛ godon, kon kon gudon, krɛtɛke godong, apatampa gudon, ɔnwam atikɔ pɔ firi suantie twɛdeɛ! Godon!

How skillfully perfected this cycle is!
How sadly ignorant we all seem!
Knowingly unknowing!
Unknowingly knowing!
Yet trap after trap after trap after trap
See us back lying in a defeating caughtness

Must the nation suffer belly ache because of the cholera of greed gladly caught by insatiable few?

Godon godon godon, gong gong godon
Apatampa godon, krɛkɛtɛ godon, kon kon gudon, krɛtɛke godong, apatampa gudon, ɔnwam atikɔ pɔ firi suantie twɛdeɛ! Godon!

How drizzles always precede tsunamis
Slashes my intestines and knots them into dysfunction

Can’t we learn to shed the see through
Nighties of nightmares
To escape rape through dangerous known routes?
Funny the drums beat on

Godon godon godon, gong gong godon
Apatampa godon, krɛkɛtɛ godon, kon kon gudon, krɛtɛke godong, apatampa gudon, ɔnwam atikɔ pɔ firi suantie twɛdeɛ! Godon!

And we will always be lost
Always, in their dust and sweats
And beauty and talk
Only to be vomited onto the shores of third worldhood

Godon godon godon, gong gong godon
Apatampa godon, krɛkɛtɛ godon, kon kon gudon, krɛtɛke godong, apatampa gudon, ɔnwam atikɔ pɔ firi suantie twɛdeɛ! Godon! Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 16, 2019


All you scouting streets for holes of meat
Feigning defeat when pushed to back seats
Sulking from playing last fiddle to passion’s beat
You don’t have to be a roaming cheat
All you need is a baaad girl

All you need is a
… baaad girl
One who can flip
… your flaps
Deflate your over pumped
… bellies
Fetch goosebumps from the interior
… of your old and hardened exterior
And vulcanize your flat
… egos into that of newborns

Why chase away matches when you can train your dog
To be able to fetch your log
From the other side of flutters dock?
Just shed your unnecessary mock

All you need is a
… baaad girl
Who can burst into
… your archaic mouth
Sit on its white elephant
… sofa
Stand, play around
… the walls

… … …under to clear some choked pores
And reach into your deeper chambers
… to tickle your excitement

Think of all the wheeling sick carts
Bought for selves like fine arts
Only to break into sweats of hurts
Knowing you’ve stepped on other innocent hearts

All you need is a
… baaad girl
One who will tour you
To find your Accra in the whole of
… your Ghana
To find your Kigali in the whole of
… your Rwanda
To spot your Paris in the whole of
… your France
To locate your Toronto in the whole of
… your Canada
Gifting you shivers from passion’s happy
… rivers

As you go through the heat
Of stalking
And talking
And hating
And manipulating
And threatening
Wouldn’t you rather live calm and neat
With no sore frets on your ego?

You need a baaad girl
One who will lick you up
… like a lollipop
Crown you up like a tight
… cork on a shaky bottle
Swim in the seas of your
… eyes in action
Slap your expectations with
… a wow and an aww
And still call you
… Awesome

So pick you up and pick her up
From the domestic basket where she has herself tossed
Lift you up from the bore of her ring
To see the city of your wants
Whet her appetite to take that chariot to your needdom
Sharing visions attainable in beddom
Without fears

All you need is a
… baaad girl
Just open the windows of her
Fetch the girl from
… the old
For every old was ever a
… a young
It is a blessing to bring your part along

You just need that
… baaad girl
The one who lit your passions and woke your reactions in the then
You need the
… baaad girl
That one who comatosed in herself in her bid to you or your new shoots fit
You need a
… baaad girl
That one who slept long to light the carer to glow
You need that
… baaad girl
That flower whose thorns fell off
To make your hold painless and your climb smooth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April, 16, 2019


Yaa I
Abena- Boɔ is a mysterious being, I swear!
See, just last week, Maame Ama’s cat
Escaped Efo Dzakpasu’s bɔtɔ
And found an opening in her window
So decided to find some protection from its assailant
In her room
All we repeatedly heard was
Ei abayifoɔ yi! Ɔbayifoɔ, ɛnɛ deɛ w’ahyia!
By the time we reached there
The poor Nyame Bɛkyerɛ had joined its ancestral cats
Painfully through her banku ta

Yaa II
That is not all o
Just five days back,
Akua Mansa woke up at dawn to sweep
Only to see this same Abena-Boɔ
Sitting in front of her room with something whitish
Smeared all over her face
Akua shouted and run off shouting
“Kakai o! Kakai!”
The next morning, Eno Abena made a song out of “Abayifoɔ yi a mo wɔ fie ha yi a!”

As if that is not enough
Four days ago,
Her mother came with her sisters to visit her
She poured salt all over them
And swept their footsteps
Like they were some kind of garbage disposed at her doorsteps
All the while shouting “ei abayifoɔ o!”

Yaa IV
As for what happened three days ago,
I was so scandalized!
We were all outside when some cockroach
Being chased by some fowls passed by
She quickly picked praye-tia and started hitting it
All the while shouting “hwɛ hwɛ hwɛ hwɛ, hwɛ abayifoɔ no!”

Yaa V
Just yesterday
We were all sleeping when we heard
“Obi mmɛgye me o
Abayifoɔ yi pɛ sɛ wɔn kyere me we o”
We rushed in to see
What she termed witchcraft
Was the shadows of the swaying palm fronds
Elongated by the outside light

Yaa VI
Don’t laugh!
What at all is this?
What is the definition of witchcraft?
No wonder she has no job
And lives off her poor old husband
Who comes through once in a fortnight

But what could be the cause of her shadow fearing?
Aha! It could be that new pastor
What is that his name again?
Wɔ Pɛ Wo Akum Wo
Causing confusion after spending her few pesewas

Kofi I
So all you know is the name of the pastor?
You mean all you’ve seen are these few scenarios?
Then listen and listen well
The name of her church is He Will Kill Your Enemies Jesus the Just Church
Before I travelled, my young son asked me to watch her
So he could show me something
He just clapped
And Eno Abena somersaulted three times
Don’t laugh

Kofi II
I gave him a beating and warned him
But Eno went on to sprinkle stone salt in front of our door
I felt somewhat afraid
I mean, clapping and foot stumping are all they do at their church
Why then did it startle her?
And coming from a child of 6?
Stop laughing Yaa
Maybe she found herself in place of Satan
And felt the clap aiming at her
But truthfully, if this is to continue
I fear for her
Ah! There comes my cue, my rice is burning
You know wifey has travelled
See you later!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 15, 2019


Let’s open our doors –
…of deeds
And sweep out –
… silly sulkings
Gathering the dirt –
… of daydreaming
Adding the garbage-
… of grumbling
To throw into the incinerator –
… Of servitude
To see the cleanliness-
…of a start-anew

Let’s dust the sands-
… of dawdling
Fetching and filling our drums-
… With togetherness
Washing our clothes to get out stains-
… of sabotage
Scrubbing off floors of taints –
… Of feeble mindedness
In preparedness for cooking-
Our development

Let’s weed out plants –
… Of redundancy
Ploughing the fields of wealth –
… With hard work
Our confidence stemming from –
… Tactful skills acquisition
Uprooting stumps –
… Of neocolonialism
Planting in their places the love –
Of our own

Let’s remove all cob webs –
… of corruption
Scrapping off selfishness under our –
… Working pans
Killing off nwansena-pobi –
… Of corruption weavers
To help our work feed us –
With ours

Let’s brush bitterness out of –
… Our mouths
Gurgling with mouth wash of appreciation
Bathing to wash off stains
… Of lies
… Of hate
… Of fence sitting
… Of unhealthy connections
And of backbiting to arrive at healthy growth

Let’s build this nation –
… With the cement of determination
… Stones of optimism
… Sands of selflessness
… Iron rods of tolerance
Roofing with love –
… Self motivation
… Can-do spirits
Rocking our own with plastering and painting attitudes –
… Of this-is-the-bestness
… Of you-wish-you-were-in thisness
Waking admirations and a following unrivalled

I speak for us when I say
… We’re tired of the capriciousness of pull him downs
…The deceptive debauchery destroying our youth
…The unthinking and dubious fat-catting killing our zeals
… The unjustified paranoia cancelling our attraction
… The pandemonium of polluters soiling our land
And the antiquated see-through commotionary accusations digging us in

Even jungle beings survive to see many a moon
Digging out patronizing partiality:
… Scorn
… Suffrage of the vulnerable
… Unfairness of the un-belonging
And holding hands to stand up in hard times
To build the heaven we want
Taking ourselves off the list of shitholes
Of orange-skinned ignorant racists

For we are-
… Can doers!
Who built their-
…Near heavens?
Who toiled for their shiny –
… Capitals?
Who built the crowns –
… Their heads so parade to us enslave?

We can if we decide to!
We will if we agree to!
Kente came out of just watching the spider weave
Didn’t it?

Every soul has a hand of change!
Wake your spirits to wake your souls
To the new awakening
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2019


I will gift myself to a Caucasian
Than have me be the back decoration of an Afrimuffin
Who left the embrace of his mother
To serve at the feet of an unkind master

I will gift myself to a Caucasian
I will so gift myself to a vulture looking Caucasian
Than be one of the juiciest meats
Afrimuffins select through the lenses of their many defeats
Riding on products dreams of planes and Yankees
I have now seen their cunning keys

So locals should suffer with village spittings
While you select the worthy chippings
Because of your servitude in high altitude?
After wearing yourselves into weakened wrinkles, you grow a confidence in attitude
To select the juiciest fem produce from your home farms
Thanks to your few droppings of dollars?
Chai! Nnipa a ne nnipa ne sika!

I will gift myself to a Caucasian
I will so gift myself to a Caucasian
Than fall victim to your rotten bananas
And your stalking Hannahs
Who surely will give no peace
Just because your jealous pins may be tearing you into many a piece
Osoookode adwenha, yɛ gye no akɔkora tiriho!

I will gift myself to a Caucasian
I will so gift myself to an unworthy Caucasian
For him to use as his sleeping rag
Than see myself as the queen of you Afrimuffins
Who mostly eat the shitty attitudes of your white muffins
And have only the intentions of homegoing and not that of homecoming
Were your souls captured by slavery?

Annoying how you won’t even rise to their levels
Always acting their shovels
And keep piling on your mother
Stinking rags of your master
I will gift myself to a Caucasian
I will so gift myself to a foul mouthed, tick-testicled-Caucasian
Than you regally flushed Afrimuffins
Determined to die and mix with alien sands while your mother craves your touch
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2019


Exhume the words from the soil of the past
And dust the hurts which nailed the heart
At the crossroads of good and bad
Making it take the latter
To reach the hell of uselessness
In the vehicle of bitterness

Kinder words would have nursed the seedlings of morality
In beds of role modelling
Watered with hope, aired with tenderness in the sun of care
And given eyes determination
To take the path of dreams in the vehicle of hard work
To reach the seat of greatness

So this ghost of deviancy you see
Is your mouthy-works
Which killed a good kid and created a robotic monster
To train its innocent spirit and mourning soul
To reach this point of bother
Where your horrified eyes watch
As your fear-arrested mouth quiver

Deal with the nightmare
Many might have suffered victims
In its frantic climb to get to you
How unfair it would be if you escape!
For now plant the lesson in soils of fertile hearts
To germinate and grow into moral lessons
To save the future from the fury of fire
Mostly started by careless moments of insensitivity
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 12, 2019


I will ride on your rea
I will sit on your su
I will brake on your brea
I will soo clout your ca
And will lick your lear

Let me hear the drops of your tears in torrents
Ko, ko, gidim gidim, ko, ko, ko, ko, gidim gidim, hweeeee!
Let the wind of your hurts try uprooting
The trees of my defenses
And see how I kill your efforts

I will flake in your fea
I will work in your wai
I will float in your fra
I will run from your rin
And paddle your pa

Menkɔti a menti
Gyentia dada nyɛ sɔ na
Go and fetch the fires of experience from the lighted oven of Satan
And come try to light the death of your reign
And see how I will spit on your hard work

I will rake your ro
I will trap your trac
I will severe your ser
I will truncate your tru
And haunt your hea

It takes great efforts for a donkey to become a dragon
It takes a lot of exercise for a butterfly to become an eagle
It is a near impossibility for a sheep to turn lion
Step once on a testicle in mistakehood
The foolish second time needs a fair battle
So try and touch even the seams of my freedom
And see how I burn your yearning

I will pierce your pea
I will hound your ho
I will peck your pl
I will trash your ten
And tear into your tear

These doors are safely locked o!
A padlock of determination
On codes of forward-everness
With a balustrade of independence
So try giving it your best
And see how I arrow your sorrow

I will cook your cro
I will lamp your lo
I will brush off your blu
I will snow on your soul
And tackle your tir

Even the earth sometimes fumes in quakes
Expert eyes know better to flee
But you flea, you continue to follow the scent of sweets
You try and see how I catapult your ambitious bird

I will fling your fea
I will behead your be
I will cut and cook your car
I will so eat your en
To stop you at all cost, you SCOUN

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 11, 2019


You chose,
You chose the flapping and slapping ass
And the beautiful big brown eyes
You chose,
You chose those breasts oh so walky-up-and-downing voluptuous
And those beautiful long legs
You chose
You chose the toffee-like mouth well painted
And the milky-coffee-like-skin well bleached
I didn’t matter then
I don’t want to matter now

There are no riddles in wants of the heart
None goes from loving water melons to loving lime
Can you forget the red chewables and squeezy waters?
Can you replace the sweetness with the sour nature of lime’s taste?
Please be not confused about the many seeds
Breaking your interest
Chew them too, aren’t they some portion sort of
In the excitement of your enjoyment?
Mister, kill your snake and this punch take
Is it because you now know I can make lemonades
And be in so many other “nades”?
I am no mucus reliever of you nothingness
I didn’t matter to you then
I shouldn’t matter to you now

What youth selects, should be the seat of adulthood
If you are that aggrieved
Turn back the steering of time and go change your choice
Don’t stand here with your unpleasant sounds of regret
No gold in the earth turns jewellery by itself
Unpleasant wizardry, is coveting a finish when you disliked its beginning
Agya, I so didn’t matter to you then
I most certainly don’t want to matter to you now

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 10, 2019


Your Jesus whose name is a whip you pull out
Whenever your anger turns into a shout
On building a house into a home
Was he not lonesome?

Your Jesus
That name you spit out
Whenever you seek from me a man in the moral stout
Did he ever let his pestle pound fufu in any abaayowa’s sweet mortar?
Were there whispers of he courting some man of affluence’s daughter?

Your Jesus
That name you chant out
Whenever you see children, trying to make it my emotion’s clout
Can you please name his first born?
Maybe then, I will heed to your bothersome horn

Please, let me be
And let your Jesus be
You always chanting his name makes him the ghost we all see
Parading in tricking, hurting and killing

Oh I forgot
You call it saving…
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 9, 2019


Feuds hide in curtains of days past
To make monsters of grieving cast
On stages of new days
How did I come to wear a devil’s mask
In mirrors of new eyeballs?
Did you so mix days with nights to win wars of the past?

You drag me through the slums of hunger
Arrange need on street pans to sell in danger
Laid rags under open skies to catch the eyes of many a stranger
I served, bitterness swerving

You dragged me through fire
To school of the aspire
In straits so dire
Building on me a head of will
And serving difficult options on plates of confusion
Trapping me into another knapsack of troubles
I still served, bitterness swerving

So you planted a poor seed in my fertile ground
And made useless the farmer who I thought I had found
As I listened to the pain of my own sound
My hairs never resting in their pores
Turning nights into frightful days
And days into worrying trays
I still served, bitterness swerving

After climbing that mountain
With tears as my internal fountain
You asked the seventh to abort the counting
Shattering dreams of apex reaching
Pushing me to fall hard on stones of sadness
And what? You still deserve a serving?
Not that I can’t, you gave the will
This wrestling is necessary
For flesh pain feeling

So now what?
I have a devil’s mask on
In eyes which you adore?
I will scare!
I will haunt!
I will taunt!
I will this mask flaunt
Until the waves of my heart
Recede from the shores of hurts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 8, 2019


“Mirror mirror on our wall
What are we at all?”
Lions swallowed by cats swallowed by mice
All trapped by hyenas
You are ebonies lost in fake pink and on the brink of a sink
You are porcupines made up like rain-whipped nsɛnsɛ
You are abro a apɛnsɛ
Marked to be harvested by mouths whose hands know not your soil
Talk less of your sweats
You are hairs hidden in wigs of abrɔ-nsɛ
Like ghosts of colonizers mosquitoes killed on battles of malaria
You are hearts murdering your own souls just as hungry grounds drink passing waters
Pots drinking off your own waters to be cracked and broken by chasing heat!

You are the rich with pockets linked to sockets of greed
You’re pure seeds always craving corroding seeds as your garnish
You are tattered clothes on your own fleshes
Opening up to scavengers with your eyes shut open
You are idiots of wants, always hiding behind suited fetishes who
Chew your dignity to open you up to worship manipulations
You’re everything you shouldn’t be
And everything just any tool could be

Look at you
Rot of safe options
Fences of indifference
Eyes of looking blindness!
Listening deafs!
Muted talking mouths!
Strong stuck legs!
Healthy laze-arrested hands
With poor caged hearts!

I am not telling you this
You’re looking at yourselves in me
And seeing what you are
I am but a mirror, opening myself to your ‘you’ viewing
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 7, 2019


Once tortoise befriended a snail
And they embarked on a loving tale
When storms did visit, tortoise snail shielded
When cars did bump, tortoise snail shielded
There wasn’t a thing in harm that could tortoise get
Snail just looked and began to fret
People sang of the great tortoise’s strength
And went ahead to shelter beneath its length
Snail felt stressed and strangely jealous
With time its feelings made it callous
Then it began to whisper to sprinkle bad rumours
To get tortoise tortured in weakness humours
All animals began to look for a battle
So they could wrestle tortoise for its mantle
So tortoise did leave the place for peace
And left all to live in peace
The day after, legs of sheep passed as usual
And felt a slime so unusual
It looked down; snail’s shell crashed into many a piece
Same spot but gone shade
Snail felt regret all too late
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 6, 2019


I feel it
That yearning that won’t fit
That unsettling that won’t sit
That dream that won’t quit
Dissatisfactions that always hit
All those feelings threatening to wrestle me into doom’s pit

But when I, like a snail, the boarders cross
I feel like I’m carrying a loneliness cross
Wearing heaviness and a sense of loss
Thoughts of a chick straying from its hen me do toss
Stomach beings raising demonstrations oh so gross
So what is my mind’s missing boss?

It could be the songs in which I belong
It could be the culture in which I am strong
It could be the company where I feel among
It could be the fuss of the spiritual ding dong
It could be the love rhythms of the gong
It could be the battles we fight for long
It could be the lapses and all the wrong
Oh it could be the passions of our talking ding dong

It could be the mother in all she older
It could be the father in all he older
It could be the uncles in all blossomed men
It could be the sisterhood in all the gals
It could be the brotherhood in all the pals
It could be the dust in all our past
It could be the rust in all our must
It could be the burst in all our hurts
It could be just the sounds of nature’s beaked jets

So I am glued
Glued and might be fooled
But stuck here in spirit
Stuck here where I fit
Up there in head room
Even when the body, like a vehicle, drives out
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 5, 2019


We have lived
Lived through the dawn of our rise,
To the morning of our victory
And got stuck
Between the morning of our victory
And the growth of our rise

Blessed with suns unrivalled
I wonder how we’ve still not gotten there
There, where the suns of growth shine fair
Blessed with moons whipping darkness
I wonder why we aim not to dine
Dine at the tables of greatness and wine
That the eve of development serves
Why haven’t we?

We are getting wrinkled and still teething
Why are we nibɔing?
We are getting old but still toddling
Why are we numsaing?
We are getting fondled but still sleeping
Why are we junsɔbɔing?
Do we so love the dew of dawn
And not the fair rains of the night?

Ngaaa, ngaaa, ngaaa
And our mouths still suckle from the blood and tears
Of the pains of our yesteryears

Childhood has its season
Once we overstay our welcome,
As we have,
We turn weeds
Weeds all vegetarians,
Including herbivores like goats and sheep and rabbits
Turn to eat at will
Even dogs mostly bite through us for strength
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 3, 2019


She is a she from a she through a he
She is a sea made of rivers no mouth can name
She is a sky with lightning and clouds
With suns and moons accompanied by stars even in rains

Her hands are healing
Her bosom is a comforter
Her shoulders strong to take in
Any hurdle thrown on her
Her head is a library of care and fair and competence and dignity
Her face is a mask of all things from good to mischievous
Her feet know no challenges
Her love is like a fountain
Flowing out and filling in

She is the sky
She is the earth
She is the sea

She is the pot whose water never runs dry

She is the trees
She is the air
She is the core of life’s pores

She is the woman!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 8, 2019


The porcupine walked like the kqueeng of pride
Tongue-macheting and butchering lion
“You are like the foolish baboon
Who stays only in the thighs of trees
Pouring promises like rain
In an action of zero
Let me be
Let me be the kqueeng of this jungle
And see the change and peace and light and food
That will fall like manna from the juices of my capabilities”

And so all animals in the jungle hoped
Frowning on failures of lion
Hoping the great meeting day runs fast to them
So they could sweep him out like filth in River Tuse

Formulas poured from the tongue
And fell from the beak of porcupine
Like dew of dawn
Kissing and caressing dreams of all the living in the jungle
Until the meeting day arrived

It didn’t take long
For all who were strong
To whisk the throne from the buttocks of lion
As the weak cursed
“Look into your promising tank
There sure is nothing but mosquitoes of disappointments
Biting our expectations and sucking them dry
As hunger hangs us on hangers of deception
Go with your failure and let the capable help us flourish”

Porcupine became the first Kqueeng of the jungle
The crown of the king and queen placed on his decorated head, then he saw stance did matter and differ in ruling

Time traveled no long distance
Before the animals saw they erred
Rains stopped falling
Suns stopped shining
Air seldom blew
So trees became lean and sickly and bald
Leaves and flowers suffered burns and died
Rivers died and became evaporative ghosts
Leaving the jungle and inviting heat and thirst

The animals rushed to the kqueeng
Who sat by the unquenchable river
Sipping as servants fan relaxation into the throne
Complains started falling like snow in winter
Then turned threats slowly turned into a frost bite
Before it could escalate into a demonstration
Arrows were shot into them
Killing many and planting fear in all
As their knees tasted sharp stones to plead for mercy

And so it was
That the jungle lost it all
Some animals praying for the next meeting
Which sat quietly in the far future
Some animals wailing in regret
Some animals fleeing to live
Some animals grumbling about their stupidity
Some animals acting stooges to be favoured and gifted by the kqueeng
Who lived up to the name
And always looked down to shame
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 2, 2019


This kinky mess
Can turn one in many and many in one
This kinky mess
Stops blood in its painful oozing
Oh medicine on a head!
This kinky mess
Is a dress in the cold
And a disciplined disciple which listens to hands of its comb
When dressed, respecting scissors and making it easy for barbers

This kinky mess is not like ɛsrɛ,
Flowing on and whipping faces
Following the wind rather than their carriers
It is only natural that comb punishes heads for their keep
Every jewel needs that painful refinement
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 1, 2019


You have been like a shadow
Haunting in my follow
Daunting in my sorrowful hollow
Uncaring even in my Jonah-like-swallow
Call me shallow
But I still can’t you follow

I can’t tell whether you’re farther or a father
I can’t tell whether you’re a monster or a mother
I don’t know what you feed, hurdles or manna?
You seem like an aggressive hen
Kicking chicks even in loving
What is this now?
A balm?
I still can’t you follow

You know the nature of what you create
You know the veins of pride which work with intestines of ego in your created
You know the dept of shame sitting in every pore on this skin
Yet you drag me through mud and dung and faeces and gutters
Shame after pain after jeers after hurts
And show me to the world on a dangling scale
How will I you follow?

Yes, you have watered anger in my fine-hunger
You know you have carved stranger in my loving-manger
And you want to see love in my look above
When I don’t know where your stool sits?
I won’t have me you follow

So take off your heels of thoughts from the tiles of my conscience
This noise makes me feel like a cat
Caught stealing in its dream
When we both know the only trait of cats I own is fierceness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 31, 2019


They are boiling, boiling like angry waters
From the pits of your stomach right up to the lid of your head

They are boiling, I know they are boiling
That rejection water I served in the calabash of your ego
Burns right through your throat
And is raising monstrous hatred
Boiling you unwholesomely whole
But please rest easy

If you take your time to look at it
What boils inside that being you are
Is like a Fante kenkey
The leaves of anger with spine of need
And the rubber of loss
Covering your supposed kenkey of love
Mr. Lover, please rest easy

A man is a man who drinks from the calabash of rejection
And takes the stance of a handshake
Deciding between the paths of parting and persistence
Not the one who builds words into stones
To serve back through his catapult of bitterness
Thinking it salve on his sore ego
He is not a man who builds foot-soldiers to taunt
Thinking to show his clothes of a warrior
To cower pride into a fall in his palms

Let not those eyes see a weak damsel in my stand
I am Agowa’s Abena Amoafowaa Jemremedua
The fiery queen who never breaks in a bend
I am Sefa Mansa Tawiah
That third spirit protected by the spirits of nta
I am that she who sees through even the egoistic walls of Jericho
On manly nations, let not my silence you deceive
Your tricks are but amusement jokes
Luring me into a state of fun and ties-cutting
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 29, 2019


I am paralysed by happy shocks
Knowing I could a factory buy many stocks
Thanks to this fertilizer you’ve given to this cause

The dream of women being their own shades
Through the trees of their pockets
Umbrellaring their own in nursing great
Protecting their young from needing so cruel
Would be realized thanks to you

This seed you’ve watered
This land you’ve fertilized
Will do all it can, even the impossible
To grow goodness
Making sure its fruits fall in right seasons
To nourish the hungry and strengthen the weak

Yes, fear stares from all corners
Yes, failure taunts from all snaking roads to the success mountain I see
But nothing will prevent us from shedding the sweats to appear clean at the top
Because you’ve cancelled failure with your grand deed

Greatness awaits
A world of feminine independence
Placed in capable heads
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 29, 2019



A he is in a she as a she is in a he
A she is in a he as a he is in a she
Yolk and water, a blending cooker
So why can’t we all see?

We have been long in this shuttle of prejudice
Which drove us through deserts of bitterness
On seas of blame-gaming
Right to this battlefield of loneliness
Making even the few odds,
Couples in brutal rings
When will we ever drive to the heaven of sense?

We can live by the measuring ruler
On who is better by centimetres of gender
We can live with pillows of alienation
And pleasure ourselves with weirding of queering
We can build boarding communities to separate blues from pinks
Who loses in the end?

The empty world and lonely earth
Ridden by lice who live in the hair of Asaase Yaa
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 28, 2019


Sisters and brothers turned strangers in the strange!
Mothers and fathers left lonely in old gaols
Sons and daughters growing in deserts of hatred
Think not you are cursed
Lament not your dejection
For if time will peel history backwards
It would reveal your mountains of love
Turned pain and sadness in your grand ancestry
As your pots were forcefully captured
Into painful planting whose fruits did you bear

Did you know?
Did you know that
Mothers cried until dehydration fried them in dungeons of death?
Oh fathers wept and neglected their shame, forgetting “Bɛɛma nsu”
Some hanged, others died of shock
Their hearts shattered into pieces
Fighting and failing and running and saving… some
Unsealable holes were left in hearts of brothers and sisters
Who stared vacantly hoping their loss would be returned
They wore mourning as skins until their generations quenched out
Even we, green leaves replacing vanished browns,
Have never forgotten

How can we ever forget shadows of our ancestors
Who hid in caves to our lineage save?
How can we forget those whose mourning was tarnished
By the need to ever flee?
How can we forget those who built on rivers and turned warrior architects
Moving from settlements to settlements
Like lost ants who can’t locate their sunny holes?
How can anyone forget their thoughts of being caught like rabbits
And skinned, and eaten?
Who can ever forget their brothers or sisters or mothers or fathers?
Blood is a sea with no divisive rivers


Don’t you think if fate would have it
This ink will sink to clear our link in a blink?
Don’t you know?
Don’t you know if we could
We would hoe the ground to reach our foes who made you kowtow
To their crow selves so low?
Don’t you know the unknown if known
Would have been blown into pieces to you shown in rescue?
Don’t you know tears piled on fears at your caught?
Don’t you know hearts still yearn for your brought?
You royal black seeds uprooted and turned weeds in strange lands!

You’re all royalty!
As slaves turned royals and royals turned paupers!
You’re all royalty still yearned for in asamando and this living here!
You’re all royalty no matter how scattered or tattered
Strange sands have made you
It is an order irreversible
But blackness lives in relations
Each and everyone as sibling or child
Mother or father

So stop, look back one last time
And heed to Nkrumah’s words
“Forward ever, backwards never”
Chasing dreams hitherto impossible
Even as monsters of racism and drugs chase your strength
And your dignity and your beauty
And your handsomeness
And your curves and your wholesomeness
Blood in black,
Build in the physical Martin Luther King’s dreams
And put an unerasable smile
On his gone face
Long live blackness!
Long live Africans lost to past monsters!
Long live you and I
With skin blessed melaninly
For we are rulers! Rulers the future has enstooled!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 28, 2019

Photo: Google Pics


You blow strength in my mind
And leave me, like a cruel lover, to watch your behind
You build faith in my heart
And you fly to live on the tree of myth like a deserted dove
You nurse optimism in my bed of pessimism
And leave me with thorns of sadness
You shine me dry and leave me, why?

I will forever remember your rise on me
Like a mound of a yam tuber
I will forever remember your appearance from me
Like a knight in a lovely cameo
I will forever remember your smile like the sun,
Oh son turned angel
And will forever remember your naughty ways
Like an adorable cat
But help me to forget your behind
That back you turned without my looking
Still hurts like a thousand pieces of arrows
Shot all at once, into your mother’s little heart
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 27, 2019


Pen them
Pen your thoughts and stamp them as norm
But legalize them only in your world
Not the one we all share
For your thought’s rights cancel not that of mine
Nor his
Nor hers
Nor theirs
Even elephants as a set own not the jungle
And lions as a set own not the trait of fierceness
And oh, eagles own not the skies
You do know that seas belong not only to sharks
So stamp it
Stamp your thoughts as legality
Only in your legislative parliament
And not the one we share
So you can shred your attitude of queer
And show some dignity called ‘fair’
Only then will clothes of humanity be seen
On your monstrous opinions
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 5, 2019


Cry the vagina of the nation
For all the penises of neglect pounding its hole
Cry the vagina of the nation
For all the huge penises of corruption tearing her up into pitiful pieces
Cry the vagina of the nation
For the hands of children of her womb
Taking off her clothes, opening wide her legs
To pave way for monstrous alien penises of greed
To fuck her hard using aphrodisiacs so potent
To hear her deadly screams
Cry the vagina of the nation
For its sores which get no sympathy from even her horny sons
Ah! Even her daughters seem to be fingering her with sharp nails!
Do cry
Cry and cry and cry and cry!
Cry in the temple of sense
With warriors bearing swords to battle hypocrisy
Shed your tears to attract
Clean hearts bearing metal panties
To cover her up long enough for her to heal
To see if she will get to her own feet
Taking her life into her hands
To build for herself a nation of royalty
Maybe then, the tears will rather wash her feet
Tears from everywhere but your hard worked eyes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 31, 2018


I see
I see sameness in variation
One in many and many in one
If only minds will see same

I see
I see blackness in shining armour
Swords of words and words of arrows
If only hands will use

I see
I see colours weathering on same skies
In a bond that binds and winds needing rewinds to cure our blindness
If only our eyes will look in same direction

I see
I see you in me and me in you
He in she and she in he
Perfection wrapped in uncertainties

I see
I see the future in today
A call in our fall
A wake for our take
No, not our take but we as Africa in a take over

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 10, 2019


As cages of ages in the past which now turn to imprison minds
Become old for a sold
Future children are being killed in present wombs
Through manipulation of present minds
To keep our knees on the piercing gravels of the ground
To maintain the posture of our heads
So we look down with our hands stretched
For crumbs
And bottoms open for humiliatory fucks at their will

When will this blindfold fall?
When will we heed our ancestors call?
When will we play the wisdom ball
To clear us from the field of penury?
Will we ever ditch the boos of illiterates of nations great?
Will we ever stop dancing like Korean candies on world stages?
Will we ever stop digging out our own foundations
As we sit in the middle of buildings
Buildings watered by the blood of our forefathers?

Help us
Help us please!
Help us from yonder world
To stop this suicidal murder of our nations
This is a plea oh ye ancestors!
A plea to mine our minds as others mine our gold
So you can refine to be gifted as tickets for our hope
For we are sinking low
Low, into hands of even little hunting yellow dogs
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 25, 2019


Hearts now jump from chests into hands
At the mention of byes
Luggage shivering at commuting thoughts
On bloodthirsty baits
Lying straight or curved
Clearly smooth or rough
Bearing tombs or pools
With gluttonous teeth in wait
Crying for attention and getting none

How many more ghosts do we need as barriers
At every intersection?
Nsamantwentwen are practically stationed at every point
Wailing their inability to reach destinations hoped
Wishing the past a turnable wheel
Acting like aggrieved children of the uncaring land
Which partook in their painful blood parties

With cathedrals taking precedence over ambulances
Bribery scaling fences of law enforcement
And Tramol acting opium of steering minds
How do we hold the dagger of death from smiting the innocent
On traps we have set?

It is sad
The many rotten foods of risks on plates of the poor user!
It is annoying
The many hunting traps in set for many to overtake youths unfilled
In this earthly jungle
There should be a reverse
Where rich rulers wear shoes of the dead for only years of three
Tasting all that pain entails
In losing dears through recklessness
Like road accidents
Then, only then, will sense wake in their greed infested heads
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 24, 2019


Are you not under the umbrella of pressure
Having to hide your he in clothes of a she?

Do you not feel the pain of your cracking ego
When you lie beneath for a pounding
Hounding your rear hole?

Even with lubrications
Your rear might have altercations with pain
Oh is it the rule of pleasure parceled in pain?

Don’t you mostly feel like a toy
Having to act queer to steer
When some fem craves you in a kingly stool?

I know insensitivity has crept into this ink
So punch me not with your sour wits
These questions can just hang on the ropes of my curiosity
So go on and shake those buttocks
Raise your pretty fingers to throw off those non existent hairs from your face
Lilt your voice to seduce your target
And leave this inquisitive ink to dry in no-attention
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 23, 2019


Tell me
Tell me what I need to know
Break the ice of secrecy which burns my heart’s core
Please tell me

I can’t tell you I saw you lovingly kissing her lips
I can’t tell you I saw how you happily unzipped her zips
I can’t tell you I saw you skillfully unstrapping her bra
So annoying how she cunningly called you “Braa”
I can’t tell you the goosebumps that grew on my skin
As you dug deep into her to fetch her scornful moans from her whoring in
I don’t know what pains more
Her happy cries or your proud cheating?
Her taunting beauty or my starved bed?
Whatever it is, do tell me

This chirping bird in my mind can work my hands into harm
So tell me, even if you hide under the cover of her charm
My chest has climbed jealous mountains higher than Afadjato
Still, it runs up and down in fury with no tired traits
So tell me
This face which pretentiously smiles
These hands which with a little shiver serve
These legs which move around
All call for your head
So tell me
Leave not my mind to host dialogues of veins
So tell me
So I can fold my mat and leave your hut
Hearts after all are like boiling water
Once they are taken off the fires of bad love
They simmer to cool
So please tell me
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 3, 2018


This is the state of fate
Where every second hang foot-wears and paths
For naked and blind feet to step into
Knowing nothing that awaits
Not thorns nor sticks
Nails nor smooth roads
Trees nor shrubs
Rains or sunshine

This is the state of fate
Where every day holds spectacles for unsuspecting eyes
Who like blind folks wear what is to be worn in a higher script
And play parts on stages which arrested their control
Long before their births

This is the state of fate
Where own will was colonized before conception
Beautiful lies!
Handsome deceptions!
Pathetic boldness!
Slaves in a make believe apparel of royalty!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 25, 2019


Only a devil will push his tail in a nation
Only a pig breaks into a temple to leave prints of dirt
Only a coward chases to have what is not theirs
Sit, take out your consciences
Polish, clean out the monstrousness
And put them back
If you can’t, just cut that tail
There are tailless ones who leave this earth unstained with blame
Think, rethink and choose
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 28, 2019


There is a cave deep down this mountain of chaos
Sewn with stones at its entrance by the thread of greed
In there are tears of the broken
In there are the songs of those dumb by fear
Therein lie the youth of troubled children
Oh in there lives the hope of the poor
Their pride hugging their humanity there too
Please, send no vulture to tear the thread of the stone
In spying if they still live
For they have been there too long
That their owners have already performed their funerals
Too bad their dignities also live in that cave
Making their mourning a public affair
To the happy eyes of they who left their consciences as skilled guards
To the precious parts of my beloveds
They who revere in their own strength in hunting humans
And taming them into their faithful dogs
They who are protected by the famished barks of the hungry
Loved by the blind sight of the lost
Worshipped by souls who have lost touch with discernment
And so their perverted laughters walk the street and roam the caves
Butchering maimed souls

Send no hawk in spying if the precious parts of my beloveds liveth
I fear they’d also see the hopelessness and come back
To hunt their chicks
Who are born dishonoured
Send no ant in spying too
I am afraid they might find a little hole to crawl therein
Stealing in bits bites to save for their rainy season
Just send your sword to relieve their necks of the burden of carrying their heavy heads
Heavy heads filled with mounds of tiredness
Sand of shamelessness
Mountains of unrecognized hard work
And sealed with skulls heavily built with metallic manipulations
To believe what once was as what never was
And what is as the norm of chains necessary for ghostly freedom
There will be no blood for a blood bath
So worry not Mantsɛ
You know they’ve all been drained and replaced by diesel of religious dementia
So they will fertilize the land
And the happiness will be in seeing the lords hunger like slophs
As their untrained hands rebel in working
Their currency-pampered feet demonstrate in moving
And their egos cry their fall from crowns to their own feet
End this eyesore Onukpa
And let the land die to live
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 22, 2019


This space
This space beyond fear
This space drained of tears
This space with no claws of penury
This space where different colours of freedom pimp my ride
This space opened to curiosity of carelessness
This space where arms of start-overs stretch
This space debtors slip off to their far falls to a never rising end
This space where ropes for my roboting cut themselves loose
This space where all paths of deceits are blocked
This space where mirrors of pity are extinct
This space where true independence befriends
This space where no eyes hang on skies of superiority
This space of no restrictions
All opening up to a fondness of your gone
Drives me to a point of guilt
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 18, 2019


Not every bee around honey is its producer
Some look to steal, acting among
Not every raised hand is for praise
Some are up to act as trap cues
I can see the mischievous fans
Hiding murderous intentions in fanning
While parcelling love with smiling
Oh you fake fans!
You can try all you can
But the air to kill my fire resides not in your fans!

If my fire were yours to take out
Your sweats wouldn’t need to shout out
Your wrists wouldn’t need to think bouts
Your eyes wouldn’t cry to red out
Your smile wouldn’t brighten to crack out
Your strength wouldn’t rebel to die out
Say what you may
Eyes of your dark record your struggles

It is laughable you know
Strong trees have connived with bored air
To get this fire out and failed
Storms have flirted with seas
To get this fire out but failed
Typhoons have acted foxes to try their luck but miserably failed
Tsunamis have broken seas, killed many important fishes
To get this fire out but oh so failed
Do you think your common fan can out
What its heavenly superiors failed to?
My chuckle hides in sympathy for your pain
Oh I hope frustration tears not the veins of your sanity
In my chase

When I fall looking at you, it is out of my charity
To see you at least feel better
But these bones malleably made will never die in a fall
Not a fall from your push
So fan a whistle with killer rumours
Fan little fires in dry grasses under my care
Try to block my angelic air strengthening my fires
And see if your fan catches not fire
To lynch you out

I am fire only the Lighter can quench
In own day and time
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 15, 2019


If there is a fire that lights the path of mistakes
Surely, fear is its lighter
If there is a wire that electrocutes dreams in pregnancy
Surely fear constitutes its positives and or negatives
If there is a chair in hell
Pushed thither in swiftness
Fear surely has a hand therein
For farfetched fumblings felt for forced fainting is
Feasibly fenced by fear

It hovers
Hovers around wishes like dogs
It hovers
Hovers around hard work like famished lions
It hovers
Hovers around success like untamed monsters
It surrounds
Surrounds will like prison for hardened criminals
So break free

Don’t you?
Don’t you want to open that fearsome gate of your fear
To see what lies within?
Don’t you?
Don’t you want to walk across the threatening fire
To see what lives
What lives and breathes so guarded?
Don’t you?
Don’t you want the freedom of cuffing fear and throwing it
To the jeers that you pursue?
What will be the worst in your trying?
Even death is a cocoon of freedom
Fenced tightly by daunting fear
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 27, 2019

CRACKING THROUGH (For the depressed)

Winds of confusion snake through unseen corners of minds
Throwing dust on enthusiasm in the darkness of loving eyes
Breaking dignities and will to live
All the while working from within to without like a bomb in a living being
Without showing signs on bodies
So let’s beware
Look beyond smiles
And listen through the fine
Care for the supposed cared
And speak to cankers hidden miles within hearts
Take walks with shining stars
To squash lonesomeness hidden in reverence
Hug unreachable souls
And seek some help from psychological experts
Pray only for faith and let God help experts work to save bodies
We need to be alert like hunting lions
To protect our own and help us live
To help us live
Live with each other to our lives fullness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 9, 2019


Aminata thought and thought
Is she to give her youth to this brown leaf
Ready to fall off the tree of life
And watch her green Musa in another’s arms?
The thought brought shivers down her spine
But which weapon of a mouth does she have
To stand on the battlefield of parental war
To reject Mba Salifu, her father’s chosen?
Marry she must but a plan must save
So she did think

The night saw no sleep as she all of it planned
From beneath to the top
Swinging to flinging
Doggying to standying
Fucks after fucks after fucks after fucks
Mba Salifu thought it adorable at first
Then skeptical, then frustratingly fearful!
His home became his hell
Always tiptoeing never to be caught
To be sexually flogged
For there were no mornings in Aminata’s dictionary
She knew not the heat of the afternoons
The serenity of the evenings gingered her on
And the thrills of the night energized her
She was like a bull overworking her master

Wɔi wɔi wɔi wɔi wɔi wɔi wɔi wɔi!
This young lady can push this old tree down the tip of death’s cliff
“I must free this bird so I can peacefully sleep on my bed”
And so it was
In a week plus its second subordination
Blaming his ill health for a parting
She led her like a lamb
Home to the bosom she cherished
To be able to blossom together
Aminata’s mischievous smile hides her answer today
As Musa still questions how she did it
A kiss clears his thoughts always
She will never tell him
She will never tell him about the ammunitionless weapon
Which secretly fought the society and won for them their love
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 3, 2019


(Written at the Genocide Centre in Kigali)
There is a bitter taste in my mouth
Sitting here
Here, where spirits of innocent Tutsi’s fight back tears of their loss
Here, where their few leftovers go and come
Like struck sheep
Still knocked out by degrading shocks
Even after years are nearing their thirty steps
Only my fingers obey my thoughts
My mouth refuses to open

What is this?
Hands of brothers acting on voices of sisters
To murder with clubs and machetes and guns and ropes and fire
As pious rivers were forced to soil themselves by swallowing the innocent?
What brutal forces forced grown men
To throw children like unwanted fruits
Against walls to be horribly deceased?
What deadly seeds grew that anger
Which made sane men hunger for blood of their neighbours?
Which deadly waters served an unquenched thirst
To a point where men took the dignities of women in eyes of carers and
Planted AIDS to germinate bitterness and disgust?
What horrid pills drugged consciences into deep sleep
To create a mess that makes many weep
Just so some egos could dust their needs?

I am torn
Torn in pity
Torn in annoyance
Torn in minds oh so vulnerable
Torn in hurts
Torn in pain
Torn in manipulations oh so insane
Torn in bitterness
Torn in shame
Torn in pieces of climbing shocks
Torn in tears
Torn in fears
Torn by years oh so bonkers!
Weeping for my Africa slashed and butchered
Raped and gunned
Spit on and burnt
Slapped and hanged
My Africa nurtured as brutes and made to work
To dent a history
A history of love!
My Africa whose breath still works even through the torment!

I pray for a border to stop the bother
And a sanity to cancel insanity
I pray for happiness to burn the pain
And a peace refreshner to kill the rage
I pray for a haunting to chase farmers
Of cruelty of us against our ours
I pray for immunization of this hellish genocide
For love to thrive in place of hate
I pray for baits knotted by mischiefs
To turn around to bite hands of their masters
I pray for us to guide our ours
And kill our hunters so known as sires

Never again must this rope stifle us into shedding our greens!
Never again must those machetes
Butcher our fathers and pierce hearts of our brothers!
Never again should we be compelled
Like impoverished merchants
To buy bullets for our firing!
Never again!
Never ever again must we turn penises to rape our women and unright their fate
Never ever again must that dark drown our blackness with its beauty and dignity
Tribe never defined but refined and must so sit to better us in dynamisms
This scar will forever be but must actually remind us
To be soldier ants
Guarding our safety through brotherhood and sisterhood and motherhood and fatherhood
Long live Rwanda!
Long live the continent!
Long live the Africa who has seen and felt it all!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 7, 2019


We are here
A stop from the suppression there
Like the lost freshly liberated
We are here
Knowing not what is fair
Like a set of fowls in hungry-hawk-city

We are here
A hop from the crying square
Like bloodied and maimed warriors
We are here
Still fumbling and walking bare
Like toddlers

Through storms of hurricanic dollars
The cedi battles
Through fits of political schemers
Our peace wins on tickets of democracy
Through tornadoes of academic manipulation
Our scholars soldier on
Isn’t it great that we are under our loving umbrella
Whirlwinds before storms before tsunamic corruptions?
Oh we are loving
Loving through it all
Our memories acting as temporary slates
Our dense problems always fading like sick entertaining jokes

Today let’s celebrate
Kente on Kete
Fugu on Jera
Skilled muscles on agbadza
Mmari-ntama on ahenema
As fufuo and abɛnkwan wait on mastery stomachs
Tuo and ayoyo wait on warrior intestines
Ampesi and abomu wait on skilled teeth
Ɛtiw and mfantse-mfantse wait on brave throats
As akple and fetri-detsi look forward to smooth rides through happy throats
Forget not the nsa-fufuo
Nor the pito talk less of brukina and lamugin
Oh we’re so winning so let’s so celebrate!

We know we are pensioner-toddlers
Biting ourselves where it hurts
Mishandling our flowers of development
And squashing fruits of our success stories
But we’ll figure all out
And get there
Where sense stubbornly dwells
We will adorably get there
Through dreams and hurts
As fleas or eagles
As dogs or lions
We will figure it all out
As we journey through
Just as Gold Coasted us into Ghanaians
For we dwell on freedom
And ride on justice
Long live Sikaman!
Long live Ghana!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 6, 2019


Mark it
You, you and you
Who have used my most precious thing
As tool to shoot my pride
Your hands will clap at the rebellion of your heart
Soon, very soon
When the world asks that you stand
To give me a heroine’s welcome

Mark it
You, you and you
Whose teeth jubilate at my fall
Your smile will painfully be fucked in mouth tearing
When I stand there
Where the spotlight felicitatiously shines
Making your smile imperative
I can’t wait to see that smile that digs bile in your mouth
As you give me a heroine’s welcome

Tell them
Tell he, she and they
Whose tongues happily wag at the storms
Which robot my dance of shame that
Very soon
Those tongues would be forced to carry my best parts
And hawk to convince the already convinced world in a buying
Just to feel belonged
In my heroine’s welcome

Tell them
Tell he, she and they
That my sun has risen under these clouds
Oh tell them
Tell those legs helping hands to wake the sleeping
To see the pain I wear
That a moon hurries to this darkness
A sun waits to replace it when it works and tires
And when it finally appears
All yous giggling in twos
Will rise in a painful ovation
Yes, a very painful ovation
To give me a heroine’s welcome
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 21, 2019