I know mouths of my land are like machine guns
Digging bullets of the past
Putting them in golden throat guns
Soiling voices meant for firing monsters
And firing through
Gunning for hardworkers
And yelling into international microphones
Their unfortunate past
Seeking sucking sympathies
While real works stare our faces
Like infants needing their parents’ embrace
Why lions are now dogs
And eagles are now flies
As owls turn hidden frogs
Abena, I know not
Mother Ghana has been made a whore
A whore by the very people she accomodates
And gives life
Legs moulded in such great effort
Now bow in front of the supposedly rich
Looking for crumbs of their bread
When we hoard the flours in purity
Fie on you
Fie on me
Fie on the fragments that fail to merge
Fie on greed
Fie on seeds
Fie on us seeds who fail the creed
Bow thy heads in red
Covering in black
And mourn your dead zeals for the top
Don’t be
You have all the power to wake the dead
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)


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