THRONE OF KINGS

No matter how tight
A rope ties a tree
In order to see the face of the sky
In ambitions to tie the sky
To see the heavens
It coils back to hug
The head of the tree
After realizing the sky gives no ladder

II
We of the “dumsor”clan
Danced to the disco rhythms
Of electrical phantography
Until we realised the disk jockey
Was a cute self slaughtered but very kicking dead goat
On the throne of kings

III
Did we not see?
Did we not see male legs kicking caked balloons
Digging gold blocks in the midst of dust
As that of female legs yawn in digging
Until sympathising mouths call for their compensation?

IV
Did we not watch as goats carried yams
And walked into chambers of gargantuan courtal gods
To trash cases which call for heads of their carriers
As innocent hearts are whipped into public guilt?

V
Blood of the innocent
Have cried in their wrongness
A Gyan rapeness
Turned wrong in silliness
The Nelson Vigil
Showered its host with victimization
Even a Wisa dangled his accursed cucumber
For tongues to wag on its dreary secret

VI
The dumsor king
Promised his throne
But found a way to keep it
In the dying minute of his timed promise
We of the golden belt
Ghana “mma” have seen it all
Waiting to be dazzled by the screens of 2016
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WISHES AND HORSES

I am cooking wishes
Whose dishes
Need to clear hisses
And shut disses
Growing horses to give me kisses
And correct my misses

II
I want to be like a bright and lucky sun
One whose clouds clear at dawn
To give way to its brightness
To bless its times
Burn its sluggish subjects
And embrace all hearts
When it is time to leave
Exuding serenity
Exuding elegance
Exuding maturity for its end times
As I exit in fondness of hearts
On the wishes turned horses
And cross my losses
In the sanity of fallibility
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

COOL OR CRUEL CONTINUUM?

Lying like a soft egg left to cool

The airs mould for stamina and or tombila

Sitting with curtains of innocence

Blinding hurdles, cuddles, muddles, struggles

Like a light tent pregnant with a child

But seeking war with wild winds

Few more breaths held legs and hands

And injected them with the strength of mobility

Putting mind to the test to distinguish murderers

From helpers while mentoring eyes take their nap

Crawling gods mark their exams

Sign their tests and make requests

In their quests to graduate fours onto twos

Then knees shiver with quivers of low confidence

Loving the tests, fearing its failures in fall

Occasional falls teach acts of rising

Until feet prompt of tiredness

And call for all to join in to gun for the tent which shields destinies

Walkings smile at their births

Tearing tents of innocence like their enemies

With every breath

Every ring of the bell of seconds

With every step of the leg of minutes

Every shift of the buttocks of hours

Into days and months and years

This cycle of continuum crochets into clothes of cruelty

And or comfort

It seems like the peppery massage of imperialism

Dodging is no option

And regrets either coil or become the champion which rules

Until breaths decide to leave the cowardly bodies to fall

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

 (Photo Credit: www.planetozkids.com)

THE DEATH OF DEATH

When I hear the death of death
I shall be a worthy ghost
One lower spirits will fail to host
And higher spirits will use to boast
As satisfaction sits like a queen on my coast
Watching pain roast
Like a live coward losing breath

II
When I do hear news of the death of death
I will lose my muddy tan
And get out of the assigned death can
Where the dead death might have me ban
And used my shadow like a fan
Shutting my inner voice with a gun
To lay hold on my breath

III
This breathless rest
And immobile conquest
This cold heated breast
With no mouth to suckle or fight in stress
This dark unknown actor or actress
Who takes in fortress
We crossers will watch with eagle eyes
What shall be of your evil end
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

ODD ORDER

The compass
Did come to pass
Amidst the chaos of sinful bass
And the hellwind of confused gas
Which nature has come to has

II
Now there is a peace storm
A non-conforming form
Sublime chaos
Surrealistic realism
Bad-good consciences
Archiac modernity
And like a mystic order
An earthly sun
Drawing in sky dust

III
Papa’s past pose pure pain
Stealing sanes so saints strain
Bugging bears bought bright to beat
And train tormentors to taunt and tear
This horrid confused order!
Very odd
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

CHRIST’S MASK

I have hind eyes
Which see behind masks of Christ
Masks wrapping traditional spirits
Like prized gifts
Giving them out as miracles
For those who hate their very essence
Chai!

II
I see behind these masks
Faces of greed masked
With appeals for the Lord
When I see monies needed for needs dire
Walking into coffers of greedy hands
Knowing they are lifesavers
Turned into materialistic pimps
To upgrade some mischievous hearts
I grind my teeth like a corn miller
Oh these masks of Christ!!!

III
I see under these masks of Christ
Mouths of lust parading as preachers
To take off pants of piety
To finger holes waiting on the Lord
With fake prophesies
Chai! These masks of Christ!!!

IV
What about faces with minds of manipulations
Masked with Christ-like godliness
Thinking God can be bribed
Because he created the order of bureaucracy?
All their eyes see are the heavens
Stepping on toes to create their paths
Watching their lives pass them by
Causing hearts dedicated to them to fall into pits of bitterness
Chai! Masks of Christ!!!

V
Alluring atrocities
Human hearts turned lion claws
Hymnal leaves turned cruel machetes
Cutting down future souls
At the slightest blow of air
Masks of deception
Masks of attraction
Masks of attacks
Masks of oppression
Masks of negative ambitions
Masks of Christ!!!
Can’t wait for your boss to put you in prosecuting boxes
For masking His name in such horrors
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

YEAR ON ENDS

As days walk into months
And months walk into years
Hands of growth lengthen
Into beauty and ugliness
Deeds are born
As others die no matter their impacts
Dreams are birthed into mystic boxes
And hang like dew
Which needs to be conjured on a mountain top
After climbing steps of hardwork
Every step of a second
Demands the movement of muscles
Pure panting
Serious stepping
Clearing chaos
Churning clevers
Breaking borders
Beating bouncers
Until we meet another door of year
Or exit
Challenging and cruel
But pushers of breaths
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

BABY STEPS

Sorrowful happiness
Painless tears
Heavenly gentleness
Bloody cheers
Like food doped in bitter sweetness
Erasing hunger fears
Innocent blood which earth tasted
Were justified
Christ Jesus set His foot
On our messy paths
To clean

II
The server
Deserver
The driver
Turned us observers
The clever
Decided to save us
Happy cheers
A seer of years
Knowing after it happens
Over and over again
Gives such great relief
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

SATAN’S LINGUIST SPEAKS

As Ananse weaves his nest
So will I weave these words given to me in simple terms
Well, many claim to be holy spirits
So seek out their Marys in the physical
Ably aided by “Waist and Power”
Hopefully, they aim at digging wells
In their Marys who also deserve to carry wells
To feed the thirst of their bodies
As their tongues are like heated saucepans
Needing anything to cook
Their tummies becoming their prized garbage can
Accepting it all
And their lands; their pay checks
Ready to be sold for digging
Satan says to tell you
He won’t take any blame
None at all
Not for STIs
Not for artificial Jesuses
Not for swindling
Not for demolishings of marital walls
None at all

II
Like an ant
All must eat
Those who eat like vultures
Must know they have no audience like vultures do
Even hyenas make dumpsters
So look all you like
As long as a grass hopper
Does not seek to dress painted like a butterfly
When rains sometimes descend sky lands warningless
Only to sell itself into debt
Owing legs  which crash in anguish
Satan says to tell you
It will take no blame
No matter how hot your hands can be
After robbing it together
Light the sky all you want
It won’t take no blame
None at all

III
Those who turn fishes
And swim even at night
If even fishes drown in their waters
Be careful
Satan says to tell you
He won’t take blame for your death
He won’t take any spiritual gunshots
From your families
Neither will he take traditional firings
So look before you leap

IV
For those who are like centipedes
Dancing even without music
While living in the anus of villages
Satan says to tell you
He won’t take any blame
Not for shattering hymens
Not for enlarging wells
Not for missing things
Not for missing parts
Not for missing breaths
Let alone take the hatred of those who failed to set you right

V
For those who think happiness
Dwells in bottles
Or questionable leaves
And powders
And or needles
Satan says not this time
He won’t take blame for your sanity
So you can go ahead and light your noses
Like rat holes
Or make those noses bowls hosting and dispensing powdered doughs
Or your veins channels of poisonous waters
As long as you write your caretakers those letters
Of exoneration

VI
Like a megaphone
His words have sounded
Like a travelling sea
His words have flowed
Like a better Ananse
I know I clearly wove the nest
The nest he requested
So do all you please
Leaving him out in harvest of your planted problems
Lest he visits with a thunderous curse
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE HEAVENLY ROMANCE

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When I was told
The holy spirit conceived with virgin Mary
As a child, I was not sorry
My fantasy vehicle took off
With a very dressed holy spirit
Scenting himself with a very alluring lavender
Which captivated his love interest
And made him the moon
Which made her swoon
I thought their hands sparked
At a touch
As they danced
Dined
Loved
Then on his knees he proposed
And Mary gleefully accepted
The heavenly marriage took place
And baby Jesus was conceived
On the very night of the honeymoon
As the angels sang and flapped their wings

Chorus
The hurt God
Who is so compassionate
Sent his seed
Through the holy spirit
Into the holy virgin Mary
And has planted in his womb
Halleluia,  Halleluia,
Halleluia
Hope still reigns

II
Oh I grew and knew
Romance was few
As the holy spirit flew and knew her
In the business of God’s orders
And did give Mary the honour
With which came shame
Fornication to the minds of the ordinary
Exaltation to higher minds
And God wiped the shame
And replaced it with fame
As the angels sang

Chorus
It is a travel that Jesus took
One none can’t help but marvel
As his birthing booked
He laid and formed
To calm the storms
And travelled safely
In Mary’s womb
Halleluia
Halleluia
Halleluia
Hope still reigns

III
So Jesus sailed to King Herod’s shores
On the cool boat and sea of the virgin Mary
The angels glowed and to shepherds announced
Ones who followed to pay respect
To their spiritual king
Who laid in the stables
And superceeded the king of his new world
Will Herod heed
To the voice of fate?
Oh no he wouldn’t
So hunted the higher creation
Like a pesty mouse
Oh the angels watched
Sent a message for his safety
And did prayerfully sing

Chorus
None can block
One to lead the flock
For in great stock
Is divine protection
A great direction
Lies in store
Cos he’s the lamb
To save us all
2x Halleluia
Halleluia
Halleluia
Hope still reigns

Oh Halleluia
Bless his name
Halleluia
Hope still reigns

Halleluia
Christ is born
Halleluia
Hope still reigns

Halleluia
We’re so saved
Halleluia
Hope still reigns

Oh Hallelu hale Halleluia
Halle luuuuuu ia
Hope still reigns
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

ROMANCING CHRISTMAS, SEBITICALLY

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This is one programme you can’t afford to miss. “We’d be thrilled if you would join an intimate convergence of Accra’s tastemakers in an encounter of sizzling literature, GH humour & yuletide cheer as the kitchen at PaJohn’s titillate your palate with gastronomic delights decadently drenched in spirits and local spices… all for just ghC90 per person & ghC160 per couple.

5pm . Monday, December 28, 2015

PaJohn’s …the capital’s secluded destination for avant-garde lounging & dining
No. 1, 2nd Kade Close, Kanda Estates, Accra.

RSVP
0244704250 . 0264339066
0244697046 . 0266203828”
It is a night full of “sebitical promises”

THE LAUNCH OF THE AUTISM SOCIETY OF GHANA (ASOG)

Today, December 22, 2015, at the Coconut Grove Regency Hotel in Accra, there will be a launch of the Autism Society of Ghana (ASOG). It will start at 10am and it is aimed at creating awareness,  sharing knowledge and support for persons affected by autism.
The guest speaker will be the Honourable Dzifa Gomashie (Deputy Minister of Tourism, Culture and Creative Arts) and guest of honour will be Prof. Gladys Amponsah who is the Past President of West Africa College of surgeons. Please be there to lend your support. All are invited.

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PIPING PLEA

We on your highest port
Do your mighty pardon seek
We, like mere goods to board
Pray you strengthen our bones so weak

II
We, who are your fingers’ mould
Seek your mighty hand to hold
We, so lost, like some foolish sheep
Do call on your merciful powerful guide

III
We hide
When we must your loving guide abide
We cry
When your gentle waves do chide
We rebel
When we feel we’ve lost your side
But your loving compass, to lead
Does always show
Like the blessed star no matter how long it takes
So please and please
Help our problems bake
Into the loving breads we sure can take
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

JESUS’ BABY SHOWER

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After knowing that Christ will be born
What are your preparations
You who have turned
Sons
Daughters
Brothers
Sisters
Mothers
Fathers
Grandparents
And still see baby Jesus as your saviour?

II
Like the three Shepherds
Do you seek gifts
For the young chap
Or for your mere frame for fame
Or to impress mirrors of lustful eyes?
Even you have ample time of knowledge
Than those shepherds caught out of cottages
You knew of His conception
Long before old adages
From your savage sages
Those you always use the name of the would be baby
To arrest like robbers
To bind like aggressive mad men
To cast like cursed gold nuggets
Into seas of evilness

III
Now what goes into His baby shower?
Do you buy expensive pomades
Or expensive clothes?
Expensive perfumes
Or expensive cradles?
Build expensive houses
Or expensive cars
For the baby to be
Who will pay our fees?
Isn’t it funny that stable born
Gets all the attention in name
While all gifts are made into selfish clothes
For ourselves?
A touch of make-up
A smoothie pomade
The scent of heaven
A foreign fabric
Classy cars
And classy partners
To show to the baby in the manger of poverty
Sad

IV
What about His birth
Makes him a party animal?
What about His life
Is worth the drunken stupor?
What about His gain
Makes us insane?
The seas will gobble many down their throats
The roads will chew many like ‘nkyewie’
Vehicles will grind many like pepper
Materialism will handcuff many like thieves
Jealousy will fry many like ‘kaklo’
Into prisons of shame to tame
To reflect and generate blame
But another year will be same
And all for the baby born and kept
In the bedroom of many a sheep
Naming ceremony turned party for death to hunt
Mourning celebrations
What Irony!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015
(‘Nkyewie’ is an Akan word for roasted maize, ‘kaklo’ is an Akan word for fried mashed ripe plantain. Photo Credit, google pics)

WAKE YOUR FOREFATHERS (Crazy Stanzas) EXCERPT

(FOR THOSE IN THE DIASPORA)
If you fear overtakings
Because the foundations of your birthings
Shake like the grounds
Being walked on by elephants uncountable
Take no guns to bully the blacks
Wake your forefathers
Wake them from their accursed graves
To send them back to their roots
To make them the royals they were born to be
To give them the identities they lost to serve
To give them the paths that years erased
Then like a myth
They will vanish from your sights

II
If you feel wronged to live with them
Forget not their forefathers
Who were grinded like black vegetables
And appeared red like grounded pepper
For their juices of hardwork to garnish
The wealths which make you walk like peacocks
In a pagent with baboons …
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

GUILT TRIPS

Clips of slips
Drips of flips
Grips of ribs and hips
Rips of lips
When shame sits
Like a loser-king
In your mind
Pounding like a slave
Who lost a golden stamp

II
Craves for braves
Waves of graves
Long of strong
Gongs for belongs
When the conscience holds whips
Like a crazy teacher in revenge
His whips, his machete
Your body, his tree
Lord knows the unseen marks
The skin will document
Corrective doomers
Sweet on the world
A brain bomb
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

FOODS OF SEGREGATION

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It is appalling
Very shocking
What is served on various plates
In various cups
For young ones to feed into growth
Based on the physical
When there is no green blood

II
Whitemen serve foods of superiority
Water of black inferiority
Dessert of black boycotting
And pay for excercise for black annihilation
Sowing seeds of cruel masters
Who need to take possession of their slaves
In order to maintain their lands
When their royalties have jurisdictions
And their fates of zones are uncertain until growth
What at all is the reason?

II
Black people serve appetizers of white discrimination
Serve foods of white’s unfair treatment
Serve dessert of white danger
Forcing bitter waters of low self confidence down their throats
And tutor their young to be good planters
Of hurts and good harvesters of hatred
To force them to grow bombs of aggression
What at all do we aim for?

III
Could it be that minds need to make this habitat
A place for dogs hunting for same female?
Where one has to hurt to surrender
Or die to make the winner ascend the throne of a hole?
If so, who will be the prizes?
When men and women have their hands on deck
Standing like porcuppines shooting their opponents

IV
Why has this gotten so bad?
So bad that even Indians who tasted dominance
Call blacks out in dirt
As half eyed beings bring out their whips
Thinking themselves better
Last time I checked
Only one skin stands out in unattainment
Wait, that is no trait for hatred
But a trait to treasure
So why the pleasure to control measure?

V
Could it be a section must extinct
For a section to be sole livers?
If so then who has the right
To be left here?
Whether donkeys or monkeys
Whether pigs or sticks
Whether dumb or intelligent
Only the moulder of breaths must decide
STOP THIS!!! You nothings!!!
And feed your youngs some real food
To grow sane
It is just a road
For all to ply
This life
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

PLEASE DO NOT GO TO SLEEP

Please do not go to sleep
Open your eyes and do me keep
When trouble alarms start to beep
And danger waters whisper thirst for their mouths so deep
As forces of negativity aim straight with their jeep
In my thoughts which aim to command a leap
Open the doors of positivity and help me peep
So my peep can help my keep
As you find ways to help me reap
The harvest of victory and stop my weep
Make a balm of strength for my pores to embrace its seep
Because if God does keep
You, my angel, are His veep
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

STRUCK

I thought I was Kwaku Ananse
I had it all together
After having the wisest Asante men learn from me
To clothe themselves beautifully
So hid and struck intruders
Showed and flawed the confident
Worked to uproot the rude
Who acted like “kwabenani atu ata”
Knowing not a master planner lurked
One unaffected by nothing
Not my craft
Nor my danger
Not my seclusion
Nor my drive
And could shake off my intimidations
Like untainting dirt on an unsoilable cloth
Torn between Russia and nearness
This heart feels the heat of a fall
It feels the strain of ripping a heartful heart apart
It feels the danger of breaking a godlike figure
By a force that forces him to need to break me
Like an untamed horse
Only to want me placed in a queenly seat
One who could never be
I keep musing to myself
One who must not be
I keep telling myself
One who should not be
But one whose net seems to have caught
All the right words of combat out of me
It is a hurricane closing in on a little tsunami
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

UNSCARING (Crazy Stanzas)

I need a huge favour
A favour to savour
To savour forever
From the mountains with all the voices
Where my half hanged
Until it met the egg of my host

II
It is a coast I have come to love
But a ghost which is so towering above
I need the favour of release
Release of my wings
Without bruised hearts
Stroking bruised minds
As bruised minds push bruised egos
To shut me down
As a cancerous witch worth eliminating
Or like a deadly plague
Worth blood to uproot

III
Now my favour to savour
Can I be left to fly
Deep into the sky
And have shoulders who will not cry
But host my touch down
Without thinking me thief of their crown?

V
Can I be left to sail
Hit,  learn, hurt and kill my wail
By having hands to heal my pale
And have words walk out of a gentle mouth
To head me to an enlightened south?

V
Oh a favour I need
One which will grow my seed
And eliminate thoughts to concede
When life steps on my searching tail

VI
May I get this favour to savour?
One which will not transform my image into a hungry lioness-like stance
And cause fright for all to jump heights
No matter how deadly?

VII
If only xylophones of strength
Will stop mating ears of power
And fingers of egos will stop stroking needs of submission
Then I could have my favour to savour
And cause no quiver which needs deliverance
Oh sweet pain of pinky dreams
Shut down by haunting blues of hues!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THIS AIR

This air
Blowing me here
Blowing me there
Are you being fair?

II
This air
Giving all your share
Of fraustration for me to bear
Are you being fair?

III
That I am dust
Makes me no just
My lightness is not your lust
Water for me is now a must

IV
What will you say?
If I get water to pay
And it offers its belly to lay?
All the bumping and jumping will certainly lay
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

BELIEVING IN DOUBT

I believe in doubt
No matter how much disadvantages shout
I love to the taunts of bouts flout
No matter how long prides pout
Because no matter how stout
Fear stands, I know I will rout
Like a responsible traditionalist, I fail to flout
Even if horrors turn my gout
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

CHRISTMAS HORRORS

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Youngsters are dreaming of Santa
Their block of heavenly gifts in counter
Elders are thinking of barter
As delicious animals think of how discriminatory Jesus’ birth is
So pray in chants
For the slaughter of all machetes
Just as saucepans pray
For all fires to taste their heats
So their bruised minds will quench themselves
To save their asses
Drinks dream of their journeys through throats
At least rum, whisky and apios know
They will burn their routes a little in revenge
Such varied expectations
For same celebration
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

IN THIS VERY WAKE

In this very wake
Some elephants are uprooting grass
Like angry farmers battling weeds
Under their precious crops
The only difference
Is they don’t turn back
To gather, eat or mulch
All they desire is to pass and kill with no apologies

II
In this very wake
Some antelopes feel their boneless grinds
In the mouths of lionesses and their youngs
Like they are their properties
To be used as they please
They do feel wronged and forget
The very grasses
Which grazed their tongues
And fed their growth
To be what they are in the canines of their brutal hosts

III
In this very wake
Dogs are howling at passing souls
Like thieves who have no reasons to ply earth
Forgetting they disturb the angry peacefuls
Who hover to flee
As eyes of their beloveds open in shutness
To their very essence
Well, one can give them credit
For making some thieves think
And scaring others off
Oh some must be pitied for joining those unseeables they bark off

IV
In this very wake
Some cats smooch the grounds
As cold holds through their furs and bite their fleshes
As others smooch their blankets
Some smooch their kinds like flirty guitars
As some are being smooched by higher fingers
Who seek other fingers but fetch the furs
As their yearnings linger
Great secret keepers they are
So they do deserve some pardon from Efos’ saucepans
And peace from puppet laddles
But who asked their meat to be tender and sweet
For the number nines who are great teachers and recruiters?

V
In this very wake
Some minds cry for rest
But gain chaotic peace for worries unneeded
Other minds rest peacefully
Occasionally being tapped to look for unfindable remedies
For their rested neighbours
Other minds can’t take the taunts and haunts
So drag their neighbours to wither for eternal peace

VI
In this very wake
Mouth of the earth tries to shut its eyes
And gag itself
But none of that is possible
As it has no lids
And has no voice
But they are happy lovers of all movies
Because of the bribe to taste it all
The good, the bad
The happy, the sad
The sane, the mad
And all that breathes have had
Now dawn shares their breezes with crowing cocks
In this very wake
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

TOUCHED

Under starful skies
With many my mindless sighs
And many a boozing sessions
He looked into my eyes
Touched my cold cheeks like his goddess
And with a strained voice
Confessed
“I love you a bit tipsy
I see no building of intimidation
Which craves for bombs and guns to break
I can come close to touch
Without a missile from your iris
And fire from your pupils
And I don’t have to watch my words
How can a very little being posses such power
To make me shiver and love to roll on a river
No matter my quiver?”
He might have thought me drunk
To be that bold to say
Such words which crash the male ego
Being the first coming from one so matured and exposed
I let him win
By pating him on the back
Like the lost son who just returned
For above all his aim to please
This is the one night he succeeded
Thinking me in my drunken stupor
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

LET’S HAVE THAT DANCE

First, hold my left hand

And let’s together stand

Pull me like an egg on a little plate to you

And with your right hand

Feel my heart

Close your eyes

Think of your heartbeats

See if you have or have had the same rhythm

Put on your sage hat

And let’s dance

II

I am the hen with wings of an eagle

The bull with the wisdom of an ant

I am the fly with the body of an elephant

The tsunami with the gentle touch of a cool breeze

I am the full sun with the heat of sunrise

The huge sea with many paths to great others

I am a mountain climbable to bless eyes with visions

I am a simpleton with many complexities

Still let’s dance

III

I have a skirt with a hole worth dying to chase

I have a brazier with soft moulds worth searching to play

I have a waist so cool worth diamonds for hands to sway

I do have a mouth, toffee-like, delicious from a distance

Not to talk of eyes with deep waters of talents

And hearts of many nations

Still let’s dance

IV

Now picture your soul in what your ears have served

Standing in the mirrors of all eyes

Being perceived as a decoration

A nothing

A washing machine

A cooking pot

A door mat

A thing like a blame can

A punching bag

Take not your hand,

Continue feeling the heart, still with your eyes closed

And let’s dance on

Now tell yourself how it feels

And be like the external who talks to the internal wise

Now let’s go on a spinning spree

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Photo Credit: Google pics

SAVE ME

A hand of the mind in the hands of the holy
A hand of the mind in the hand of the devil

All eyes see is a tranqil and cute creation
A catalyst of oppression helping the latter
A loser of conscience backing the former
I am a chaos in storm
A weak pillar in a fierce tsunami
I am like a metal oven
Too hot even on the outside
Please save me!

I have not much to say

Please save me

For whatever I have to pay

Please save me, I am in a bottomless pit

And see a faint ray

Please save me!!!
Save me whoever is fair!!
Save me please
Help get me to the safest part
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

SKIN OF THE EARTH

We are like a little herd of land
Parading ungratefully on her face
Spitting, digging, rigging and deficating
Into her mouth
Looking down upon her toil
Slapping many parts to spoil their coil
Heating parts to mostly boil
As many animals use them as foil
Soil

II
We erupt volcanic hurts
Caring not her skin does us feed
It does us shelter
It does us carry
And clothes our beings
The earth is our mother
Our mother whose teeth never cave in
And never complains of helplessness
But we need a thoughtful force
To help her know our hearts
Our hearts which never show
By protecting her fineness
For by protecting her
We protect us
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

A TURKEY FROM TURKEY

I know a turkey from Turkey
Who thinks Thanksgiving and Christmas are red and dark
Their final destinations are so murky
That they find no way to their presence mark

II
The turkey complained about usurpers in Turkey
And how they colonised them in charm
And threw their beauties in the murky
To spice their grinders of perpetual harm

III
“Turkeys in Turkey
Are planning soupies murky
For all non-flyers who wish them harm”
Says Turkish turkey
Now let all Turks relax
The turkey from Turkey is all corrupt
And their murky soups are doses of enlightenment
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

TIME ON WHEELS

I am just a visitor thrown to tour

 I want to use patience to view and store

The beauties of life and feel its happiness to the core

But time’s wheels come to the fore

II

It runs like hell’s flame is in a craze

Leaving me like a hawk in an eagle’s daze

On wheels of a demon which will eventually all faze

To a shadow like me who aims to gaze

III

I need to get off your crazy car

And see if I can with life be par

But you have me in your tight horrid bar

Which promises to take me way beyond far

IV

Even when I nap

You give no clap

And when I rap

All you do is slap

Get me off your god damned trap!!!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Photo Credit: Google Pics

PAN AFRICAN ANGST (EXCERPT)

There is a Pan African anger

Which has created many an avenger

So much they want a changer

With one body, they work like a fate arranger

They curse the foreign endanger

And say their faith is our freedom exchanger

And our old gods imprisoned for their baby in the manger

Who is a complete stranger

And dipped our land in danger

To make us their stooging strangers

II

They seek out the buried kola

Dig out broken calabashes…

Promising to mend their fabrics

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Photo Credit: www.thoughtworks.com

WHEN THE TRANQUILS ARE TOUCHED

Lying cool under the shaded sky

Like the almost dead who knows no pain

It gives no clue as to what is new

Until the sky sends its tears by

Not only are her eyes detected

Her hands and legs kick

As their complaints are heard from far

Oh what can happens 

When tranquil waters are touched!

II

Lying cool under the shaded sky

Like a foolish bloodless animal

It sheds no quill as to what it feels

Until pickaxes dig with their mouths to its skin rig

Then you hear the sound of pain

From the mouth of the earth

Even the rains cause it to shake its head

With sounds unnatural

Oh what can happen

When tranquil lands are touched!

II

If hands or sticks

Hit not the surface of the drum

It cries not

Then again, its cries can be skilfully made

To move feet in directions desirable

Its opposite and we have a deafening disaster

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHERE LOVE HAS BROUGHT ME

Eno Adwoa-Okua
Please cross the ancestral line
And put your sleepy buttocks
On my shocked seat
And listen
I am so interested in what you will have to say to this one

II
An Adam claims I am his Eve
Says something about dancing in front of the naked skies
Drinking the virgin dew of the day
And dining on mattress of grass
As if that is not enough
He added that he is a lion
And fears the fact that I am a cat
So will definitely teach me some tricks
So I can protect myself from hyenas
As that will give him peace

III
Nana
Just look at these bones
These bones which fear to even bond
I think he wants a nice way to break them
A nice way to hurt me
Do I play with hyenas?
Do I play to be played?
Why would a Goliath want to play karat with an Adwoa Smart?
I am like a scared little shadow
Following a careless owner
I am bumping into stones
I fear to look at my sores
But miraculously, I still have none
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHEN HARMATTAN STRIKES

When harmattan strikes
Most trees are barbered
As seas stand still
As though their god’s national anthem
Is playing through a Sharia law-microphone with hidden cameras

II
When harmattan strikes
Ovaries of trees are cleared for fertility
As their foetuses battle
For the waters of life
In order to live their seasons
Caring not about those they pushed
Into the graves of mulching and ashes

III
When harmattan strikes
Heads of beings turn into legs
As bathing starts from struggling toes
As if they have not enough problems of their own
Tasting all colder realms before the others

IV
When harmattan strikes
African soils walk with raised shoulders
Defeating legs by embossing their unshakable tattoos
Handshaking handkerchiefs and merging to become their husbands
Cursing mouths to wince when water chases
Having their revenge by the attack of dryness and unusual whiteness
Knowing shea butter or vaseline
Are naturally attracted to their charm
And will eventually call

V
When harmattan strikes
Some poor dying plants
Risk being visited by hells of fires
Knowing their ghosts might wander for eternity
As their very roots are uprooted
Even rats are not safe in their in-built houses
As itching teeth hold huge sticks
Ordering stooges of dogs to hunt their tunnels

VI
When harmattan strikes
It breaks many rules
Causing many weak breathers to perish
Leaving many memories uncherishable with few to cherish
When winter strikes
Even noses become tunnels for irritating phlegms
As coughs turn chests into drums
Birthing horrible mucus
How nauseating!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

CRITICAL PRAYER

Ye gods of the land
Open your hidden eyes
And take these feathers
Almost stripped of its skin
To distill your ears
To hear the prayers I pour
Through the ‘nsafufuo’ my meek calabash has to give
And help the land respond ‘ewie!’
To all the points of prayer

II
Let the evil fishes in all seas
Drown like helpless cats
To rid their realm off the pain of misfortunes
So the mirrors of good
Can be clear to show reflections of untainted hands

III
Let the vampire birds in all skies
Suffocate by higher airs
To rid the big mirrors
Of the fog that blinds
So eyes can see clearly
Faces of the workable
Confiscate their wings
To strengthen the weak but capable

IV
Let the heat in the skin of the earth
Cook the pests which hide within
So your names will be as pure
As the morning dew
So your parades can be few
And on pleasurable cue
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

ANGELS (PERSONAL CINQUAIN)

Asabea Asihene

good, kind and intelligent beyond measure

giving, loving and guiding

she makes feelings like treasures

Sexy Yaa

II

Shirley Banafoe

strong, loving, forgiving

shielding from the biting ring of the world’s cold

bringing warmth where fear breeds

Naa Agowa

III

Dr. Arthur

soft, feminine, pleasant

guiding in matrimonial heritage

bringing hope where stubbornness once laid

Nana Ama Pokuah

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Help! St. Monica’s Anglican JHS in Need

 

The St. Monica’s Anglican Junior High School is a school at Bonwire, the home of the famous kente cloth of Asantes. The school has 98 students  with two classrooms and one uncompleted classroom (a little above foundation level). It has no staff common room, no office for the headteacher and the most important things they need are desks for students. It is so bad that some of the students have to sit on the bare floor in order to sit for their exams. When amoafowaa.com visited, there were no chairs for teachers to sit on even during recess.image

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Since it is situated in a tourist site and serves many children from the small community, it is imperative to help them build this school to standard.

THE POOR BEAUTIFUL ONION

She was beautiful at birth

Plumpy to perfection

With promissory juice

And was as fresh as the morning dew

Then it caught its owner’s eye

He searched frantically for its DNA

Which required he peeled her

So he peeled

And peeled

And peeled

And peeled

Until it reached the bottom of its lifespan

There was no sign of a shoot for replacement

It was then it dawned

He should have allowed it to grow to old age

And rot in order to give him what he needed

Dawning of dreary dawns depresses and depletes sorries

Sad

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(Picture by Google pictures)

DUMMY CHAT WITH GOD

God
Please don’t be bored
This chest does many questions hoard
It is just time they show on your board

II
What do you prefer?
Hymns like tall airs forcing deep roots to tap
And heads of tall grasses to sway?

IIb
Or praise songs monster-gangster-like
With clap like Satanic palms

Slapping the cheeks of fresh fallen angels

In revenge for their longer shine?

III
Or worship songs like potent aphrodisiac
Which creates filthy and yearning goosebumps
Sizes of mountains on disciplinarians
Who deem perverts cancerous to this world of ours?

IV

Or could it be instrumentals?

Ones which force shut even eyes of doubting Thomases

And cage voiced mimes

In the throats of the captivated?

V

Or could it be songs by solo singers

Whose voices are nasal chorded

Like wind-pipes of huge and tired vehicles

Calling for the attention of their deaf drivers?

VI

Or do you prefer those songs which appear during sermons

When frog-like voices of preachers croak like hell chases

As loud shoutings like angry thunders

Strike through their vocal chords shooting heads with aches? 

VII

Please God

Just tell it to me

The one you do prefer, so I can see

And know thy preference oh Lord!

VIII

Because the deaf cannot hear the tunings of his voice

The dumb cannot sing any chorus to you

Those with no hands can never clap during your praises

Neither can those without legs jump up and down in your dance

Are they doomed to disqualification from thy kingdom?

IX

Where do you live?

In hearts or in churches?

In seas or in mountains?

In the heavens or beneath the earth?

You are one mythical shadow

One the lenses of the sun fail to capture

What is thy trick oh God?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(Photo Credit: Google pics)

THE DRINKING SPOT

Tables and couple chairs
Host couples behaving like fake old clothes posing as new

II
Other couples truly bask in the shores of love
Knowing not the sharks and snakes awaiting in the deep waters
Waiting to give them a chase

III
Faces of the young feeding fat on pockets of orangutans
Hide under gargantuan glasses in the already faint frowning light
As their hosts look around like antelopes who will be hunted down
By lionesses anytime soon
I won’t mention the lice which have gotten
Heads to feed fat on their blood

IV
Then there are the single and parading
Pretending they are cats who need no cuddling
But occupying empty seats to showcase their sad selves

IVb
Then there are the herds of friendship
Whose breathes sting the noses of the air
As the air winces in flight to hit others with their mess

V
Mouths which have had too much to drink
Hold rude microphones to showcase their overly high pitches
Which pierce like arrows into the eardrums of quietude

VI
I saw the paraded goods of selling-selfers
Complaining of the vampire teeth of cold biting their shiny selves
As their mouths hide in bizarre bras
Funny how their bosses shut them up with thoughts material

VII
Then the goings and comings
Tadpoles clutch each other when leaving
Charmed cupidic servants walk backwards to dote on their jewels
Chai! Frogs hop in sessions on their departure
Mostly the male ones in front
As the fat females bounce behind them

VIII
Waitresses and waiters wait with the minds of pigs
And faces of dogs who have seen their masters eating
Most taking rudeness to the tables of coupling paupers
Seeing their future tipless pockets

IX
Eyes of light are made to hide in soldiers of darkness
So as to hide faces of thieves
Faces of cheats
Faces of desperation
Faces of anger
Faces of the depressed
To gag human dogs who seek to howl
With rags of no information
Is it perhaps to mar the snapshots of God?
Interesting how sweet tempered eyes watch
As my eyes take in the practical lectures
Of this dark enticing spot
Wait a minute
Which category am I?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

SILLY SAGE

Love is the string
Stuck is the ring
Patience is the king
And listening is the ding
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding

II
Anger makes a fling
Partners make a sling
Trust is the wing
And helps for love to sing
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding

III
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding
What do you have to bring?
Just arms to fold and cling?
Then your fall is my ping
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding

IV
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding
You can fall from a sling
No matter how strong your cling
Even hurts can cut your string
And ring like ding dong ding dong ding dong ding
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

HIS LETTERS AND FLOWERS

They arrived made like electric

Their touches proved to be eccentric

But scored him a hat trick

In a game whose thread I held to trick

Flowers and words

II

Like unseen snakes

They evaporated in my pores

Like powerful rakes

They gathered love to be stored

Like powerful waves they whispered

Sending shivers with cages for imprisonment

Like the fingers of Christ

They opened my eyes to the cool

Flowers and words

III

Flowers and words

Those cheap but potent poison

Seek to graze my stubborn grass

Which machetes and mowers failed to tamper

Never say never is a statement of surrender

Failing me miserably in the game of love

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(Photo Credit: google pics)

THAT I AM A FEMINIST

That I am a feminist

Does not make me a lioness

Asking for fairness with mouth

Holds no threats of witchcraft

Neither does it hold bullets for crucifixion

Let alone bombs for company extinction 

II

I know there are the kinds who want war

And house machetes, arrows and spears

Bullets and bombs of words 

To pursue their targets like terrorists

But in the end, they are just toothless dogs

Toothless dogs barking too loud blocking the audibility of their owners

And help the criminals get away

III

None cries in the rain to seek sympathy from the heavens

I know the right path to fairness

Fighting with fairness

Martin Luther King Jnr. and his followers’ bodies were toys

But their deeds of zero aggression made most of their haters their boys

Kwame Nkrumah’s body held no gun

But his voice and reasoning won for Ghana independence

Nelson Mandela’s body had to suffer

But his patience and silent arguments made him an icon forever

Who am I?

Just a feminist who fears to be a door mat

And can’t stand my others being stepped on

Even a goat winces when whipped

IV

I am also a manist

Am I not?

Will I ever stand to see my father pounded like a foodless mortar?

Will I ever stand to see my brother being beaten like a drum?

Will I do to my husband what I dread?

Can I ever stand to watch my son stepped on

Like clean clothes in muddy waters?

Who uses his left hand to point to her father’s house

In a community where the left is known for babysitting the rear

In its naked and disgusting times?

V

Fairness is what I yearn for

Ears are all I need on seats as audience

Reasoning are all I need in heads to turn

Compassion is all I need to cook in hearts to free this world

Of the hurts of the fragile-but -trong life makers

That I am a feminist does not make me a monster

That I am a feminist does not make me an alien

That I am a feminist does not make me a bedbug to be squashed

One person can never fight without all eyes poking their brows

I have no weapons to raid

Bringing in weapons of victimization makes you look odd

Makes me look bad

Makes us look weird 

As the mouth of the earth’s cries go unheeded

I am a feminist

That I am

Not a ruthless terrorist

Gunning for blood to feed pets of vampires

I mean who does that?

I know you know your defensiveness spells your guilt

So please step down

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(Photo credit: www.dezireefinearts.co.za)

CORASON DE TELENOVELAS (EXCERPT)

We were content
With Santo and the Mfantsi vocals
In hilarious moral satires on screens
They weren’t coloured
Neither were they classy
But they gave us “us” at our horribles and bests
Until Acapulco Bay sailed in
Sweeping almost all off our feet
As carefully chosen faces displayed the fantasies of all
Most ladies conceived jealousy for their sad fates
While others nursed demands for romance
Some started complaining like feeding birds disturbed
As some dumped their partners
Like rubbish on Zongo borlas
Then the craziness started

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Many Me’s

This is simple but dense. The confusion of the persona in different personalities is easy to relate.

Source of Inspiration

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Pantry full of food
clear spring water to drink
charming little house
inside a floresta
I am safe, healthy, happy.

Another me lives in
war-torn squalor
struggling to survive
the aftermath of bombs
floods, increasing crime, despair.

Which me is real
are there more
if so, where does
one end and the other begin?

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Christmas Grotto – Cat’s in the Cradle – A Pamela Whitherspoon Pet Detective Mystery by Dakota McGraw

Interesting review. Love the Professor already.

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

Christmas Grotto

Today a book by Dakota McGraw with something for everyone. Crime, mystery, cats and jewellery wrapped up with some quirky humour.  Cat’s in the Cradle – A Pamela Whitherspoon Pet Detective Mystery by Dakota McGraw who is as mysterious as the books that she writes.

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About the book

What does a mansion; a prize show cat and a diamond necklace have in common?

Crazy people!

That’s Professor Pamela Whitherspoons’ assessment when she is thrown into the world of cat shows, an eccentric owner and the filthy rich that got nothing else better to do. And all she wanted to do was visit her sister in Los Angeles to catch some rays.

Come see this case of a kidnapped show cat, through the eyes of reluctant amateur detective Pamela Whitherspoon, as she’s tossed in a world where a Prize Persian has an entourage larger than a rap star, and…

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