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

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

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?

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?

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

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

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