​TO THE GAY IN THIS RAY

None chastises those who time has dealt a blow

As that like dead roots, will be low

None blames the Frankenstein monster

For attacking its master

For that, like a pie in dust, will be disaster

Oh deviants of the norm!

As the slave of “knowledge prostitution”

I say “due”


II

When the world was born

Human increment was sworn

When the world was naive

Food had its channel to itself

Who defiled the virgin time

And made it a shameless whore in our present?

Who broke into the yoke of normalcy

And redirected pestles to break through mortars’ backs?


III

We are all to blame

Enjoying the comfort in all that is lame

Refusing to look at growth’s monster 

Let alone find channels to tame

Why won’t same minds electrify passions?

We are all to blame

For loving the vehicle of modernity

I say “due o due”!


IV

Let nails turn claws!

They are angelic not flaws

Let hairs turn long!

They are beauty treats not demonic

Let our young act bold and strong!

For respect’s vice of meekness is a flaw

Let all in shadows out!

Every soul must build its ark

Let all passions flow!

For every being has a thing to show

Every acceptance acted scissors and blades

To tear into space of the nature’s taboos

You are part of our reward

We are all to blame

“Due o due!”


V

As wombs stir themselves

And life givers dig rear gutters

As manly gaits rehearse the feminine

And the frail acts so tough

Every finger should point to the one in their mirror

As our every need brought this breed

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©31st July, 2017

SOCIAMEDIALISM

A new whirlwind blows

And its dust shows

Not a soul knows

That it is a blessed wrap housing many foes

But I see its claws through its wings
II

It is like the god of love’s enemy

Unleashing on its host its fiery army

Sucking fun from blood to blood dealing

Making robotics the better feeling

More like a crown on the feet of a king
III

Minds meant for nation building now sit

Granting power of mouth to fingers in an apt fit

Hiding  behind shadows of images of succulent lasses

To act shameful “takers” from minds whose switches have gone to sleep

Putting clothes of shame on our motherland

Still, none seems to notice
IV

Never knew of “vapendism” 

Until their blend and escapades splashed on the new god

Which shows all the red meat in different bowls of colours

And the many colourful ladles

Which stir in different styles 

Throwing goosebumps of new need on bodies of the innocent

Making parents shiver at the thought of their wards audienceship

Chai! How no one sees beats me!
V

Gone are days when humanity nudged

When troubles sat on another’s pate

Gone are days when ears heard cries for help

Now all the cries have turned calls of video setting

For the fame of self made journalists

Who want to break news on the new god

Ha! This is interesting
VI

Isn’t it easy for secrets to now walk around

And place their bosses on centre stages?

Isn’t it easy to get to shoot rumours through armours of great men?

Isn’t the world going blind by the many artificial shinny stars

With no root but walking in talking boots?

Now we get to hug, kiss, smile show love in techniques

While reality weeps for keeps

What a wind!

Drawing us closer and apart all at once

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 29, 2017

​THE WOMAN IN ME

Some say I am a flower
A flower with mining nectar

A flower which tower

When the sun sits on its shining stool

And wilts when the sun sets

Hey! I am what I say I am!
II

Some say I am many in one

Hair like an oasis which holds current’s pores

Eyes like doors

Mouth like a toffee

Cheeks like mirror which show horrors or hearts

Breast like switches

Legs like paddles

All leading to a perfect plug

Ha! The world of mind decorations!

I am what I say I am!
III

Some say I am a toy

Which loves to act coy

But dress to follow

Pressed to sound

Sing to entertain

Dance to wake some trees

Limp on some middle grounds

But I am what I say I am!
IV

I am fire

Working hard to boil my way to safety

Overstep your space

And burning crowns your folly

I am rain

Falling to feed thirst

You sure can do your laundry after all your cooking

But block me and see the drowning crown

Mind you, I come down when I want to

I am the air of the world

Indulging breath

Serving humanity like a slave

Press my wrong buttons and I leave you clay

Clay which blends in decay!

I am what I know I am!
V

What will the world be without me?

Where will you be without me?

Where will you be without me?

Look into your shadows before making me your robotics

For I am who I say I am

Not your fantasmic animation

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 28, 2017

​HUMAN POWER

We are what we need to be
When needs to be, be

We are who we need to see

When needs to see, see

We are our lions and lionesses

Hunting this jungle in shadows definitive of us

We are soldier ants 

Making our own frames walking anthills

Creating holes which send invitations

To passers by, wanderers and pursuers
II

We are why we run

When needs to run, run

We are where we plan

When needs to plan, plan

We are chickens on the ground

But peacocks on mounds made by ground-hands

And we order, in roaring, porcupines

To fire arrows into ladders

Which aided our climb

Why?
III

We are those openers

When needs to open, open

We are the leading voices

When needs to listen, listen

We are antelopes in our beautiful haven

But struggle to be rats in far caves

Smoked and chased 

Caught and skinned

In our own audience divided in agreement

Then again why?
IV

We are the reason we reason

When reasons to reason, reason

We are the sky we need

When needs for clouds and suns dawn

We are our own thunders

Shaking our very foundations in alien call

Pushing over our buckets to wheel mud into our waters

How can the nation chew fingers whose veins connect to its heart?
V

Ever seen the beautiful clamouring for monstrous masks?

Ever seen a well wishing to be a sewage tank?

Ever seen the virgin in youth

Hoping to be a raped dumped on the desert of old?

Maybe we are sleepy angels in horrid fantasies

In a heaven penned to trap

Hoping for the author to lead

Not caring where the lead ends

We listen to the birds chirp

The dogs bark

The cats meow

The crickets cry

But we hear not the crows of cocks

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 28, 2017

LIFE IN ISEYIN WITH ROYALTY

Arriving at Iseyin  in Oyo State for the Ebedi International Writers Residency was pure bliss. The house was located in a very convenient place. It had a quiet ambience with trees blooming with abundant fruits.

Although power supply was nothing that could be compared to my home country, the administration provided a good standby generator for our use. The most intriguing aspect being the attention we received from the king of Iseyin: Oba Dr. Abdul Ganiyu Adekunle Salaudeen, made us feel like royalty. His cool lifestyle, beautiful wives and the reverence he receives from his subjects made us feel the importance of royalty to the people of Iseyin. Gloria from Kenya was particularly surprised at the whole royalty existence because it was not something practicable in her country. Of course we wrote to our heart’s satisfaction and Alhaji Bello, who happens to be the confidante and friend of the Aseyin of Iseyin |(also a university lecturer), as the king was called, took us around to ward of boredom.

On my last day at Iseyin (had to leave earlier because of some issues at work), while visiting the Oba to bid him farewell, I couldn’t help but ask about how he is able to make all his wives (rumours had it they were seven, he told us they were five) feel loved. He then told us a story of a man who had many wives. According to him, the wives fought because they were competing for who was the king’s favourite. They all called their husband to answer the question by choosing his favourite. The man asked for some time. While bidding time, the wives visited him one after the other in their bid to impress him. He assured them of his love and gave each of the ten thousand naira, imploring them not to mention it to their rivals. All the women agreed. When the time came for his answer, he called all of them together and said his favourite is the one he gave the ten thousand naira to. So the matter died down.

I must say I enjoyed my short stay at Iseyin, meeting most of the important people in a dinner organised by the residency’s administration, from Kofi, the manager, to Bode and the man in charge of it all, Dr. Okediran. My only problem was the fact that I could not get used to their palm oil. I realised Ghanaian palm oil, zomi, was not sold there, theirs had a distinct scent that I could not get used to and so got teased all the time. But it was worth it. Below are some of the pictures.

 

​WHY?

Your sword was glowing pink
And you loved to slash with powerful ink

I was your link

To the seas of your power’s brink

Oh Yohanne! Why did your boat so sink?
II

I used to, like an uncorrupted child, think

That you were the perfect drink

In that many an ambitious waters of zinc

Always loving your perfect wink

Oh Yohanne! Why did your boat so sink?
III

Now you are one with the pestle

Pounding that which you nestle

Helping those who in your dark wrestle

What is this stool

Which made you such a fallen tool?

Oh Yohanne! Why did you turn into a power bull?
IV

Look at the shadows which drool

Looking into you with teeth at attention so cool

Singing curses in mime to make you a fool

To push you into a deadly pool

Too bad you are on a blindfolding stool

Oh Yohanne! How high is your wisdom school?
V

I know time will make you feel the box

Of the hand which hide as hunting fox

And you will get the pox

Of the minds which act as your dove

As you stand in the light above

Oh Yohanne! Do you really feel some love?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia July 26, 2017.

​ROMANTIC GIGGLES

Screaming pores are appalled

By the disco light-like mounds

Which tickle in pinch mode

Dancing to the whispers of air

See the feet of seduction touch the skin of need

The sky, today, is not fair


II

Peacocks hide themselves in their wings

Shedding fowl tears of yearning

Afraid to be caught by nightingales

Eagles have descended from their high stools

Into caves where lionesses beg for the touch of lions

Praying hyenas drive further away

On their amorous flirty trains

Tender bodies stooge for the whips of painful canes

Well, isn’t this queer?


III
I have seen this day

Where the earth mates big trees

Until their firm and big rears unplug from its sockets

Who thought this day would come?

See owls grovelling in daylight 

In search of pairs to heat their needs?

I see a dog working bedmatically with a goat

Strange airs in muffled pairs


IV

Never knew rains could fill the mouths of drains

Driving them insane into spitting to slap the innocent

Never thought beds could complain

See them break through creeks into loud speakers

Pleading for calm from their turning loads 

Mischief giggles and tickles with furs


V

I now know the reason Adam’s Eve was built

I now see the season which gave reason

For living pairs

Many spirits hover in wait of womb openings

They are sure to get rooms today

Although many would be ejected as soon as they land

Lucky ones would see the light in nine moons

Still, strange is the test of the sky

Which serenades with thunder and lightning-fireworks

To lure innocent bodies into thoughtless passions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 25, 2017

​SOUNDS OF CHILDREN

Little children go to school
To learn to use the pen as tool

Guns and knives are not so cool

In the careless hands of fools


II

When they count from one to ten

They get the happy sound of a pen

Which leads them from fools’ den

Into the high wise stools of men

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 25, 2017

​THIS BATTLING SEA

Many voices
Roar in this fiery sea

Voices of rivers 

Whose feet have tasted different sands

Voices of rains 

Whose bodies have tasted higher heavens

Bodies of fluids

Whose noses have smelt rotten foods

Vomited by covered human gutters

Bodies of sweats 

Which have explored varied pores

Each lamenting like lost pilgrims

In the end a blend in chorus

Disturbing or angelic, they live as one

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 24/07/2017

​MURDEROUS DRUMS

Fetch the myth that struck the bamboo
And woke the sounds of chaos

At a time when sleep is most sweetest

In the royal palace

“Ama Mpapahene ne fontonfrom retwe kora

Wɔ nananom nsamanfo ahenkrom!”
II

Arrest the mice whose blood lured the teeth of vampires

To our Bragoro festival

And dug out rich “amoasene”

Rained on by brand new wombs

To the horror of fleeing warriors

“Kon-kon-kon ne kan-kan-kan de abɔ ani

Wɔ nananom nsamanfo dabrɛ oo”
III

Get the hands who married hay to a lighted match

And made the hot sun their witness

Housing them close to the country of barns

After a tiresome harvest

“Wɔn de asemkese adane abaa

Rebɔ animguase dondo wɔ amanaman agua so”
IV

Now silent but defeaning sounds

Gobble the sounds of royalty

Unplugging the veins of ears from all perfect beings

Turning wise men into unsuccessful mouth readers

In a kingdom of sages

“Animguase a asheshɛ Ghanafo ntaade

Ɛresa ‘afrɛfrɛ’ asa wɔ amansan awukugua so

Ah agya Anansesɛm abrɛ agu!”
V

The mouth whose words

Led the lost little soul in the dark 

Into the den of evil spirits

When rain mated clay

Shall surely get the  dreaded visit

Too bad, its neighbours would welcome the feared feet

As salt diggers welcome heavy rains on a sunny day

“Nkwasiasɛm a ɛso Asantifo nkutokwee”
VI

For now, beehives have been invaded

The thief soiling each home with the stolen honey

What can one do but attempt a cleaning?

Let breasts wake to make their milk sumptuous

And hard chests stand to teach threaded paths

To prevent toddlers from bee hunting

Who can piece together spilled milk?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©July 22, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

​A NEW OPENING


As hands of dawn open the rest cage

Do consider this queer adage

That hands won’t feed if there be no work

And like the wisest version of Ananse

Build us into a harvesting web


II

We are hens

In worldly dens

We are cocks

Between some rocks

We are comfortable tourists

Who are blessed with blindfolds

So do build us into a comfort web


III

As a mother feeds her young

Let every rock

Bring us stock

Let every gravel

Help us more unravel

Let every deed of a dove

Bring us more love

As we roam like fowls

Into the coop of another darkness

Amoafowaa Sega Cecilia (c) July 21, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

Barcamp 2017, Tamale

Barcamp Tamale 2017 is a free networking forum bringing people together for a day of learning, sharing, networking and dialogue on Tamale, Ghana and beyond. It will take place on July 29, 2017 at the  Tamale Sports Stadium. The theme for this year is “Empowering the Youth through Innovation and Professionalism”. About the theme, the lead coordinator for Barcamp Tamale, Nashiru Muntasir, said “This year’s theme seeks to foster innovation and professionalism among the youth.”.

The GhanaThink Foundation has successfully organized 72 Barcamps in Ghana as part of its Barcamp Ghana program since 2008. BarCamp Tamale 2017 will be a showcase of leaders, entrepreneurs and innovators in the Northern Region. Discussions will center on empowering the youth for better development across all sectors. It will be an event for many people who live and are interested in Tamale to learn, share and network. Ato Ulzen-Appiah, the director of GhanaThink Foundation, said “So many young people here have been empowered through Barcamp Tamale, and this is the 7th edition. We’re excited about its continued impact”.
The Barcamp will feature multiple user-generated breakout sessions about business, social entrepreneurship, technology and development, alongside topics relevant to the Northern Region and beyond. There will be a speed mentoring session where mentors will give insights and answers to questions from attendees. Confirmed resource personnel include Alima Bawa of CowTribe, Sachibu Mohammed of Green Eaf and many more experienced mentors. 
Register/RSVP at the BarCamp Tamale eventbrite website (barcamptamale17.eventbrite.com) or text “Barcamp Tamale [name] [email address] to 1945 through any mobile network. Contact the team at barcamp at ghanathink.org about any partnership opportunities or enquiries. Barcamp Tamale 2017 is supported by Tigo Ghana and  Coca Cola Ghana Ltd. Our media partner is StarX TV and Zaa Radio in Tamale. Join us to move the Northern Region and Ghana forward.
Stay tuned via our #bctamale hashtag.

Stay tuned via our social media. Twitter | Facebook | Google+

​STRENGTH FOR THRONES

Let the ancestors listen!
Listen from their working places

Let them listen!

Listen in their working gears

Is this the vision for which they drained their precious body rivers?

Is this the picture they offered their bodies

To the human abattoirs like cheap goods for?

Is it?

Is it!
II

Ants are now known as crawling insects

Their needed minds being grinded by wrestling feet 

Of elephants and cows

Hyenas and baboons

Tigers and lions

Porcupines and pythons

And oh, existing ant holes are being blocked by lost and fleeing sands

Is this the future you envisaged?
III

Did you visualize your “mmeri ntamah” turn ovened suits calling for carcass freezers?

Freezers which drain the daylight out of night?

Did you envisage your ahenema turn talking walkers?

Your tongues cut and replaced by that of some contaminated dead?

Did you per chance wish for a tired table for your enemies

As your children wait for the crumbs of their sweat?
IV

You must speak from beyond Nananom!

Did you pray for prayers?

Prayers which would turn thunders and lightening into our stooges?

Stooges which would travel miles to provide all that we call?

Did you?

Did you?
V

What at all did your blood preach?

A battle for thrones like dogs who have run amok

Where the winner takes all?

Can’t you see your Frankenstein Monsters go beserk?

Can’t you see?

Do you really not see?
V

Bow your shamed heads from beyond

For like losers on the lose, you live unseen

Your crowns of nobility have long fallen

Your regal rings are now handcuffs

And your fiery spirits live as haunting ghosts

Need I say more?

No, not befitting of your respect customs

So I lock the gates housing this tongue

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 19, 2017

​IRONY OF ODDS

A dove has been bathed into a vulture
A sheep transformed into a goat

A wall gecko now lives like a cobra

Which waters clean the clean into dirt?
II

A lion is now a cat

A tiger living as the dog of a crab

That eagle is now a “borla” bird

Which airs travel in exhaling

To change destinies like diapers of a running infant?
III

Odomankoma’s eyes must be floating  on seas with pinching salt

Boiling by the fury of rage

As spirits with divergent hearts fight

On the battlefield for souls on soles

As he watches his flawless creations

Turn monsters in mythical mirrors

Yet stay like untainted dolls in his daylight vision
IV

Amazing how innocent baby teeth

Turned carnivorous, love the taste of flesh

Flesh which houses their very selves

Hadn’t heard demonic laughter harvesting standing ovations

Until the veil of innocence tasted claws of enlightened machetes

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 19, 2017

​5 REASONS WHY YOU SHOULDN’T WATCH KOBINA ANSAH’S TRIBELESS!


From the days of his seasonal stage play, This Family Is Not For Sale, playwright and producer, Kobina Ansah, has flaunted his brilliance when it comes to having good, quality fun on stage. His unique style of writing has carved a niche for him in the theatre industry. No two ways about that. 

However, his new brainchild, Tribeless, showing this September at the Efua Sutherland Drama Studio on University of Ghana campus may not be one stage play you may really want to see. You may have been wowed by his I Want To Sue God! but trust me, this may not be one of his usual side-splitting pieces.

Call me a hater but I would not mince words especially when I would have to call a spade what it is. You really want to know why you shouldn’t watch Tribeless? This is it!

FIREWORKS!

One word to describe Tribeless? Fireworks! This electrifying stage play is going to hold theatre lovers spellbound for two good (2) hours. If you’ve seen a Kobina Ansah play before, being held at the edge of your seat for that long is no news but Tribeless is just something else! The streetism-themed musical will use contemporary forms of rap, dance, music and drama to tell the story of four (4) street friends with a dream.   

INFECTIOUSLY HUMOROUS

Good humor is one thing to expect at every play written and directed by Kobina Ansah. The My Wife In Law writer has a cunning way of brewing humor with his characters and this play is no different. Want to have good fun? Tribeless is highly recommended!

HIGHLY MOTIVATIONAL

If you’ve followed the writer for a while, one thing that comes easily to him is motivation and inspiration. Tribeless is a motivational play that will inspire one to hold on to their dreams despite what happens. 

VERY CREATIVE!

Kobina Ansah plays on some contemporary songs in his banger, Tribeless. He remixes Davido’s “If”, Runtown’s “Mad Over You” and even Rihanna’s “Diamonds”. Yes! The wow moment is when he laces these with rap to convey his message. This is what every youth can indeed relate with!  

MOVING!

There are going to be twists and turns the audience is going to love; from the romance to the heartbreaks and even the victories. This energetic four-cast musical is not a comedy but you can’t stop laughing. It’s not a romantic story but you can’t stop loving. It’s Tribeless!

You know why you shouldn’t watch it? It’s contagious! You may never want to stop watching! Well, I have booked my seat in advance this September 23rd and 24th, 2017 at the Drama Studio. Let’s have a date there. First show is 5pm. Second show is 8pm.

Source: Scribe News 

​WHEN LOVE’S WHIRLWIND SWEEPS

When love’s whirlwind sweeps
It moves fearlessly like a monster looking for keeps

Pressing hearts into one until it, one sound, beeps

II

When love’s whirlwind arrests

Every sour taste blends into milk like a newborns’ from breasts

Making unfathomable ills honoured crests
III

When love’s whirlwind stamps

Its desired sounds beat no ear-blasting amp’s

Even stinky hovels become exploring camps
IV

But when it slaps

Even Satan’s right hand claps

Applauding the athletes caught in their hearts’ traps

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 18, 2017

​SWORD OF THE MOUTH

Long ago

In a happy hollow cave

Peace reigned

Except for the claps of teeth

And the darkness in residence

No toe of chaos ever touched its dust

Until a soft meat-like towel became resident


II

Its presence provided inmates

With a turning toy

Introduced them to fragile bodies and blood

And brought angelic sounds where stone clapping existed

But it introduced another scare


III

Meaning

Meaning in calls

Made it a stall for ears

Some sounds brought laughter

Others brought tears

Some sounds brought chaos

As inmates wondered where in the boneless skin

Hid it’s powerful blade

And wondered how it made them accomplices


IV

Though blameless, they endured

Until it got entangled in other attractions

Like magnetic poles in assemblage

Repelling those without its factor

Beings rose against beings

Houses against houses

Villages against villages

Cities against cities

Nations against nations

And continents against continents


V

Inmates were like electric poles 

Struck by lightning

Their wondering turned into shock

Their shock turned into mock submission

Their mock submission turning into chaos

Chaos within and without


VI

None saw how it came about

None knew how to eject it

None was sure how to live without it

But all got to know in record time

That it sure is the harmless harmful

Which hid the murderous sword of all time

Protected by arranged stones 

In the hollow cave called mouth

Only protection mechanism:

Handcuffing it between locked lips

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2017

​WHERE ONLY MOUTHS WORK

There is a reason hands hung

Legs stand

Eyes see

Ears hear

And mouths talk

But in my home 

Mouths walk in talk

And swing in fling

Closing ears like clashing bombs

Forcing eyes to shut in disgust


II

Little things turn typhoons

Then tsunamis

Covering bigger fishes to sail beneath national seas

As small ones turn dishes on influential wishes

Multiplying the earthquake of development

Still hands hung

Eyes watch or close

Legs are rooted like static robots

As mouths stand in boxing rings

In competitions of no winners


III

As baby teeth dream of the future fights

And matured teeth drum their mouths

Into greying heads

What is change to do but sigh?

As generations of mouths

Graduate from talks with no walks

Where lies the future of a debating history?

Where lies the pots of progress

When hands remain clean as mouths knead fantasizing moulds?

I am but a little mouth 

Flowing from my fingers’ ink

An ink flying spittle may erase

In this mouth cage

Still, what is this realm to do?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2017

​A ROPE IN A HOLE FALL

Once a vibrant bird fell
Its pain and sadness was like hell

Its chirps could pierce a tortoise’s shell

But none threw even a healing gel
II

Its broken wings begun to swell

And watching birds begun to sell

Its sad state was the definite sell

As many mimicked its sad sad yell
III

Rumours of a hungry eagle spread

Like wild fire in a cotton bed

Eyes kept watch in a bushy shed

Beaks kept pens in the noise’s dead
IV

Until darkness rose from its day’s dead

And the poor bird on death’s prayer fed

But before darkness’s myth was heard

A rope’s hand, a saving, led
V

The poor bed did pray its last

At least let my death be so fast

So my pain will fail to last

In this poor script where I’ve been cast
VI

“Open your eyes drama king of kings

Not all beaks are chirpy swings

And as everyday holds its night’s wings

So will help find troubled dings”
VII

And so it was that a darling came

Through an elder to wipe its shame

And helped to fix its living name

Oh its thanks to the rope which suddenly came

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 7, 2017.

​LOVING YOU (STYLED SONNET)

Do not grovel even in a hovel
For each of our remains will taste the dig of a shovel

Idolize your mirror reflections

Even when you face constant rejections

For you are a soul in a body

And a spirit not at all shoddy

You are like a myth in passing

But a warrior on a battlefield facing an axing

Your crown can be knocked onto the ground

Held by a hound

But your swiftness can let you win

Even after being shoved in a bin

None can be a perfect fan for you

Than you

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) July 6, 2017.

​THE SMOKE WORSHIP

I thought only noses of the earth

Drugged deep by rats and mice

Caused hunters to rear smoke 

To sneeze out deli-meats

Little did I know some heads are rat holes

Hoarding abominants 

So owners light their mouths

To sneeze their fall
II

How heads have turned “muchia” 

To cook brains into highness

Bleach mouths into coal

And eyes into blood-balls

By the abled fan of holes for edibles

Is above my share of Twereduampong’s knowledge  
III

Manifestations of some “lighted heads” 

Clearly show works for Pantang 

As crowns mark kings,  only this time, in non-reverence

Yet many fuel its gas of need

Becoming seeds for guttered minds

Soiling the future’s up-beings meant for driving nations

Definitely their stations
IV

They say words on books rush into heads without efforts

Their legs moving like comfortable sneakers 

When the head is high

They say the waist get wings to grow huge trees for pounding hidden sweetners

When the head is high

They say the mouth opens in braveness

As commanders leading their troops 

When the head is high

So they preach on

To soil the blood and waters

And light heads for a great boosting
V

A rotten tooth digs under neighbouring teeth

He who knows no death should watch sleeping faces

We cook or roast to eat or use not to seat to cheat

Let those with holed-ears hear

That the smoke and coke can choke brilliance

And brand our shaking labour hands lepers 

With no visible fingers to proceed in succession 

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 26, 2017

INNOCENT PRISONER (CRAZY STANZAS)


Our elders ask 

Only one saw so who is the witness? 

I am a victim of circumstance

One caught like an innocent antelope

In an unknown hunter’s trap

One set in a cage meant for an unknown

One substituted by chance with a lucky being

Protected well by a worldly antagonist whose apparel fits me now

In eyes of all including the law

I am a victim made culprit 


II

They say God is all seeing

Why then can’t he be all saying?

Cutting thorns of deceit to free an innocent’s defeat? 

They say God is all merciful

Does his mercy favour brutes and dishonour the virtuous?

They say He is all fair

May I doubt that without a blasphemous whip 

Mythically chasing my soul? 


III

These are the hardest times

Times when my body rots in a cage

As my dreams sit in rage

Times when I turn Jesus with a cross too heavy

Yet without Pharisees to nail my body into it for eternal sleep

What is worse?

Living like a ghost to see your kind live their dreams

And dying for others in just days to become a celebrity forever? 

Oh that no one will mention me

Even in places where my placenta dwells

When I fall into the unreturnable hole in this sadness

Kills my trust in a super being


IV

They said a life of another I took

When even that of a cock I am yet to book

They said the house of a prominent I shook

When I am yet to air that of my unknown enemies 

They claim a presence at a time

When Samaritarianism called was my crime

Even my own got caught in support

As charges climbed ladders and stood like carpenters

Nailing me to this gaol

“Baako akohunu,  dansefo ne hwan? “


IV

I live here

I am wrinkling here

Days battling in height with night

Making me the silly audience

Oh how I wish time had wings

To fly me from this nightmare

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 27, 2017.

​NKONTOMIRE VRS SARDINE


The clock of change ticks

Transforming in shockaholics 

Yet many feed after thorny pricks

In places whose geography elude mapachronics

Living healthily by the green waters of kontomire

As others blinkardly gobble dead fishes in oily rivers


II

Gone are the days when elderly buttocks

Filled seats before their young

Gone are the days when older mouths talked

Into younger ears without boxing words 

Wearing fiercer gloves to houses into boxing ring of words

Gone are the days when skins lived in nature 

And returned to their maker without peels

Gone are those days when monies had no hands

In the preparation of peace meals

Gone are those days when chiefs were politics

And politricks hid in darkest places without celebrations

Gone are many things including nightfall

As night light battles that of day


III

Now one living in “Werewerekodi” struggles 

Without knowing the knots tied on his head

On an international market

One at “Frefrekobo” feels the heat of need

Without knowing his debts incurred for him

By names he will never be able to transcribe in life

Many unfortunate things have bodies

Parading like the ishes 

And becoming many’s wishes


IV

If time could turn back to reverse some things

Setting rules before eye openings

Making hugs physical and not imoginal 

Squaring lives instead of half elevations

Life would have been better

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 28, 2017

​CHURCH PALAVA

They say he who fetches water

Breaks the pot

So he who goes to sit under Odomankomah’s umbrella

Enjoys the shade under torrential rains

And is able to dodge the scorching sun

But did I fall into an army of hungry ants

Bathed with sugar?

I went to the temple

To listen to the gospel

And saw some Adam’s apples

Dancing on God’s perfected tree

 Winking flirtatiously in whispers with the blowing air

To wake the demons asleep in my throat

Agya ei!

If Adam who had direct contact with Nyankopon Twereduampong 

Couldn’t resist just one apple in temptation

How could I resist the many

Whose succulence filled the lenses of my eyes

Wherever I turned?

This na church palava!


II

Our elders know best

That is why they asked that sleeping dogs be allowed to lie

Even when new wounds are formed

So who asked them to wake mine

When I had multiple gun shot and arrow wounds?

There were the needy prayers

Whose voices could wake the rotten dead

The lusty preacher

Whose eyes could pierce through a heart millions of miles away

Combing through in selection

And oh

I saw the mutual winks with some apples

And I felt the fallen and ones being hunted to be plucked

What was I to do?

Rome’s rules are meant to be followed

There were the long hands

Waiting for the coffers to taste the dew of darkness

There were the ladder climbers

Combing through hidden CV’s to find their bearing frames

And two leggeds calling with body light

For a pair to pair

So why couldn’t I take a bite of an apple

From a tree which saw to my birth

When doctors say their needles are kept away

When an apple a day is taken?

This na church palava!


III

With these walking noisily in my mind

Why did the preacher pick his words from the scented flowers

Of songs of Solomon?

Where the allure of seduction walked like a beautiful mermaid

Sent by the goddess of twisted love

To harvest ripe and growing tree muds

Whose power bombs are locked away in cages?

Why did they have to open these safes with fire?

Ei!

This na church palava!


IV

Every crown must have thorns

Every clothes must have biting ants

Every pillow must have haunting dreams

Every bed must have piercing thorns

As every right goat and its stinking pate

Chai!

Akuoko!

Here I stand amidst three apples

Now knowing they were harmless fruits

Whose hurt could turn them blood suckers

Which part of my body will first taste a vampire teeth?

Oh! And just after church service!

This na proper church palava!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (a) July 2, 2017