It starts in the enclosed space of a mouth
…like stolen food munched by a skilled thief
Then it passes through the meandering contours of the oesophagus
…where ready way side ears wait with their ready mouths
…and ready plates calling for a selling pan
They follow in quadrupling folds
…by the time it reaches the first sphincter
…each grabbing a part to happily stain

The widening audiences
…embellish with gastric juices of added untruths
By the time it passes through the duodenum
…and mixes with the digestive enzymes of inducing anger
…from the pancreas
Sour bile will fry it into stew with added shocks of disgust
In preparation of your dégringolade

The good in your mould would be absorbed
…from it by the liver
…by the time it reaches the large intestine
And serve you through the rectum
…at the full glare of eyes you revere
Making you dine with noisy flies
Which will spare nothing to inform all others
…about their new addition

Like a surrounded soldier on a battlefield
…it takes courage to stand
…let alone lift your head
…to shoot your shame
…to maintain your dignity
That it is how it is
…a bad rumour
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 31, 2019


It must not happen again:
The barbaric facts
…of humans turning monsters
…to treat other humans like animals
…for their selfish mortal desires

It must not happen again
…the trapping and hunting
The catching the whipping
The painful transplanting and torturing
…overworking and murdering
It must NOT
It must NEVER happen again

It must not happen again
We must make sure of it
We –
…those who have gained roots outside our fence
…and those whose pain have watered their lives within
Like kɔtɔkɔ –
…we must rise in our numbers to combact
…the poisonous infection of drugs
…murder the degrading branding of crimes
…wash off the stunting appeal of laziness
…and switch on the light of hope
On our yesters’ stolen
While driving out the doom of corruption within our mother fence

We must wipe out the characteristics
…of diasporean intimidation
And the Afri self righteousness
Which clash to alienate one from the other
Blocking hugs and togetherness
For a vice versaring benefit

For a body cannot run from its shadow
And no matter the dark that hides a shadow
It follows its body no matter its flight
Remembrance must only be a tap for hard work
…and not hatred
For hatred is like a full time job
…which can consume the time of progress

We must bond in a fondness
That will fan our ancestral worries to wonders
We have to hold hands of our hearts
…and yoke words of our mouths
To light our many talents
For we are fire and fuel
None lights without the other
We are skies, suns and moons
…we will always need each other to shine
…on this here earth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 30, 2019
Inspired by Mr. Andrew’s Kuusiemeh


Friction fires fights among friends
…and fuels feuds
Fickle fronts fume feeble fits
Freeze friction
Free feelings
…in friendly favours
For forces that function
…feel fevers of fiery-clashes

Defrost fury
…in a delightful hurry
Ditching sorry
…in dining worry
Drawing dears into darling dwellings
For loving swellings

Feed no fridge your feelings
…to face your fears
Write no rights
…to work your ways
Tongue and teeth
…are like trading twins
A bite, a breaking
…sell no abandoning
So thaw angst
…before it burst
…into destructing dumps
For immediate release
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 29, 2019


I’ve walked through the gates of hell
Without even a wailing well
Life, like a wicked trader, did me needs sell
In a struggling shell
Always rising through the fell
Heeding determination’s bell
To think I’ve lived to this tale tell…

Who am I to say
I’ve lived to dues on end pay
Before seeing this ray
…this day?
None builds it in a day-
…life’s notable hay

Now I fill my little purse
Beating the curse
…of tasting the hearse
…before my second but one less
…of decades mess
I am playing well life’s chess

I have tasted different rages
…felt fears on many struggling pages
…cried in cringing cages
Been shamed on sorrowful stages
…told off by stalking sages
Living on next to naught wages

There was a time I nowhere fitted
There was a time I many things quitted
There was a time I tasted pits
…so dark that they wrecked my wits
I have felt torn in bits
And been asked, in high places, for permission chits

Now I am here
A place with listening ears
A space with less fears
Having cried most of my tears
In mass arrears

So live
…live through it all
…the rise through the fall
Till the cheers!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©July 28, 2019


Keep what you can tend to
…not what will turn you into a ball of madness
Don’t keep a zoo
…if you can’t do the do
…of caging the raging
…or killing the murdering

Your chin is like a forest
Where many little animals pop to live
Always hunting your skin
Hoping other skins touch to give
…if you keep a beard

So you need a bathing pesticide
…morn for day
…evening till dawn
To drive bold scents from the highway of your face
You need a potent detergent
To kill the unseen livers
…travelling through Jaws and nose
…eyes and ears to head
…chest to waist
…off you

You need a trimming protector
To keep your style and beliefs
…attractive and tidy
All fear epidemic forests
None explores an ebola zone in self love
Burn or weed if you can’t neatness feed
None was born with a beard
…death without it is no crime
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 27, 2019


Mother in law
Please be no monster in loathing
…scaring an innocent as cats scare mice
Mother in law
…be no bore
Your words cut deep into sores
Breaking the decorous bones of my jaws
Your claws in paws defile the law
…in your name’s core

Mother in law
…a first love loves a love from the strange
…to gift her seats of comfort
…to build a care umbrella
…to protect the centre of attraction
She is like the air in the heat of friction
…the heat in the cold of restriction
…making sure 1+1 remains one
…clearing distracting afflictions

So don’t be a tigress
…turning a beautiful home into a jungle
…chasing nothings into flaws
…and digging in with your claws
It is an abomination
…for a man to find pleasure shelter
…in a hole which pushed him to life
…night after day and before dawn

Wilting flowers need to share their sunshine
…and rains and air
For the blooming to beautifully brighten
…to leave a mark of love
…and a cycle of giving
…watering love after love
…in a generational heritage
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 26, 2019


The way to rightness
…is full of sharp stones of hurts
…thorns of accusations
…broken glasses of queerness
…sharp nails of castigations
…haunting aura of loneliness
Its end is hell with fires of unbending tags

It could come with slaps of annoyance
…spittle of “the norm”
…urine showers of conceited name calling
…poverty’s imprisonment
…prestige’s banishment
With friendships turning bullets
…to shoot through gun relatives

The road to right deeds
…gifts hunger of weirdness
…thirst of shame
…baggage of tiredness
…with clothes of doubts
In bee stings of uncertainties

Why choose this hard road?
Why put this fragile and tired body
…through this torture?
Humans are but replaceable mortals
…on this immortal land
This immortal land whose fingernails of change
…can be cut
…but will grow back long before rot touches a fallen body
…beneath the skirt of the earth
I guess a clean conscience is worthy
…compared to all the fears associated with fetching right waters into right barrels
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 25, 2019


As you lead
…your flock to feed
And they follow
…through roads vast and narrow
Do you see their flesh as meat?
Do you think them food?

They see only you
…and your moving steps
You’re their light
…their trusted guard
You’re their lord
…their hope restored
Still do you see
…them as your feeds?

They will eat
…even your poisoned food
…without a question
…or a drop of doubt
They will fight your fearsome battles
…and will kill
…in your humble name
You’re their emotional sky
…and a king so high
Still do you see
…them as your food?

I so stand
…in questioning pity
But they don’t know
…or seem to care
I so see
…the tragic lead
But they live oblivious
…to the dangerous threats
…of your marked abbatoir

Why do I feel
…like your poor cattle
As I helplessly live
…in a chaotic lead?
Why do I tear up
…like a sad sad sky
As I see you relate
…to your subjective crew?
I guess I feel like a cow
…among the cattle of citizens
As we are led by political and religious herdsmen
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 24, 2019


Once a jackal traveled to the land of lions
…in search of secrets which made them strong
…because its family continuously complained
…about the shame of scavenging
…and the grossness of vomit meals

Knowing it is unwanted in the lions’ den
The jackal hid in their nearby bushes
…but time did not travel far
…before it was caught
…and like a strange meal
…brought before the lion king to be caged
The first lesson sinking in the fear stricken mind of the jackal

The lions sat together
…with their lionesses
…who were the best hunters
…and were so noted
Each day saw a strict routine
Day as night for rest
Night as day for hunting
They never missed
…they never complained
…they never lied to skip, rain or storms
…they never fought on whose trip
The second lesson fell into the mind of the jackal

Whenever there was a sign of a stranger
They all came together to bell the danger
And worked like bulls to protect their territory
Marking none out for death
After a conquer
…they all celebrated and cheered
Another lesson rained in the heart of the jackal
…strong defence

A lion got wounded
…and was brought in the den
All brought bits and pieces
…to feed the unfortunate
…tending to it, looking for herbs that worked
…until its fit
Writing bold lessons
…loyalty and intelligence

They caged some of their hunt
…like the proverbial ant
…and trained their cubs
…like their tomorrows existed not
…they planned their territorial hunts
…and worked through their dangers
…before their hunts
The jackal saw many lessons
…future planning
…preparing young as tomorrow’s old
…tacticianism before practicality

In the rain
…their caves never broke in
…in their play
…their practice never slowed
…a lesson of strong foundation
…and resilience

The jackal was seen as gross
…and was spared to go after vomiting and eating
Its family listened to all it had seen
…and learned
But were never ready to wake to work
…they pointed at each other for the start of change
…always looking out for a ready kill
…they continously fed their young their vomit
…and ate the rest when their young got satisfied
They were quick to push their own
…to be eaten by their gluttony, their corruption and their fears
…just to be safe
And their territory was never safe
…dangerous animals visited for their kills

Till this day
The nation of jackals live on carcasses
…of the strong lions
…always crying for a future strong
…while sleeping on their strengths
…fingers of blame pointing at each other
…eyes of jealousy forcing legs to run into living
…within beasts for crumbs of carcasses
This is the story of unlearned lessons
…breathing in tears of dying
…into nonexistence
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 23, 2019


Strain to gain
…or main to reign
…chain to cane
…drain to pain
There is a rain called karma
It holds a hellish hammer
It hits and hears no “Mama”
And pities none’s sad murmur
Know the end of a con is vain
…it is not like gold which refines to shine
…it is like food eaten into diarrhea-like defecation
Unpleasantness is its clothing
…is its make-up
…is its cologne
And regret
…is its self lashing whip
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 22, 2019


The God in a bird
…is its singing
…its planting
…and its flying
The God in a dog
…is its servitude
…its protection
…and to some, its companionship
The God in fowls
…is blessings of bells of waking
…lessons of care of chicks
…and still, their delicious meat
The God in pigs
…is the lesson of love even in the gross
…the taste of heaven in filth
…and happiness in being loathed for dirt baths
God in the sun
…is its light
…its rising and setting
…its heat
God in the moon
…is its ability to conquer darkness
…lead the dark-blinded
…and rule the sky
God in beautiful flowers
…is their colour
…their nectar and fragrance
…their lessons of transiency
God is in every piece of nature

God is the smile
…which can light a soul
God is the feed of needs
…of one being by another
God is the hand of help
…for every struggling spirit
God is words of comfort
…for all weary souls
God is the seed of trust
…for those in self doubts
God is the healing hugs
…for every sad body
God is the pathfinder
…for the roaming lost
God lives in our goodness
…and our every effort of right
…even in the lesson of our wrongs

God is the cheer in every queer
God is the dear in every hear
God is the satisfaction in every food
…the quench-thirst in every cup of water
She is the life in all air
God is the fruit on every tree
She is the shade in every made
God is the take in every stake
The peace in every leisure
That is the God in nature
Not the tricksters on spree
…dancing to possessions
…on Satanic bonded magic flawing beautiful traditions
…their souls owned by their follies
…as they act like immortals with their breakable bodies
…killing the most high with crimes extreme

By all means
…worship God
…the real God
Not any hiding in His counterfeit clothes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 21, 2019


There is everything beautiful
…about a seed
…blown harshly from its mother tree
…luckily into the loam of stardom
And fruiting in abundance
…with capabilities of traveling back
…to help transform
…and feed the culture of its mother roots
…to the world
Beyonce has blown us beyond say

There is everything loveable
…about the seed forgetting all torture
…the history of hatred
…the choice of vengeance
…and existing differences
To help build her broken roots
Beyonce has blown us beyond say

She is now a moon
…travelling the sky with many stars
…on a beautiful road
…blessing all heads in turn
She is like a beautiful nightingale
…who has found the choir of her motherland
…leading as a mistress
And blessing the world with their soothing voices
Oh Beyonce has blown us beyond say!

If all her seeds will toe her line
…and bless their stages with Africa’s fine
No continent will dare to touch the shine
…out of the progress of the stages of Ebonies
If all the stars will look back home
…and build a part to repair the loss
…of their foundations’ so broken loose
…by years of cruelty now smoothening out
None can parraral the growth of Ebonies
…on development stages
We need more Akons
…and many Beyonces
To arch us on
…and take us beyond say

For we will rise above our sinking
…and will paddle on our divided thinking
To merge into flourishing
Conquering bitterness
…and intimidation
To bring smiles to our rolling ancestors
…whose mourning still shine
…in our struggling whine
For we’re one and the same people
…scattered to own the world
…by successful replants all over
As time travels
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 20, 2019


All that far far call
…from our rich filled hall
…is what causes our fall
…as others stand tall
All the come go quality whores
…which are rooted at our shores
…eating deep into our own talents’ core
…is what is giving us incompetent chores

Why a Sikaman boss
…is made a horse
…ridden by disrespect
…paying for familiarity
…knocks the light out of my sun

Many on the land
…climb ladders and ladders of knowledge
…reach qualification’s dock
…but like cob webs
…are swept off lists
…and replaced with even nkyɛnkyɛmas from yonder spheres
…because nature’s natural colour difference
…make scraps from afar more attractive
…than prized minerals from near

We need to plug our senses
…into a wisdom socket
To know where we stand
…and how to band
…in order to put a hand on hand
…to rise from our fall into a stand
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 19, 2019


Sugar is the home of sweets
And calls many feet
…at a sight

It is like a magnetic attraction
It get many eye fame
…leg fences
…hand worships
…and tongue adoration
Though too much of it
…can take stomachs to schools of discomfort
Sugar never lacks ant

That is why I laugh like a maniac
Seeing you clinging to that sugar
…already in a bought container
…with a legitimate spoon

By all means lick the outskirts
The lid seems perfectly tight
…and will not let you in
…without a crash
So madam
…your happy harm
…which is a sham
…in your scam
…will definitely turn stray bullet to hit you
…at your sugaring road side
And daddy will not be in a hurry
…to turn surgeon in your save
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 18, 2019


There is nothing beautiful on a being
…like clothes of confidence
…in jewelry of humility
…and shoes of ambition

Low confidence in a self
…is poison
…which when left for long
…can kill opportunities
…and dreams

There is no human flaw
…without a brandable window
Self doubt is like bile around liver
…it has its responsibilities
…of balancing passions in ambitions
…and pointing to successful yous
…for your learning zooms

So wear it
…your clothes of confidence
Enhance it
…with jewelry of humilty
…add some cologne of smiles
And face each day
…with its attraction
Pulling awesomeness to you
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 17, 2019


The fascination of Ghanaians in watching the Mexican, South Korean, and Indian soaps has gone from ridiculous to worry. It is laughable to see a country once colonised, in the process of development, and still bemoaning the loss of most of our cultural values sink so low, aided and abetted by the media which has decided to break instead of make up for our cultural loss. The movie industry is a very powerful tool in every country. It is the tool used to showcase a country’s culture, which include values, morals, language, fashion, beliefs,  beauty, to mention but few. Ghanaians however, have chosen other country’s culture over ours, stifling the Ghana Movie Industry. 

In today’s Ghana, hardly will you get a television station showcasing only one of these soaps, some run as many as four at a time and during prime time too.

The Ghana I grew to know was a place where decency was revered. It was an abomination to see couples kissing in public, married or not, let alone wearing inappropriate clothes in the name of fashion.

Now what do we see? Not only do women copy what they see through these telenovelas exhibiting their follies in the name of love, they also inculcate into their minds the low morals carried by these soaps. Now ridiculous happenings like two sisters fighting over a man, a father and son killing each other because of a woman, people loving their roles as antagonists caring less about what society considers ill, rule. I believe the most dehumanizing aspect is that people sit, with very prominent people who serve as role models to discuss these soaps. And oh the killer; some stations even translate into the local Akan language infusing our cities and locally made products into them in their bid for advertisement. What are we doing to our country? 

Why will a Ghanaian help another Ghanaian to see himself or herself in a white frame? The very frame whose major population considers us inferior? And oh sometimes, the hyperbolic language translations and the pronunciation errors  pollute students whose parents can’t control them because of the fact that the soaps are everywhere. 

I know the media is a huge factor and may not help out in stopping this menace seen as a money making venture for broadcasting corporations, but in putting a stop to this, the cost involved in watching these things online will make it decrease and with time, the generation polluted will fade out. 

I believe this is a national manipulation which fester on the needs of the lonely and fantasies of illiterates. I know some do have moral lessons but their way of living is different from our ways and this further deteriorates the erosion of our culture. Why do we still kick against homosexuality when we allow such movies on our national screens? Do we not know that homosexuality rules in Mexican soaps and sometimes South Korean ones? Some attitudes and way of life are picked from movies, a fact.

It takes a radical and brave hearted to put a stop to something that has already become the norm, but I believe if investors and the government come together to encourage movie makers to come up with series that will not be based on insults and horrific follies, and they come out like Shirley Frimpong Manson’s Adam Apples, Ghanaians will fully embrace and lift our flag higher on the international market. Loving everyone’s but ours is the worst form of slavery. A canker only the media can spearhead to move this nation forward.


The leaves walked from Tamale
…to Wamale
Shiiii, zzziiiiii, shiiii, zziiiiii
…like haunting ghosts in humming hymns

The leaves walked from Tamale
…to Wamale
…happily crying from tiredness and imprisoned hard labour

The leaves living like locusts in loss
…a beautiful sight for angels
…who have forgotten their God’s commandments
Billions of tears are carried in sacks of fears
…watering the grounds for hovering hounds
Suns and rains and harms and drains
…in worker droughts and famine
The leaves walked from Tamale to Wamale
…then Wamale to Tamale
…Sule sees the unending journey
…but keeps working
…knowing closed mouth means hopelessness
…till homegoing
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 14, 2019


The trick stands out in our electricity
The harm is boldened
…in our preferred pharmacy
The ligi, with its silent lɔgɔ, shines out
…in our religion
The cat in our education
…only purrs to manipulations
The con in our economy acts star
…on our impoverished stage
The fence in our defence
…has insecured securities
…who allow all our fears easy passes
As the polls in our politics
…use their cables
…to wire them all

Why do we keep the whips in our voices
…when our needs are sacked from our choices?
Why do we bark without biting
…when our teeth are made for protection?
Why do we easily empty memories
…when victimizers become bold
…with their every victory?
Why do we act indifferent
…when the axes in our taxes
…continue to chop off our trees of comfort?

It is time to tire toes
…of our thumb-sents turned foes
It is time to keep wake
…so none our development coffers rake
We are in the middle of the change we need
…and its devils in pampering
Let’s cut them down
…and battle through to change
To be changemakers
…for our coming young
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 15, 2019


I stabbed my fears
…and murdered my weaknesses
I suffocated my ambitions
…and poisoned my dreams
…clutching care like fresh eggs
…all to hold your life
That is how much I loved you

I climbed arrogance
…with the sword of insistence
I swam in pity
…with hands of determination
I flew in abnormalities
…on rumours of witchcraft
I trained like a soldier
…and buried all tiredness
Just to keep your life
That is how much I loved you!

When I thought of the culture
…which called many a vulture
…for your living structure
…because of your ill stature
I smoked weed of defiance
…killing all wicked thoughts around you
…with guns of law
…and emotions of common sense
That is how much I loved you

I never thought
…for a brief day
That you’d be lost
…and I’d stay
I never envisioned
…for a brief second
That you’d be gone
…and I’d be here
I am now like a can
…with a fountain drained of tears
…in bright bright clothes
I’m now like a lost lioness
…in a warrior zone
…without claws
…without teeth

Time is burying your memories in dusts of forgetfulness
…but a little air of rememberance
…dusts the pain and hurts clean
…with your giggles echoing sorrows
…in caves of loss
You’ll forever remain my cross of loss!
You’ll forever remain my emotions’ boss!
You’ll forever be that boy at the peak of my love
…one I spared no sweat to dig flutters
…at his sight!
For you made me
…and broke me
…and killed me
…and planted me
Only for me to germinate into newness
…your absence living in my roots
…never to part
…never ever to be forgotten
Aduse-Poku Ahwinie!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 14, 2019
In memory of my Kwadjo Opoku (Sept. 5, 2011 – Dec. 10, 2018)


Harriet has heaped hits
…from her husband
…into houses of hurts
Her hostile home
…humming hopelessness
…in her haunted hawking heart

How hollow is her hugless heart?
How harmed is her hustling head?
Holler Harriet to hail her hobbles
…to let us heckle her horrible husband
…who has hijacked her happiness and is
…howling hysterically like a hurricanic horse

Hurts are no heritage
There is hired help
…in here’s honour harvest
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 13, 2019


She says “shush”
…when her side swerves
…the best’s serve
And claims a marked miss
…after her heart sinks in defeat

He hisses a diss
…if his target bounces to another
…in an obvious miss
Eyes see the shudder
…but only an insensitive chameleon
…hits hard a hurt in loss

It is a murderous fountain
…of tears
…from soul to spirit and shielded body
…in a cycle of time’s bridal walk
…when you miss a hit
It is a painful spat of insults
…from a doomed hurt place
…like an unfair cane sore in a salty rain
…when you hit a miss

If you hunt a game
…and end with empty hands
…you surely pamper your ego
…with “stinky animal!”
But you know
…and I know
They know
…the burning po po po pos
…gunning your heart
…in echoes of disappointment
…shaming you in a merry go round
…of loss in a mourning cave
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 12, 2019


The mind is a fertile land
…in the head of every being
Plant weeds of hurts
…and reap seeds of hatred
…with its shadow of cruelty
…and spirit of harm
Plant loving flowers with caring fragrance
…and harvest nectar of faith
…scent of love
…beauty of tenderness
…colours of trust
…thorns of care
…providing fences for your safety

The mind is a most fertile land
Plant seeds of hurts
…and like false yams
…harvest a drum full of hatred
…with roots that never really die out
Plant seeds of love
…and harvest a drum full in return
Birds of circulation peck on each
…buying for you hatred
…or love in others

Like a skilled farmer
…looking forward to a bountiful harvest
…which will feed nations
Have the tool of care
…in selecting seeds for planting
…in the farm of all minds
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 11, 2019


You’re a God
…lost in gods
…now living in huge mansions
…looking down on the poor

You’re a God
…lost in waters
…turned clouds
…which only fall on roofs of the wealthy

You’re a God
…lost in soil
…gifting your fertility to hostile harems of cheats
…shaming the good

You’re a God
…who has lost his songs
…in tongues of the innocent
…leaving the noise of deceit to roam wild

You’re a God
…who has lost his sword for the wicked
…and replaced it with a sword
…aiming at the pious
…your wind slapping goodness at your order

You’re a God with blames
…from atrocious lies to sad sad cries
…ha, desecrating duping to unfair deaths

You’re a God whose conscience needs a trial
Your love needing a revival
For your mirrors lie in lies
Framing your monstrosity as mercy
…making your loyals fall from royals
…into robes of servants
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 10, 2019


If I wanted your game
I would have more than that
…in less than the sweat of your hunt
If I wanted your game
…the game you so vilely parade
…trying so hard to cover the charade
…with my taunting,
I would never break so much as a sweat
…in fencing me with many
…better in parade
So hide your hideous finger
…wearing your tight finger cuffs

I know of your broken bed
…and your feelings’ death
I see the cracks on your mouth
…from the bad conversations gone south
I know the drought in your pocket
…because of the glutton in your socket
I know the fear in your heart
…because of the pressure from your prize
Interesting how great beads
…silently grace noble waists
…as those made by Chinese children in experimentation
…call even the dead
…to witness their walk taking
So be modest in flashing your finger cuffs

Like vultures without houses
…beaten by telling rains
Your problems are tattoed in your meanness
So cry out
…for once cry out and free your soul
…from the dark it hides
…pulling walls to shade the bright
…walls which annoy even angels sent to work solo
…on this twisted earth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 9, 2019


Your hop
…from down to top
Scratching itches in ditches
…pounding needs of hungry beads
…forcing paths in innocent deserts
Leaving no skirt towns
…trouser cities
…knicker corners
…and even jumpsuit capitals
Is a piling crime which will definitely meet
…its regret cop
…in a troubled future

You pick the best gems and flush
…them down ghostly gutters
You get angels and pump them with demonic hurts
…always soiling the pious into a coiling
I hope you know time’s footsteps are without
…remote control?

You are like a room full of grains that
…wandering peacocks come to peck
……and leave like wind carried leaves
…even those like Mahama’s Guinea fowls
……who swallowed millions
……and embarked on a one way flight to Burkina
…….have pieces of you
To your thankful thrills

There will come a time
…your horn trap will only stop chaff
You’ll then wish time had a turning-back steering
But that lateness in your future
…is a bond you’re signing now
…with your wasteful chase
…and irresponsible craze
And that future will be when your Billy will turns silly
…even in your own remembering
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 8, 2019


…get green grass to graze
…to get grace in your growth
Be no bird bedder
…begging births to bird your goat

You’re a goat
…whose wishes and gloat
…won’t grow you wings
You might see no wisdom
…walking in this caution
But be sure not to act like the cat
…which got caught in a bird moment
…and jumped from a tall mountain
…as its company-bird flew
…forgetting it had no wings
…and water was an enemy to its ears
It still hurts remembering how the waiting water swallowed it up
What about the sheep which also jumped in same situation
…and got shredded by fingers of the earth?

If there are sane ships in your ears
…let them paddle on to the thinking town of your head
…to deliberate on self care
…and work on the importance of this advice
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 7, 2019

THE CHAMBER DANGER (To our abled politicians)

None gives gold to a poor handler of silver
…just as none gifts a house
…to a poor handler of a hut so treasured
Are we over-blooded
…to have our little red rivers
…sucked from our pride and hope?
Definitely not!
This chamber will pose a danger
…which will call for a rememberance
…only worth anger!

We know your ears close
…when your mandate mate
…in a date
…promising high rate
…of your working state

But acknowledge the many living in gutters
… Note the many living in ‘lavender’ that dignity shatters
… Know the many whose nights are spent
…in air spaces reserved for mosquitoes
… Don’t close your eyes to the many struggling
…under hot suns and murderous rains
Forget not those unfortunate thumbs
…lighted the fire of the power
…which makes you tower
…ferociously threatening in aim of our cowering

The voice of the people must push your choices
…and not a reverse
Servants serve their masters
…even if a nation makes them stars
…in revered skies

The voices for elephants
…stand by voices for umbrellas
…with voices of coconuts
…with its significantly struggling others
In a NO you know should glow
So what is this deviance in your swear-in allegiance?

Clear your mess
…or face a curse
We’re not twine you can roll
…around your fingers anytime your comforts
…itch for scratches
Don’t act kokuram
…germinating on noses
…thinking we’re too shy or too timid
…to battle with asaawa
Ears were made together with eyes
…and a working mind
…for the wise to use in productivity
…where caution and dicey issues wake
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 6, 2019


You’re now new
…selected from few
…enjoying your mew
…as you, others chew
Oh, Today’s-Hot-Cake, change your view
For every dawn comes with its dew

If you think I lie
…ask the seamstresses
…about the beautiful clothes they made
…for their classy clients
…a decade past
You’ll know, the best turned rags
…because love took their shine
…their colour
…their beauty
…through their duty

Even goats now step on them
…in careless bleats
…as the dumpster awaits their rot
The new and loved today
…also doomed in the tatter cycle
So go on and blah blah
…your needed for another’s hated
…your comfort for another’s troubles
Karma’s hammer is a perfectionist
…so flawless
…in its carpentry time
…it will perfectly nail you on the cross of loss
When your tatters finally chatter
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 6, 2019


I have reached this spot
…where my conscience fills a scrutiny pot
…as my head makes it hot
…in the prosecution box

It is all because of you
You who are like air I breathe in
…but can’t hold down
You who are like smoke that tears me up
…but can’t be embraced into reality
You who makes lots of emotional noise
…like a swift mosquito
…that always escapes a caught
It is all because of you
…yes you!

Why haven’t you shown up?
…Even as the clock ticks
…in announcing my womb’s closure
…and the end of coupling leisure
Why haven’t you shown up?
…Even as my needs roast into frustration
…and wrinkles haunt for an affliction
Why haven’t you shown up, you?
…Yes, you!

Where are you?
Are you hidden beneath my pride’s ride?
…Buried beneath the beasts of my expectations?
…Hidden in the parcel of my paranoia?
…Locked in the coffin of my peer pressure?
…Tied in the bus of my unlooking?
Have you been blocked
…behind the fence of my self defence?
…Locked away in the prison of my fears?
…Or gathering dust in the store room of my immaturity?

Wherever you are
…try breaking through to this dunce
…who feels the whips of your absense
…but still stirs through the pot of nonsense
…on societal fires
…thinking her sense there dwells
Jump down, or hop up
…break out or break in
And arrest her heart
Until your reality dawns
…for she is a lost puppy
…searching for her happy
…in the smelly nappy
…of many foul judgements
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 5, 2019


There is gold between my thighs
…gold I will hold until I’m told of its shine
…by a giggling sun
There is gold between my thighs
…gold I won’t have sold to the cold to mould
…into having me poled in penury
There is gold between my thighs

I will refine this gold with learning
…lighting the fire of knowledge to turn its colour bold
I will shape this gold with tools of patience
…and hard work
Until I learn to use it
…for the product of my fancy
It could be a chain
…to proudly adorn societal neck
…till all teeth get decked out in pride
It could be a watch
…to confidently tell the world how time walks
It could be a crown
…to be bowed to
…in honour and love
It could be handcuffs
…to arrest all follies in my bright corner
…pathing safety for incoming generations
It could be an armour
…to protect my nation
…from all that may mar its sovereignty
It could be a sword
…to kill off illiteracy
…raising the flag of wisdom in valour
It could be a pen
…to be an accomplished soldier in great books
It could just be a ring
…to begin a smile to birth greatness and happiness
There is gold between my thighs

I am in no hurry to burn it black
… I am in no haste to waste its shine
I will swerve the bug of curiosity
…until I get to the city of maturity
Working on its shine nights after days through to dawns
Until it is ready
…to dine with the sun
Yes, until it is ready to dine with the sun
…this gold…
…this gold between my thighs
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July, 4, 2019
Inspired by Dr. Mrs. Georgina Oduro’s study titled “Gold Between My Thighs”. Dedicated to all girls around the world. There is a beautiful world out there, just work hard to blend the beauty of womanhood with respect leading to happiness.


I don’t know the trick
…in your bus stage acting
Well, that is what this looks to me

I don’t know the import
…of your killer-eardrums-shouting
It is oh so a turn off
…selling headaches to many with hurdleaches

I don’t know the style of your hygiene
…your arm’s pit has a unique stench
…which is nose wrenching
Do we need to talk about the mouth
…whose spittle shower many
…who the fear of your God cower
…into shut ups?
Maybe not

Please buy some sense from your knowledge book
Acting suntidua through a disgust
…on “anti-Christs” like me
…surely takes us
…to no roundabout of repentence
We don’t need a voice whip
…in this enclosed space
…where even a whisper echoes in multiplicity
Preaching should be like a soothing balm
…or a tutoring pointer
Not a wɔ-wo-kɔn-akyi-kɔ- tipae-mu

And oh, the call for offertory
…do it tactfully
…with less manipulation
We know it will all go to nourish you
…for selling us seen and unseen sicknesses
And “blessing” our noses with your fine perfume
You aim to preach and not to leach Mr. Preacher
…that is what you need to learn
…from your Biblical teacher
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©July 3, 2019


Get into hearts
…if you need to be in most chats
…as all hats
…fall for your congratulatory back pats

Do not hire a bulldozing force
…to break into hearts
…they’ll die before one of your big toes feels their lands
Do not use wool of pretence to cover your wolfness
…because of fame cravings
…to get into fences of hearts
No wolf survives a sheep filled fence
…for long
…embarrassment and or death, get them each time
Do not use a hammer of pity
…to break into hearts
…their locks once broken
…never get fixed by the breaker
…they will push you down
…at the slightest wind
Do not use a feeble lather of backbiting and lies
…to climb into people’s hearts
…creaks of truth will always oust you out

There are hearts for all
…hearts for wolves
…hearts for cats
…hearts for dogs
…hearts for frogs
…hearts for fishes
…hearts for lions
…hearts for ants
…hearts for snakes
…hearts for worms
…hearts for lizards
…hearts for goats
…hearts for sheep
…hearts for pigs
…hearts for eagles
…hearts for fowls
…hearts for vultures
…hearts for even cows and elephants
All you need to be is you
…at your best
…to open the hearts meant for you
…and move into them without breaking a sweat

The best kind of heart ownership
…is that one where you get to wear yourself
…no matter your jurisdiction
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2, 2019


…let white supremacists sleep white
…wake black
…with their white winnership in mind
And let their mirrors tell them
…tell them about the change

…let black stooges sleep with their black begging-pillows
And wake white
…with their marked hunt in mind
…only to be told by their mirrors
…of the change
…at the brink of stepping out

…let these two meet
Each seeing what they treasure on another
…and what they fear in their announcing minds

And let them view them
…let them feel their own heartbeats
…let them beg themselves to settle
Let them cry out loud to sorries
Let them tear up for each other on each other
So this label coloring will end
…end for real living to begin
…in co-habitation
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 1, 2019