Silly hobbies
…on televised lobbies
Are sweeping our cultures onto the dumps of extinction
Giving that of others prioritized distinction
Why buy for our mirrors unequal images of ourselves
Only to turn to bleachers and preach the horrors of themselves?
II
The must of lust
Evolving from this facade’s crust
Leaves notes of doom
Entrapping the yoke of our bloom
Numbing consciences to thumb our cultures’ gloom
On stages of and for us
Via our own taste used to build a dishonorable bus
Even our own roads of thoughts can’t wheel
Leaving us ghosts of our own zeal
Lurking in shadows of unwanted deals
As maniac teeth laugh to steal
Souls Odomankomah built for our feels
Ha to the hoho ha!
III
If I see me in pink
I’ll drink that potion to be pink
…even if it roasts my skin
If I think my name fit for a bin
I’ll steal that which makes me sin
…and throw mine in the bin
Making sure my generations to come hold
…on to their histories sold
For what I see is what I’ll be
Why can’t stage powers see?
He to the hehe ha!
IV
So go on and put your language clothes on foreign soaps
And watch as your audiences bath on drunkun slopes
If they end up with self hating mopes
Forget of your heritage’s hopes
For that will be the gutters you built
…one not easy to desilt
So continue to call the Esmeraldas to tell the Alejandros
…to wake the Lee Minhos
To sing to the songs of Telemundos
Even as Ghallywood lies on its death bed
That seems to be the people we’ve always been
Using our own hands to undo the seams of our skirts
To push perverted horrors to feast on our cultural flirts
…in our own backyards
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 16, 2021
Mum Cee 