How did our generational grooming become so tough?
How did our great games become not enough?
How did our growth go broke and rough?
How did our cues granted bearly through coughs
…become unrespectable stuff?
We sure are in abnormal times

When the skies change, the world must adjust
Let’s not be like clouds which never thought earth their rest
And darkened it, calling on storms to break their forms
So teach our young
That Montero is an art in fantasy
…not a map of life
Teach them
That Peaches is a deviation of right and wrong
…not a life model so strong
Teach them
That Up is actually a playf fantasy
…and that down is the beginning of the climb
Teach them
To live their lives on what is needed
…even if wrong notions splash through beats
…calling their dances
Teach them
That sarcasms live to straighten
Teach them
That pleasantness fits a growth
Teach them
To know what to follow and what to discard
For none can block the virtual
With warnings, threats and canes

Our future can go crooked
If we explain not art
…to our gullible young who think all they see doable
For they are like baskets we weave
With the straw we harvest
…from our own farms
They will take the shapes we structure
And will rock the sizes we determine
Oh they will be at the height we choose
And will come off in places we let loose
Always being the mark of our judgment as weavers
No matter how they turn out
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 30, 2021

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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