​HONOUR THIS PRAYER


You know the spine of every palm frond

Holds it firmly 

Even in the slaps and blows of the wind

You know a seed holds the future of its fruit

You know divinations of norms

Twist paths of stories

I am on this drive which the winds of life turn

Abrempong mu Obrempong

Lead my drive!


II

In a vehicle where I am a passenger in a bit

A mate in a bit

A driver in a bit to be turned into a passenger again

Only to get off at your appointed station

I need you to perfect my seed

I need you to fix its all

I need you to hold it into independence

So I don’t turn the alighted not so delighted

Anyame mu Onyame

Lead my drive!


III

This road is filled with claws and pores

Yet my tyres have no where else to thread

Every puncture fills the fun of fickles

Every stop digs the greed of pushers

Every break oils the need of the unscrupulous

Every empty tank calls for even thirsty gallons

So Odomankomah!

Odi Asaase yi so ahenkan!

Judah mu gyata!

Please lead my drive!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 17, 2017

​THE UNFORTUNATE CITIZEN

These eyes still have their seals

Primitive living

Oblivious of a world on wheels

A cup for mouths and animals

Like Abels in a Jesus world

They live laughing in loving misery


II

I have seen anuses feeding their soil

At the full glare of many

As flies chorus the pushing

I have seen the flies following and dining with hands

Blessed with brains

I have seen a going and a coming 

With nothing to show

Tired muscles screaming through showing veins

At the injustice done them

There must be blessing in ignorance!


III

They give with no knowledge of benefits

They chant with no knowledge of duties

They thumb with no knowledge of implications

This must be the dream of politricks!


IV

You beautiful hearts in an unfortunate place!

Arrested by need!

Punched by greed!

Entrenched in the past!

Intoxicated by ignorance!

How I wish modern literacy were a spell

Under my helpless grasp!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 12, 2017

SEARCHING 

Many a steps are forced by need

Many a man’s need suffereth from greed

One’s seen need is another’s goldmine

I am that hen

Looking for the feet of the mythical hawk

Stepping on the wellbeing of my chick


II

All many eyes see

Is the flower with different colours

Standing tall in the wind

Blown here and there

And still stands unshaken in the calm

But if pillows could talk

They will tell secret tales of hurdles

Which suck sleep from the honey bed

I am that hen

Who has escaped many a cruel machete

From the hands of greedy celebrants

Using the helplessness of my hen

In the abattoir of healers


III

I have danced naked on many a hopeful ground

Shown my weaknesses which grows with days

Paid have-nots with money of my blood

Fed on biles of failure and disappointment

And felt my intestines beg a tear closure

I am that hen

Whose soft end sits in its innocent chick

Imprisoned in the cage of a disorder

One that brings me silly orders


IV

But I go on

Jumping from here to there

Hoping a good wind will send me THERE

THERE, where redemption sits in the mass of deceit

To free mine from the shells of life’s unfortunacy

I am that hen

Hopeful with every new day

No matter the deadly punches of their previous

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 10, 2017

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 15

​It takes steady legs and a determined heart to climb the ladder of success. Since the world felt powerful associating with already made personalities, each day served me a plate of zeal to change my life for the better. Aunt Aba bought back my fabrics at a good price and I decided to work less to allow me space to learn for my basic exams. Two days to the first paper, I felt some fear pangs in my abdomen. Ntwanu visited when he could and brought me things he thought I would need.

Shai called me to come to the Glory of God Church and just ended the call around mid morning. I got worried about her frightened tone. Between my books and new family, I felt like I was walking on needles. I just put on a shirt and mini skirt and headed to the place in my car. Dido, my new bodyguard, followed in another car. Upon reaching the church, I saw Shai draped in some white calico (stained in blood) from head to toe and tied to a pole in the middle of the church. As members of the church closed their eyes in loud prayers and clapping, the man of God was pouring some kind of water on Shai. His disciples were hitting her with canes and she looked really beaten with marks and swelling on her face. 

I wanted to understand what was happening so asked out loud:

“What’s happening here? Why are you abusing someone’s daughter like this?”

The pastor took a bell and shook it and the whole church became quiet, then spoke:

“Let there be quiet! There is another sinner in our midst. Even her clothes show she is working as a devil of the night too. I told you getting one will bring another, didn’t I? The Lord never lies! Great Mazuka!”

“Mazuka is king!” thundered the church.

Before I could say “hey”, I was in the grips of his disciples with calico being used to cover my body. I was sent to another pole, tied and the ritual began. Whipping and torturing words:

“ Pray for the demons of lust to get out of this person. Shoot the devil of prostitution from them, be sure to throw the catapult of stones on the demons possessing these two and finally, shoot them with the Holy Spirit in prayers. Now start.”

I was shocked at the pain supposed men of God could inflict on their fellow beings but could not think straight because of the loud voices with the added claps and the strong scented water. One woman had the voice of a loud guinea fowl.

“Yehowa you are Yarweh! Show your mercy to these sinners and let them be free from demons of prostitution! As I clap, trap the evil spirits within them and make them flee. I throw the catapult of Mazuka on these demons, I bind them with the rope of the All Seeing, I shoot them with the gun of Almighty and I bomb them with the fire of the Holy Spirit. Yiri maputu! Yiri uzani, yiri nara, ibei adula.”

The woman, tall, huge, bleached and rewarded with the colours, orange, red and green kept clapping and repeating same words for over thirty minutes. I felt somewhat scared anytime she ended with the strange words. It was as if she was chanting. I didn’t know what was keeping Dido but it sure made me feel unsettled. Just when I was about to ask them what we could do to be free, the men barged into the church premises, Ntwanu leading. Those I knew and those I did not know. They numbered about 30 wielding bats and sticks with few holding guns. 

Ntwanu fired a warning shot and I was surprised to see the pastor kneeling and shivering like a leaf. The church scattered as all church members kept running helter skelter. Some calling on God, others calling on Great Mazuka! While some of Ntwanu’s men untied me, I watched as he dealt the pastor some slaps. I had never seen him so fierce and angry and in action. I saw a different side of him. One disciple urinated on himself after watching his leader slapped over and over again. The pastor was fat with a huge stomach, dressed in a red robe in a barefooted mode with eyes almost popping out.

After disciplining them for two minutes, I realized the others handcuffed the leader and his disciples. Ntwanu and Dido took us home. I didn’t say anything on our way home although I wanted to know what was going to happen to the handcuffed. Ntwanu was worried about my silence but I was concerned about the new Ntwanu I saw. Ruthless and cruel! When we reached home, the family doctor was waiting. He attended to our wounds and gave Shai some injections with some infusions. I sat by her bed and watched over her, my wounds barely visible and relevant to me. I had failed the girl I swore to protect and I felt so bad. Mimi had travelled with a client and Shai was in charge of our underground business. How she ended up tied and tortured by a supposed church was besides me. 

“Baby girl, aren’t you going to talk to me? I am dying of sadness seeing how you are trying to avoid me.”

Ntwanu’s voice took me by surprise. I thought he had left. 

“I am not avoiding you, I am just in shock. The ordeal was a bit shocking” I partially lied through my teeth. 

“I know there is something more. I hope you know I will never hurt you? I love you so much baby girl. I will give my life if need be, to make you happy”.

I hugged him at that point and saw him off with a French kiss that I did not put my heart into. 

Shai woke up a little after midnight and narrated her story.

“All the girls had been booked so when the order came in for 2000 cedis for an hour, I decided to go myself. Upon reaching there, I was ushered into the church. I thought it was the fantasy of the man to have sex in the church so I stripped and started making advances towards him. I kissed him and after enjoying for a while he started calling Great Mazuka. Some people came, caught and attacked me. It was in the morning they asked that i spoke to my mother to come and see my salvation”

I asked myself what a church was. Why it believed in casting our demons of sins. Why that particular one ordered a prostitution agency to send a representative only for them to pounce on her. I just didn’t understand the kind of salvation they as individuals wanted to give and the kind of thoughts they had been brainwashed to have. Questions about them kept running through my mind. How do they perceive God? How do they walk around without fearing their shadows. (Because clearly, sin is part of our daily struggles.) How do they live? Do they ever live with some form of happiness when they can’t stand their little sins? In a world where a sin today is the win tomorrow, how do they accept the change? I knew prostitution will always be bad but isn’t it part of our lives? Even men use their sexuality in exchange 

Well, I had examination just lurking around the corner so fed Shai, tucked her in, made sure she was sleeping and put her phone by her side, then went to my room to study. Life’s battles have stubbornness embedded in their hearts but they surely are the center of living. I swore never to lose out and to live fully, loving and protecting loved ones.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 2017.

Photo Credit: Google Pics

KICK NO FALLEN

The fallen is like an egg

You kick with an intent of destruction

Variety in lacking, is perfection of His creation

So let your feet be kind


II

Consider the legless and help the hopping

Consider the struggling and help the ill

Consider the suffering and bless the helpless

Please let your feet be kind to look

So as not kick the fallen

III

Let your feet be kind

For there is no shaking grounds

Let your feet be kind

A down today can be an up tomorrow

Let your feet be kind

Tomorrow’s history is today’s mystery

Let your feet be kind 

On this slippery earth

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 6, 2017

​ON THE EVE OF YOUR WORSHIP


You have cut the ribbon of shyness

From our very eyes

All contours leading to remorse

Have been made comfortable

From the slippery slope it was

Why?

Because sins grow into norms with time

And you are the programmer of the dramatic brain

Which engines us


II

I wonder if you peep through the anus of discos and clubs

To see sins dance in varied sneakers and heels

I wonder if you see through the “drosses” and “trousers” of fornicators

To see pestles in pleasurable laughter

And mortars in needful beckoning

I so wonder, if your eyes reach

The joints of high points in smokinghood

To know how deep nostrils reach

To fetch the line of smoke from lungs

Oh! Do you follow their steps into darkness through to your temples?

Are you regretting our creation?


III

I know you know the machetes

Which cause some hands to sin

You do know the poisons which will cause some minds to scheme

You do know the words which will make some vocals turn villains

Yet, you sit and watch as many perish

On the eve of your worship

How delighted are you watching the path to your glorification?

Disrespectful me!

How dare I? How dare I taunt you on the grounds of my sins?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 25, 2017

​WHEN DAYLIGHT SLEEPS (Adult Poetry, 18+)



When daylight sleeps

Prepare your foot to heed to the call of my beads

For surely

You must dance in my wet ground

Whose rains began at the first tear of dawn


II

Mow your lawn

And clean your gun

Load it to perfection

There sure must be a fat game of pleasure

At the end of the hunt

Yes, a dance in a hunt


III

Be sure to borrow the air of freshness

Around your red towel

Which will be on my plate as one toffee

Whose sweetness never fades

Of course I will add that to the lollipop

So be sure to prepare your all in pleasing scenting


IV

Actions for passions

Reactions for hyping

Matching for matching

Hanging for hanging

The eyes of our darkness have a lot to expect

In our unholy confines

And so must yours

When daylight sleeps

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 24, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics

GAOL

When chains police beings

In hollow caves of innocence

At the audience of  culprits

Who like sheep giggle with eyes of a lionesses

Fate sits on a slate of unfairness!


II

Sounds of feet with rifles!

Sounds of breaths with struggles!

Sounds of deaths which plant fear

Watered by self mourning!

Sounds of freedom of the lucky

Fertilised by covetousness!

Fate, why sit on a slate of unfairness?


III

You are a king of your domain

You are the captain of your ship on a sea of life!

Why can’t you navigate truth from mouths of lies

Into ears of justice?

Why can’t you order conscience to sun bathe

In the full glare of the populace

To cut loose the shackles of victimization?

Why can’t you defend the poor defenceless

In your fearful court?

Why can’t you?

Why can’t you?

Why sit on a slate of unfairness planing the credibility of great personalities

And painting them with guilt

At the full glare of unforgettable eyes?

Ah! Why sit on an unfair slate? Oh fate!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 23, 2017 

​BEST TO DO NAUGHT

Let the hen dance in the midst of hawks
To the appeal of the vast sky

Its bones would never fail to lie naked

Before their beaks

So sometimes, it’s best to do nothing
II

Let the snail run as fast as the rabbit of its fantasy

In the angry survival of the hippopotamus

It sure would taste feet to its death

And lose itself in a mud coffin

If rains seek asylum from the sky

There and then

Sometimes, it’s best to do nothing
III

A mad hungry dog hears no excuse

Of a sick cock

Neither does a vulture know an impoverished corpse

Sometimes actions wake threats and hurts

So I dare say

It is sometimes best, to do nothing

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 20, 2017

​THE SICK’S ATTENDANT

Many a pain holds no stamp on bodies

Many a pain stems from sight and hearing

Many a pain give no pleasure gain

So place no insensitivity on this anger

This anger you feel towards you


II

Every pain in your being plants my insanity

Every stain on your life

My very frustration

Watching death drag and taunt

Dangling your being like a thing

In dreams of a grave

Is no pleasure trip

So pardon if my temperamental trips


III

No heart that loves feels no perplexity

At the hurt of a target

There is a reason the hen shields its chicks

At the sound of a hawk

Love binds in happiness and sorrow

So even at your low, do know

This hard looking me feels every fibre in your body

And its unpleasant vibes

Just like an electrocution burning the wires of its veins

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 20, 2017

CHANT ME INTO DISPOSSESSION (Crazy Stanzas)

Chant me into dispossession

Ye who held my navel

And crossed to the shores of earth

As my voodoo watched your fragile steps

With no evil stone cast
II

Chant me into dispossession

Ye who fed through the clays of my pot

In the dirty dust you now so abhor

Deliver me from the spirit of my ancestors

And baptize into the ways of alienation

But remember this eraser might leave no trace

When your uniqueness calls tunes of your intrusion
III

Chant me into dispossession

Ye who was healed by the leaves of this land

When the heels of death chased your infancy like a hyena

Weed all the fetishes and cast out your blackness

Into a bleach of civilization

I am sorry to have been the curse which birthed your existence
IV

Chant me into dispossession

For I see the me in you screaming at the lashes of your rejection

And the hurt of your hate eroding the very soil that did you plant

I am only sad that plants can’t do without their roots

Still, chant me into dispossession
V

Chant me into dispossession

I am a filthy animal with a crude tail

You are as white as the dark with a soul as black as snow

So chant me

Do chant me child!

Chant me!

Chant me into your suitable possession!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 18, 2017

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 10

“HEARING THE SUN SING”

I have seen many a moon

Wrestling suns as I acted their baboon

I have craved for many a dark cocoon

But here I watch the sun and swoon

As it sings “didn’t I tell you it will be soon?”

Yes you did, and it is not even my life’s noon”
Ms. Barwuah was not only impressed after reading my poem, she was happy for me. Obviously love was written all over me. If anyone had told me I would find love in a wicked looking, tall and well muscled black as ebony man, I would have sworn on my life it would never happen. But there I was, with butterflies and bubbles playing tickles in my stomach just at the thought of Ntwanu. He called more than three times everyday. Saw me at least in every two days.  I thought of marrying him, having multiple children and living happily ever after until Mimi asked me to wake from my fantasies. 

Mimi had never liked my association with the trio who were cultists and armed robbers with the worst and most fearful gang in Kumasi, according to rumours.

“No matter how much you love him, know you have no future with that armed robber. The earlier you start working, the better for you. No matter how much you have in your account now, sitting at home and daydreaming about an advanced thief and cold blooded murderer will deplete your account. A word is enough for the wise”

As much as I hated Mimi for pointing out the obvious, as much as I failed to apologize for the slap I gave her for stating the only thing I did not want to acknowledge, I had to agree with her after thinking deeply about it. There is no great future for children between prostitutes and robbers. I knew I did not want that life for any child of mine. So I decided to go to work a week and two days after my lovely holidays with Ntwanu. I felt bad considering his pleas for me to stop prostitution. He even asked me to marry him but I politely declined and promised to think about it in future. I was sixteen and had seen too much to make any hasty decisions. What I felt for Ntwanu scared me but I was not ready to let go. 

I called Guru to tell him about my plans and told him not to tell Ntwanu. We thrashed our differences. He was angry that I had exchanged him for Ntwanu but told me he begged him to let him come into my life. His problem was that I accepted. We settled on he still protecting me as we maintained a civil relationship. So I went to work. 

My client for that evening was a depressed man. He looked like he wanted to cry. I sat opposite him in his huge hall and tried to cheer him up. 

“I have been in serious problems for sometime now but the sky is clearing. I may not know what you are going through but do pull yourself together. Your friends contracted me to be with you for a reason”

“I don’t want anything. Just leave” was his only answer.

I did not leave. I went to his kitchen, boiled some water, poured it into a bucket and with my additional towel, called him authoritatively to the bed. He was taken by utter surprise. I massaged him roughly, then gently. After the water went cold, I used his shea butter to smear him from his bald pate to his soles and gently massaged him with my fingers. When I got to his crotch, I gave it a proper palm to skin massage, he came without intending to and felt very shy. I laughed it off, kissed his crotch and proceeded to sit on it when it woke up again. All the while, I continued to massage him as I rode him like a needy horse.

By the time I was through with him, he had warmed up to me.

“They all died in an accident. They all died!”

He broke down. This time, I listened without any form of interruptions. 

“I was always busy with work acquiring all these things. My wife complained but I did not mind her. I did not do anything she wanted. All she wanted was time with me. Quality time. She also wanted me to enhance my penis a little but I did not mind her. I learnt my lesson when I met her with our neighbour’s twenty four year old son in bed. I felt small. I felt little. A powerful man like me felt like an ant. I left home for a while to think things through, came back four days later to find a letter on the centre table.”

He paused to cry for a while. 

“The gateman told me they had left few minutes before I came in. The letter asked for a divorce and a fair child support for our three children. She was never a materialistic woman. Barely ten minutes had passed when I got a call that they had been involved in an accident. When I reached the scene, they had all died. Grinded into paste in a blood mess by an articulator truck on the Tema Highway. I don’t know how I have been living since then. It’s been two years! Two whole years young lady.”

I understood his pain then. How do you comfort a 54 year old man who had lost his entire family in a ghastly motor accident on the ticket of marital problems which stirred from wife neglect? I went to stand behind him and massaged him from shoulders down. All the while singing:

“When peace like a river

Attended my way

When sorrows like seas billows roll

Whatever my Lord

You have taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul”

His tears subsided so I sat beside him. He coiled himself like a short millipede and laid his head on my laps. I left when he fell asleep because his friends had paid me beforehand.

The next morning, he called to thank me and invited me to lunch. He took me out and bought me a car. A brand new saloon Toyota Camry. I tried to decline but he would not take no for an answer. He said I gave him back his life. I gave him hope for tomorrow. I gave him the needed peace, I woke him from the sleep of living dead. That night I slept like a baby, feeling glad that I could, through prostitution touch a life in the positive. Of course, everyday is a unique day and comes with its varied surprises.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 2017.

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​GHANA SUCKLEMENTS

When the same breast nurses many mouths 
From stomachs of greed and or promises

Milk evaporates and calls for the blood of the mother

Showcasing paleness of her body

Awo Yaa!

May this portion of yours change for the better!


II

This building which has seen the palms of many masons

And still suffers from foundational weakness

Due to stolen cement

Unbought stones

Unpurchased water

Which are all buried in the belly of pockets

Housing blood of the land

Is to be pitied

Awo Yaa!

May this portion of yours change for the better!


III

This vehicle whose driver and mate

Dwell on the monies of passengers

But do no servicing

Even as it creaks in painful destruction by the day

Rebelling here in concerns

There in embarrassment

Needs a different story

Before it breaks what it protects

Awo Yaa!

May this portion of yours change for the better!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 16, 2017

​COME BACK

Videos keep playing

Where you shyly, with roses

In sweat, called Holy Moses 

In proposing


II

How a perfect vehicle

Zoomed into a thorny bush

And saw itself in an empty desert

Has opened my sky of tears


III

The video of you playing horse

In the shore of peace

Me, playing sheep

In the shores of settlement

Begs to be born

But alas! Time’s driver refuses to reverse


IV

From electrifying kisses

To enemy hisses

Touching Blisses

To sad misses

Painful disses

Which threw in the hard pisses

I wish it all did rhyme


V

Where the road is long

And pair needs to share

Do come back

I sure will be the smile

Which will go the mile

And the knot which will end the flow of chaos


IV

These sheets have placed me

And the phantom you in a court of blame

It so does me shame

And I wish you could see

Do come back if lateness is not the arms of another

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 16, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

​PROPHESY TO ZIMBABWE

Dust for powdered pepper

Or powdered pepper for dust?

Which blows now with the air of Mugabe

In the Zim Nation?

I see chicken to hawk, hawk to eagle

In a devilish transition


II

Destruction sure needs some action

From any faction with an apt reaction

But the leg of time shortens celebration

And or “frownation”

For already made shoes of fame

No matter how tattered presents a choice of ease

Deleting zeal and placing seals on power

Sometimes in the worst forms

Oh careful!

You might be running from a worm to a cobra!


III

Political eyes are pious only in opposition

Greed stamps most signatures in the highest seats in all lands

Great tongues of sages are caged by enmity

We are in an act of jubilation

Probably from the land of the Pharisees 

Hoping to get to Israel without thoughts of hardships

Reckless risks rip ripe ribs

Throwing chances into hide and seek gutters

Let ears with wise holes sip the wisdom from this scribe

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©November 15, 2017

​HAUNTING A GIGOLO

Since age knocked its understanding tag

In my infantile brain

I was given a telescope

Whose only visions were of the past

A telescope which killed the zeal of laughter

Planting in its stead a vile rage for revenge

Watered by society’s hails at my target

And its many chains of laws for my kind


II

Like a bull with a target

I charged at a decade and eight

Towards a fine breed of its demigods

Pouring all the gold of my ancestry at his feet

And disrespectfully asking that he worked his waist

Into my pleasure into my treasure

At my leisure


III

His teeth showed a blessed awakening

And like a goat, he held my coat of cloth

The dark little hut which stood in the compound of many

Promised me no privacy

The bed’s posture whispered a higher creaking

A pound and another and another and another

My resolution, no tears, no show of pain

Until he lost his all and started to call to be saved

I envisaged his shame!


IV

An hour and a half

My energy grazed out

My field had turned muddy

My little opening had been manholed

His screams for my well being pushed the listeners in

What they saw brought in society’s law

Burying me in the shoes of my wronged ancestry

With the antonym of a gigolo

Planting trees always loses to waterers, I guess

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 14, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics.

NHYIRA

Day has broken from the clutches of darkness

Aiding eyes, like a pathfinder

To see all in clarity

If breath stands at post

And health is on wealth’s coast

I say “anyame mu Nyame”

Nhyira nka wo din!


II

I can see hens leading their chicks

And cocks looking for stocks

Through the warning of wings

The insults of crows

Through the biting of beaks

And the uprooting of feathers

Through a run and a chase

Life sure says a lot about onlookers

“Ɔsoro soro Nyame, nhyira nka wo din!”


III

Let minds in mine know the miracles of thinking

Let hands in mine know the blessing in working

Let tongues in mine know the worth of silence

Let legs in mine know the advantages of walking

And let all stomachs in mine

Know the importance of selectiveness

Life is life because strive is rife

“Omintinmirim Nyame, nhyira nka wo din”

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 13th Nov. 2017

(To all non speakers of Akan, the quoted versions mean “thanks be to God”)

​GETTING USED TO

Let mouths allow eyes to roll

Instead of calling sounds in heels

To defile lung’s peaceful siesta

What is “ayoo” today

Might have been “bue!” yesterday

But will be “ahaaa!” tomorrow

Harvesting ovations on all stages
II

New things raise brows

Coming with scares which snake into veins like poison

But when they simmer

Minds embrace their enticings

And mate their presence even into obsession

Abomination today, fascination tomorrow

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 9, 2017

​LEST WE FORGET

There is a volcano of needs

Needs which fill not the belly of satisfaction

Instead dig bottomless needs 

Which gobble time needed to look

Look to love

Love to smile

Smile to laugh

Laugh to live

Live to write memories on our beloveds’ minds

Spank our senses

Lest we forget our paths

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 7th November, 2017

PAUSE TO THINK

We 

Carry burdens like abused porters

Forgetting the immobile end

Which for few moments trends

Only to turn garnish on memories of the past
II

We 

Cloud our emotions to rain our eyes to drain

Forgetting life’s refrain is transiency

Gathering rubbish which may outlast our taunting gibberish
III

We

Sit with thoughts that over thinking bought

And never seek the peace to keep us at ease

Suffocating on the rope of worry

When immortality is a scary nightmare to our very thoughts
IV

We 

Are our own scare

We are our own scissors

Murdering our seams

Destroying our buttons

Eating our linen into the mouths of hungry graves

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 7, 2017

CHANGE THE SCRIPT

The gate of another day opens

With varied happenings written in the future slate of fate

Like a marathon, we run with enthusiasm

Hoping our baton would reach our target

But if we hurt ourselves

Or have our breaths arrested by tiredness

You who writes it all

Change the script to fit our emotions!
II

Our tasks stare at us 

Like owls whose eyes have caught an interest

Fixing rays of terror

Which surely feed on our uncertainties

If pores succumb to the dictates of fear

And legs, like that of broken donkeys kneel

Bow to the gods of failure

You who writes it all

Change the script to fit our emotions!
III

Monsters of the past are on our heels

In slippery then muddy then stony paths

Hoping for our souls as trophies

Our bodies on their plates

If we end up as their game

Poked by their guns and cutlasses of bragging

You who writes it all

Change the script to fit our emotions!
IV

In a sphere of many talents

Where tortoises watch hens fly in jealousy

Forgetting their hard shell

Cocks feel the supremacy of hawks 

As hawks fear the very grounds of eagles

If we get to the abattoir of greed 

Whose sole hunger needs us to feed

You who writes it all

Change the script to fit our emotions!
V

There is no balm as soothing as your touch

There is no doctor as gifted as you

There sure is no seer better than you

So if we bend in hot coals of our chaos

Roasted by our fallible flaws

You who writes it all

Change the script to fit our emotions!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 6, 2017

​DANCING ON STARS


I bless that day

When a whirlwind swept me from serenity into doom

Only to be rescued by your light

Like a Samaritan Knight from hell’s pot


II

I bless the day

When words meekly walked with shaking legs

Out from the private street of your tongue

To plead for a table in my heart’s spot

Under an adorable and humble sky


III

I bless the day

When my heart stretched its hands 

To hold the arms of your love

And saw your perfect smile

Dancing to the rhythm of your heartbeat


IV

I bless the day

When we danced on the moon of flutters

In the land of onehood 

Where each being was neutralised into non existence

As stars of our hearts shone into blending

In a festival of happiness


V

I bless the day

That day when your tears touched my cheeks

At the wince of my skin

Seeing your suffering at my body’s lashes of illness

I bless

I do bless

Oh I do bless the day

When your path crossed mine

At the junction of love

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 4, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics

IN THE HEART OF TRUTH

In the heart of truth lies an ocean of despair

Flanked by trees of fear

For the rejection of abnormal normalcy

In a sea of friendship
II

In the heart of truth stands a tent of loneliness

Where each greedy finger points like a gun

With intentions that can form spiritual bullets

To kill the best turned weird
III

In the heart of truth lies the court of most

Whose stomachs condone manipulations of hand and mouth

Shielding thunders of consciences

And pushing them onto the unique idiot
IV

In the heart of truth

Everything is war, everything is pain

Everything is uncertainty

Everything can be anything

Yes, in the heart f truth

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 2, 2017

UNCANNY ASSOCIATIONS (CRAZY STANZAS)


Legs take crowns to ordered places

To taste the grounds of its worship

Hearts engine dreams

To feel the pulse of success in the end

Tongues channel foods to intestines

To sip a taste from every bite

All the above with pinches of truth

Our elders did us in with some wise sayings

You lick the crown of your teeth no matter how bitter it tastes

Better a good thing at home

So many minds, like rehearsed fingers

Play the tune of mischief

The anthills and griffonia simplicifolia have no need to thank each other

A favourite proverb carved by sages in their peak of wisdom

But the anthills gain the same worth as the griffonia simplicifolias

Now modernity seems to present replays of uncanny comparisons

To anthills and their griffonia simplicifolias


II

Instead of maintaining moisture to aid their anthills 

In times of drought

They, like moths on living bodies, search for weak spots

To induce death

So they can eat once and for all

Forgetting they are the very essence of their living

Oh, maybe they know near bodies in wait for exploitation

Which winds weaved us into this wickedness?


III

What are lions who chew their tails in their bid to quench hunger?

What are beings who chew their fingers in their craving for meat?

What are eagles who cut their wings

In their bid to fly higher?

Amazing the brains defecated out of the bowels of greed!

When will wise wits win the war of wicked winning whores?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 30, 2017

​I AM FROM


I am from a land whose hair is gold

Chin is salt

Stomach is petroleum

And feet are rocks

I am from the heart of the strong


II

I am from a land boxed by colonialism

But with a strength which broke free

And stands in the wrestling ring with corruption

A country whose women have seen it all

Beauty for tags

Success for witchcraft

Barrenness for accursed

But still stand as the glue of families

Outshining their labels and harvesting reverence


III

I am from a home with wise breasts

So sucked respect from the nipples of customs

Sucked care from the breast milk of our conventions

Sucked hospitality from the mouth of nature

While holding the feet of our elders

Preparing for better succession


IV

Here, elephants live in respect of beings

Lions live in care with us

Crocodiles watch from distances so do pythons 

As warthogs welcome us into meditation

When we reach the arms of Mole


V

Here 

We hail our ancestors in the protection of our nature

We kneel at the feet of the almighty to cry for worth, life and protection

As the created of our creator

Here, we laugh from the bottom of our souls

A land where loneliness is banished by brotherliness

Sisterhood

And relations

I am from the sitting place of the sun

Where sun rays have been weaved into my crown

And moons lead in mischievous dark nights

I am from

I am proudly from

I am so proudly from

Ghana, nursed from the navel of the Gold Coast

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 29, 2017

​RAIN YOUR FAVOURS


The sky lies emotionless

Far from pates of the helpless

Who like dead wood, are visibly drowning in seas of sadness

I know your heart bleeds for all your seeds

Lord of the earth! Rain your favours!


II

The earth sits hard in a sky battle

Uprooting supporting trees

Breaking bones of all fallen

Whose skins weep at their red tears

As veins plead for their well being

So blood can freely flow

Like desperados, they pray at thy feet

Lord of healers! Rain your favours!


III

Many are confined in shackles of poverty

Losing loved ones as horrifying as their beheading

Their tears like a fountain

Flowing from spirit to soul

Soul to body in shameful repetitions

Oh Lord of hosts! Rain your favours!


IV

I know some have been tied by ropes of lies

And taken into caves of den-like prisons

Watched keenly by judging ignoramuses

Their hearts, their only true testifiers

Yet with no legs to walk into interrogation boxes

To free their hosts

Lord of lords! Rain your favours!


V

Societal expectations are burning the wicks of many lives

Their non conformity, an enemy to their loved ones

Raining loneliness on them

Even in the midst of many

Lord of firsts! Rain your favours!


VI

There are lost souls following greed bowls

Thinking they hold keys to their heaven

And like sheep, tied to poles of manipulations

Bleating only on orders of fake instructions

Lord of all! Rain your favours!


VII

You see the winds of trouble in the lives of all

You know the standing tall and the hurt in fall

You know the caged and hopping eagles

You know hearts being baked in ovens of unfairness

You know the best paths of multiple paths at the junction of dilemmahood

You do know of owls whose eyes mark pitiful ants

In a treeless and soilless realm

Lord of mercy! Do rain your favours!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 29th October, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics.

​IF I KNEW I WOULD BURY MY SEED


If I knew I would bury my seed

And feel the rot which my happiness bought

And rock the cot which cries of cold

I wouldn’t have bothered in its plantation


II

If I knew the ways of death

And of its throat

Which swallowed more than pythons

In a realm where my eyes can’t reach

I wouldn’t have formed for it a pet

Which it would take from my Love’s nest


III

I know I have no power to make

I know I have no power to break

I know I have no power to take

But why does my heart so shake?


IV

Call death to my pain’s court!

Call death to my sorrow’s fort!

Call death to my darkness ring

To show a face which hosts the mouth

To show the mouth which hosts the tongue

That took my seed without a note

So I can touch the soul of my soul

So I can touch the heel of my myth

To be an addition or an exchange deal

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 28, 2017

​THINGS FALL APART


Worship is in a sea of destruction

Being torn apart by most of their sailors’ deceptions

Shot by sins which once sat

In front of their potent rifles

Their congregants scattering

For fear of lions of confusions

And bugs of distrust


II

It seems those days are cutting their rope ties

From the chariot of religion

Passions of sluggishness growing with every blast of greed

Temples are fast turning into market places

Many places of worship are now like brothels

Sacred places now act as chaotic as a gambling spot

There are temples of demeaning courts

Severing umbilical cords of the surrendered

From mythical existences

Who planted the moths in this living created?


III

Far eyes see a day

When Christ will turn myth unrecognised

When other prophets will turn stories in mock laughter

When science will take over heads and hearts and highs in every realm

I may be the sand under unknown feet

One thing is clear

These words, born on an easing pot

Will sound loudly in the echoes of my voice

In this worldly cave

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 27, 2017

ANIMAL TAILS IN HUMAN TROUSERS

(This poem was written in memory of all those who have lost their lives due to defilement, all those who are battling complications, battling stigmatization, battling injustices due to defilement, and rape. You have done nothing wrong, you are just unfortunate souls caught in the traps of the wicked. The wicked who one way or the other will pay for your hurt.)

Roses have thorns of protection

Fishes have fins

Tortoises have hard shells

So why did you create a pot with no protective fence?


II

You made us softer like moist clay

You made us fragile like cotton in the wind

With huge responsibilities of making the world

You made us houses with no wire fences

You made us vulnerable to pests and preys and parasites

What was your plan?


III

A youngster lies in her struggling bed

Her pride box broken into by one with your will

One with a talking conscience

One who knows the boarders of hurt and dishonour

One whose land lord umbrellas him from the rains of justice

Oh your architecture might have had an error!

Blasphemy, I know

But even you can’t tamper with a writer’s licence in freedom


IV

Look and make us your experimentation

To build better us in future days

So claws can fence holes of pleasure

In our proper protection

Look and make them your experimentation

To give proper locks in future

So in their wake with horror intents

Their locks will hold them in

That will only be fair

That will surely be fair

That will certainly be fair

In this jungle of struggle

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 27, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​AS I WAIT


As I wait patiently for you

Counting the marks on this pleasureless ceiling

While lonely canes whip in these dark nights

Anytime sleep goes on its rebellious demonstrations

Are you thinking of me?


II

As I walk these days

Carrying thoughts of you in dilemmahood

As to your existence or nonexistence

Chased by flies of frustrations

Punished by bed bugs of needy thoughts

Are you thinking of me?


III

Anytime dawn cries in my mock deception

And early cocks cut through my little sleep

With machetes of crowing

Painting my eyes with sores of restlessness

Waking a parliament of thoughts in the court of my mind

Are you thinking of me?


IV

It will be a shame for your banana 

To pleasure hungry and vulnerable mouths

In a shameless succession

As I wait in anticipation for our meeting

So I ask even in this apostrophecal madness

Are you thinking of me?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 26, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

LUCK

There are flies born on a sugar plantation

And like blessed tongues live entirely on the sweet

There are eagles born to hens

And like accursed birds, live taking instructions from their meals

Luck is the stamp of fate


II

When the wind blows rain water into the sea

It does it good

Can same be said of blowing it onto fecal matter?

Where were wits when winners won

When losers licked the feet of God for mercy?

Luck is the stamp of fate


III

Let not those born on anthills

See those below as their grounds

Severe winds can blow them down

For luck is a sentimental monster

Which shows no sympathy for its former gods

Yes, luck is the stamp of fate

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 26, 2017

ODOMANKOMAH

My breaths are best in your flow

My heartbeats are best in your machinations

My steps are best in your architecture

My will is best in your seal

Oh Odomankomah! My redeemer!
II

You are the river of blood in my veins

You are the air of life in my daily keep

You are my pill of sleep and my pill of wakefulness!

The beginning of my breath and my resting place

You are the only soul food with no price tag

Oh Odomankomah! My provider!
III

As time marks days into months into years

The sun sees diversity in its bright sight

The moon sees variety in its gentle sight

But you who sees it all, never changeth!

Oh Odomankomah! My strongest fort!
IV

Every part of me belongs to thee so my dedication is fruitless

Every pore in me is your wiring so my every feeling is touchless

Every smell is your channel of blessing 

So my appreciation is nonsensical

But I write your blessing in my heart

In my every step and sound

Odomankomah! My world!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©  October 22, 2017

​THE CHASE OF THE PAST


There are many with flies from the past

Singing in their ears

In a chorus of success

Blocking out lyrics of routes

Driving off trains of talents

If only they can find smoke to ward off their flies


II

There are many being chased by bees of the past

Stinging dry their peace of mind

Planting sores on their bodies of progress

Making their prestigious veins honeycombs

And their bodies shadows in darkness

If only they can find some fires to ward off the bees


III

There are those being followed by lions of their past

Roaring senseless their serenity

Chewing off their hope

Hunting dead their help

And scratching off their eyes

Branding them blind 

And dragging them into the lairs of poverty

If only they can get spears and arrows and guns

To fight off their monsters!


IV

In a world where day battles night

In the field of the sky

In a world where east looks into the face of the west

In vice-versahood

In a world where kingdoms vary in habitations

It will take skill for a fish to taste a land without waters

It will take skill for beings to taste the sky without ropes

It will take skill for a worm to share a tree with a hungry bird

Let all fight off chasing monsters

In this forest of conflict

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 18th October, 2017

​THIS FEAST OF THE STRONG

On this dining table
Sits gluttonous greed

Whose hunger, all the food, in quench, unable

Connivance knows but stooges for crumbs

Forgetting the coming with roaring bellies

Whose eyes may never see the feast

Forgetting the frail

Whose bodies can go nowhere near the monstrous Greed

Forgetting the children whose growth

Depend on the nutrients of the present


II

Looting has now become tickets for everything

Yet pennies of paupers are forced from the hearts of their pockets

Into the stomachs of pockets of greed

Oh ye sleeping gods of the land!

Please wake!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 15th October, 2017

IN MY GENDERFULNESS

There is this air around mine
That many of yours claim is fine

But to get through most streets there is a whine

Of how many legs in us must dine
II

Our mouths are like toffees in thy eyes

Our cheeks look like handkerchiefs in thy sight

Our breaths sound like tickling airbags in thy mind

And when your eyes scroll down our natural chest

All you see are delicious milk jars

And it follows through to our “goldmines”

Mines which “enrich” your devilish greed

So cause your craze and faze your morality

Rubbishing our mind’s efforts
III

In a world where dresses must lose to muscled shirts

In order to pass through most streets of success

Where does fairness sit

In this healthy intellectual struggle?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 16, 2017

​CALL THEM

As hands in drowning wave
Do, mouths whose garnished promises flee, call

To the destitute save

Lest we all fall


II

As needs outweigh our feeds

Do all, in patriotic shed blood, call

To drive the spirit which on our minds feeds

So our confidence will stand tall


III

As green spirits are being, from their bodies, ejected

Do, all alien priests call

To open the gates of heaven for all the rejected

In unsynced bodies in its hall


IV

Eyeballs shaking like tsunamis on the dock

Senses tied in darkness and in lock

Bodies following enemies like a flock

Don’t you see your future’s shock?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©15th October, 2017

ASEDA

Any comfortable visitor

Who fails to thank the landlord

Is worse than the worst of sneaking snakes

“Otwereduampong! 

Ananafo mu Nana! Kokromoti a yensan wo ho mbɔ pɔ”

I serve my thanksgiving in the plate of my being


II

You built these bones as builders use stones

You laid these veins as plumbers lay pipes

You wired these pores as electricians wire their houses

Carved this being as carvers carve their best crafts

And connected your living magic to turn me on life

Like a magic television

With freedom in mobility and will


II

As I bridge storms and cross mountains

You hold on to my saving rope

To open the gates of another day with a flower of hope

Erasing my disgusting moping

Turning my past hurts into present jokes

How do I neglect your thanksgiving?


III

You are that one wall which never shakes

You are that one love that never breaks!

You are that one sky which always clears

You are the permanent tunnel which never clogs

You are the breath tree which never dies

Nor succumbs to any form of cutting

“Awura mu Owura!

Ahenfo mu Ɔhene!

Animdeɛfo mu Nimdeɛfo!”

I say thank you from the beginning of my thread of life

Through its lighting till its wick burns out!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 15th October, 2017

​FORGET ME NOT

Sitting on the chair-like forget-me-not

You promised to keep our love hot

To the hearing of the inquisitive air

And all nature that is fair

I remember the clouds turn up

In their darkest colour

And sent their rains to record the promise

Many months saw not the veil of a year

But here I am being looked upon  by a tree whose name box out my sadness

Like a cursed fly in a cry

Suddenly, heat roasts the sweat out of these pores

Pores which are sore but all ignore

Those horrid clouds hide like they were never born

As the airs act strangers, shielding their elder siblings

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 14, 2017

​THE NATION OF LOVE

Citizens are protected

Protected by the laws of the land

Laws which beat and lock and kill to fill voids

How is it that the nation of love has no laws?


II

When disappointment hovers around its appointments

Chaos hides behind its partitions of glitters

Pain waits in chambers of the capital of its royalties

And tears stand behind its deceptive happiness

How does the nation of love 

Maintain its supremacy without legislative rules?


III

From villages of serenity

To  cities of heartbreaks

Waters of fulfilment to droughts of shame

Satisfaction in completion to hunger of loneliness

How come no security stands guard on this dangerous ground?


IV

Despite the punches of leftovership

And the assault of bond breakages

Where fears form clouds of tears and rain sleepless nights amidst monstrous jeers

How is it that no court exists for justice?

Is the nation of love like a phantom?

Or more like a catastrophe hidden in a fantastic parcel?

Is it like a sugar coated toffee

Hoarding sours which chews tongues and uproots teeth?

Bees of its publicity abounds 

First as butterflies

Oh ye nation whose memories cannot be erased!

A nation which favours the unfavoured 

With an allure none can resist!

I leave your fort in the now to show your bruises

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 13, 2017

​NO BRA DAY

Mobile breasts

Marching on breast cancer day

Pickaxes of manly tubers

*****************************

Locomotive breasts 

On horses of varied chests

Beautifully nectared flowers on the go

*********************************

Heads in weird rhythms

Sip from advocacy cups

Not sticks of naughty passions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 13, 2017

PERSPECTIVES

​The stance of an eye

And its distance

Determines the visions thereof

Like plants in the different pores of the earth

We stand in view of a portion

So how can our mouths be in judgement seats

Audienced by other eyes and ears

In marking right from wrong?


II

God may appear in different beings things and souls

To different beings, things and souls

An eye may see God in a river

A river another deem his chamber pot

Another may see Him in another being

A being who may seem foolish to another

Another may see Him in the sky

The sky which some consider only in lightning and darkening plate

Some skin may feel Him in words

Words which act noise in the ears of others

There are those who see Him in animals

Animals which serve as delicacies to others

What about those who see Him in stones?

Stones which are naught but hindrance to some farmers

So who has the best eyes to judge?


III

Who has the best eyes to judge?

I believe it is none but an ignorant crown

Who sees and knows only what society plastered in his mind

Let thinking minds sit into digging

Digging best from the knowledge of what is

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 13, 2017

​A MAP FOR PASSIONS (ADULT POETRY)

Stars have their spots

When the curtains of daylight fall

There, they shine brightest

There, they sync well in their work of lighting

This body, is like your sky of darkness

Take a tour and know the star spots


II

Your fingers are like combs for a reason

Planted hair needs its massaging fertility

To like a bee, make its honey of passion

So let them explore the hair plantation

And weed the stress which hide beneath


III

Your food gate is with air for a reason

Feed the skin with gentle blows and touches

To, like electricity

Light the bulb of passion

One that can lead you in your needed explorations


III

A fountain needs a clear tube for water to dazzlingly show

Like a good plumber

Match the tubes and lay well your pipes

Connect them to the river of the body

And let it flow

Before thinking of a pleasure swim


IV

Swim with a gentle step after another

Jumping in like a big excited fish

Will sure splash waters on a perfect dock

Laying traps of slippery grounds

For unsuspecting issues



V

Be sure to swim from dock and back

Do not drown in the middle of your man made river

Many fishes will see your failure

And the river will curse your weakness


VI

Do lock bodies like a secured padlock

To mark your happiness

And only open with the key of satisfaction

For then, all calm will be restored

And the seeds of love would be thoroughly watered

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 12, 2017

Photo Credit: Googlepics

SOLILOQUY

How do I find my way?

In this jungle of life

Where fangs chase on this careless mother earth

As claws chase in the indifferent sky?


II

How do I find my way?

When hurtful thorns are ever ready to butcher my skin

And have them on their necks as conquerors?

Hisses with poisonous spittle

Drive vehicular air

Air which has promised breath until old age umbrellas!

How? 

Just how do I find my way?


III

Owl eyes hide in the dark to scare

Hungry lionesses hunt in a determined chase

Cunning alligators act chameleons to mislead

As my sunlight serves its lifetime in an imprisoned dark cloud

How? Just how do I find my way

In this jungle where everything hunts in ambition?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 12th October, 2017

DETERFLY

The butterfly which sits on the tip of an uneatable leaf

In hope of a wind taking it to the flower with a nectar cup

Without lifting its healthy wings in direction

Is bound to blame its God 

For the sluggish crime of itself


II

The mosquito which sits on a pore for long,

Like a hungry glutton on its delicacy,

Hoping to fill its tank for a lifetime

Never lives to tell the tale of the elderly


III

Heads are carried for a reason

Skins are shed in its season for a reason

Thinking wires need no pickaxes

In digging meaning from words of sages

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 11, 2017

​A KITTEN IN THE LION’S SEAT

If historic eyes had seen this future

Where a kitten mounts a lion’s seat

They sure would have cemented their feet

And stopped the clock

Before seeing their shadows fall


II

How can a kitten paw fit into a lion’s?

How can a kitten rule over fierce tigers?

Golden fishes?

Huge elephants?

Fearsome crocodiles?

Mischievous monkeys?

Wise snakes?

Egoistic eagles?

Prying owls?

Huge cows?

Loud dogs?

Fiery dragons?

And all other characters in the golden jungle?


III

If only the kitten will mute the horrifying weak meows

Carried through the strong crown of a microphone

Onto the ear plates of the world

In ridicule of the golden jungle

If only its kitten plays

Would take place on an eyeless and earless stage!

If only it would allow baby lions to train its zero brain

If only, if only


IV

Now far eyes like mine look in sympathy

At the golden stool which taunted many into fools

Then into working bulls 

To climb to their prestigious peak

Knowing the disaster being written in its deserving history

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 10, 2017