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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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?

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?

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

TOOTHLESS DOGISM

Our breaths have been marked

Marked for the roars of freshness

And the silence thereafter like that of toothless dogs

Our sad songs continue on world stages

But why do sympathies sit uninterested

Sipping their “serves you right” wines

Even as our hurtful passions sync with their instruments?

III

Could it be the need for quarter buttocks

To get the glue of octagonism

On the famed seat of governance

Through playing saints into stooging to please us into teasing in deceasing?

Or our baby milk lacks the willpower to stand for the right

Erasing pain in forgetful insanities

Making troubles into strong footballs

Knocking us down and bouncing back in hitting

When we stand back on our feet in repetitive annoyance?

Our elders lied not

When they said forgetting pain begs for more

Yet we defy their stance like disobedient children

Pouring lives through unfair death colanders

Which wicked gods follow us in white man’s sneakers?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 8, 2017

THE GIRL COMING OUT OF THE SHADOW

The dark is a cool place to hide

But a cruel place to be

Every leg can boot, step on her

Every spittle can fall on, bathe her

Every phlegm can plaster, plaster her

Every urine can shower, shower her

Every fecal matter can smear, smear her like disgusting pomade

And no sweat can be seen

Sad, that many a man, feel it is a place for a lass

Beauty is a blessing, many agree

But beauty has broken deep into hymens and has been blamed for existing

Beauty has been to many a cruel court

And lost battles uncountable

Beauty has been rendered mouthless by many a man’s greed

Like a flower at birth, beauty mostly dies a rag

What then is the difference between a blessing and a curse in the feminine line?

III

Be beautiful by being a bull

Ridden, hidden, ladened, maddened, frightened or killed!

Hide in the heat of a veil

To tempt not the saints!

Let the sound of your voice taste not the ears of others

Be the dog of man, living for his pleasures and whims!

What at all rooted the birther as slave to the birthed?

He must go and you must stay

Explorations best fit pestles and not mortars!

Such an uncanny law

As if fufu sees the light of day without a mortar!

I am ashamed of the many brains buried untapped

Pained by the many wills imprisoned at birth

Hurt by the many ambitions sentenced to death by societal courts

Frustrated at the many souls, lost to the evils of the dark

Shadows within shadows!

Amazing the sprouts of minds on this farm land of life

Minds hitherto buried like tubers of yam in the heat of the earth

And left rotten

Minds planted in painful marriages

And killed by servitude and abuse coupled with neglect

What beauty stands!

How lovely the rains of emancipation!

Falling to fertilize the birth of girly can-dos!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 7, 2017

IN A FOOL’S HARDY

Once Kwaku Ananse met a Baboon

One who was fetching water with a basket from a river

At the feet of a mountain

Into a drum at the pate of the mountain

Out of pity for an artificial brain tiring a living body

He stopped to help

He called on the Baboon to use his pot

But then he rejected

With the excuse that the pot is too fragile

Agya Ananse asked when it started its chore

With a foresight of pointing to its futility

Baboon mentioned a week and a half

As to who ordered the chore

His partner at the farm on which only he worked into readiness

Baboon insisted the basket needed air

And that God will miraculously help fill the tank

If he worked in dedication

Agya Ananse realized, that the baboon loved its state

And had made its fate

Any attention to him tainted his sagehood

And so it was, that Ananse left Baboon

On his chore whose core point would be his death

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 6, 2017

A TEACHER

Every teacher is a potter
One who digs the clay of the mind

And gives it moisture

Amidst pounding and kneading

To get the right texture

Setting it on the wheel in direction

To mould the right item through heat in finality

Every teacher is a farmer

One, who prepares the land of all ready minds

For knowledge planting

Choosing the best seed based on the type of soil

Is a teacher’s blessing in wisdom

Knowing the weeds which will burden

And finding time to weed them out of the planted

Is a natural duty

III

Every teacher is a driver

A driver of the unenlightened to enlightened destinations

Knowing not the right route will cause the loss of all passengers

Driving without a license will cause unnecessary delays

A driver knows that time is imperative to all on board

A corrupt driver shows quick and diabolic routes to passengers

Power drunkenness and speed can cause a fatal accident

A teacher is like a writing god

One who writes not on pads but in mind

One whose mistakes have no ready erasers

One whose soil lives on his dictate in fertility

One who can make and break

There is no greater life led not in teaching

A teacher is a director

A director of all minds

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 5, 2017

THE POTS CALLED BREASTS

I have known rivers that have run out
Their sleeping places weeping on blame of thirst

But you in your small spots

On varied chests, feed the world

From vacant suckers to the teeth full

Not only do you subdue man

Into knowing his forever child-like nature

You give women the pride of shape

Our pampering, even in loving runs

Telling tales of your value

Oh you pots which never run useless!

III

The standing you, order many into bonkerhood

The fallen you tell of your good works in world building

You are like a sea on the softer man

A sea in which many swim into sanity and or insanity

You are the manna for the world’s new visitors!

The clutches of passion!

The honour of world feeding!

We know many stifle you in showcasing

We know many anoint you into a man charm

We know many suffocate you in clothes coated in dirt

We do know of those who never pay heed to you

But make sure you honour your duties

But these would never make you less of the saviour you are

You are the first food of man

The first teacher of tongues in sweets and sours

So your celebration remains a ritual

Even if mouths sing not of your goodies

Pots whose food never run out

Some call your younger you titties

And your elderly, tartars

Others call you boobs

We know you as breasts

Pairing angels in tender feeding!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 4, 2017

IN YOUR GARDEN

In your scented garden
You left many flowers

Maybe for your precious lavenders

Maybe to heal foul scents

Maybe to sooth the thirst of precious birds in their prime

Maybe to multiply and beautify the land

But the harvesters of scents have been harvesting the nectar

Before they blossom to bless the temples of noses

The lavender harvesters now sit

Looking for perfected flowers to work with

And realize they are all scentless

Yet they stand tall

Their egos hanging as their badges of honour

Claiming no knowledge of the disaster

While stepping on the dead pride of all your fallen flowers

Whose teeth of thorns roar voiceless

In the death of their pride

Where are the eyes you left in watch?

III

How legs meant to protect have turned bees

Fetching nectars through unformed hymens

Beats my imagination

How those same pretentious legs

Search for full and ripe nectars to crown their egos

Sits on the thoughts of my mind

How you, who sees it all, stand the pretention

Now acts like a dog, chasing the meat in my head

Your garden now reeks of filth

Your flowers turned mere weeds

Calling for your hoes even in fear of death

What kind of farmer at thou?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 30, 2017

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE MY FRIEND (CRAZY STANZAS)

What does it mean to be my friend?
Is it the whispering rumouring

Like naughty airs being tossed by blocking walls?

Or the sharing of secrets

Which are kept in our brainy books of memories?

Or even the taste of our handkerchiefs

At the sips of our overflowing eyes

In the heat of sadness?

What explanation does our codification of friendship give?

Shouldn’t it be stronger than hatred?

I know two close trees bump into each other often

Just as tongues battle teeth in chewing

Shouldn’t it be greater than distance?

Oh is this world not a bouncer of beings?

Today sits here as tomorrow moves there

Shouldn’t it be greater than silence?

Even wits rest when the dawn of thoughts fall

When a mouth closes in thoughts, can’t the other call?

Shouldn’t it be greater than intuition?

Oh human fallibilities tap from our abilities

What greater cause is there than clarity?

Shouldn’t it be greater than rumours?

Those smokes which spark forest fires are not always from the hunter’s match!

Shouldn’t it be greater than wealth?

Money is blood but blood alone makes no being!

Shouldn’t it be greater than darkness?

Hands are there to feed minds

When darkness falls upon eyes’ light

To fix the severed or join good threads

Shouldn’t it be greater than jealousy?

Hearts are fickle and yearning can clash

In the heat of pain can we dwell on sanes?

What does it mean to be my friend?

III

Read my thoughts in the memories we shared

Fix my void with the delights which clothed our minds

Run me a chore with the past which was meant to last

This trolley of life knows no stops

So why burn the ages rooted in the archives of our history?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 25, 2017

THE MASK OF CLASS

This class mask
Is it not a daunting task?

This heat of a task

Does it have a dawn and a dusk?

Even chameleons tire of stealing reflections

So why model your deflections?

I see a whore in clothes of virgins

An unscrupulous you modelling pious clothes

Why is a pedophile rocking a priestly cassock?

As a servant fits into a kingly crown

I see a demon in angelic gown

While hell parades as heaven

Why doesn’t pretense come with a tag?

III

Fuss of a cuss!

Artificial makeups in a fit!

Heels of lying hills!

Clothes of phantoms!

Boxers of stealing pythons!

Anuses usurping mouths on faces!

The world of a classless classes

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 25, 2017

A MOTHER’S SPECTACLES

A mother’s spectacles

Is like a fairy oracle

Her love, making her a congregant in her children’s tabernacle

In them is her miracles

So in their diabolicals, she gets no logicals

Even their unfunny jokes act comical

On a stage most find horrible

Oh her love is so adorable!

Who forgets the stretch of stomach walls?

The boiling pain in saucepans of breasts?

Who forgets the load of carrying

Like a world in an ever growing lead in the stomach?

Who forgets the taunting back pain

Which sounds like the whips of an annoyed demon of hell?

Who forgets the pushing and tearing

Or the knifing and stitching

And oh the grinding of sores

Which swells innocent pores?

Who forgets flattening breasts like fallen pancakes?

Who forgets the bloating and sleeplessness?

Who forgets the culprits of these ills and loves like an enchanted fool?

III

None but a mother

One who can pluck her life from life’s tree

If her own can sit comfortably on it

Oh a mother’s spectacles!

A lens none can get

Without stretching on the life and death path

Of opening life’s doors

Either in heart, mind or body to others

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 23, 2017

LIKE WATER

Kokrokooooo!
Gather all ye unhappy hens

From the coops of your watching owners

Gather, ye who need chicks to follow their cocks

Come all ye aggrieved

Water has lessons to show

It tastes heavens and licks the earth

It knows the hearts of mountains and

The feet of the earth

It convenes to carry ships and boats

While feeding as many as wishes

But none has seen and tasted rear foods

In their horribilities like it

III

It knows the human body like no other

It is a big part of the living factor

Pushing filth and running grace

Yes, it evaporates in too high a heat for rebirth

And metamorphoses into stone in severe cold

But returns to its normal form

And keeps doing its natural chores

When blocked, it can kill at will

But still, water’s bill is a thing none can fill

And its benevolent height is a hill none can till

No living can be without water

Shape all forms as you want

Be like water

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 22, 2017

WHICH IS THE RIGHT WAY

Which is the right way?

The rough route with sharp stones

The smooth route with the slippery oil?

Or the cool road built with a painful patience?

Which is the right way?

Rebellion to conquer slavery

Battle to kill desires

Or dialogue to smoothen seams?

Which is the right way?

III

Bliss is an expensive kiss

Which, as flies sitting on sugar, feeds on work

On patience

On humility

On sacrifices

Yet many want a goal without a run

Mouths can curse and bless

As teeth watch and tongues stir

A choice calls from all angles

Heed your best to get a chest

Which reliably follows through your hollows

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 20, 2017

YOUR MAGNANIMITY

Lord God

Your fallibility tool in the living

Is a great disservice to you

Yet magnanimity is one of your gracious parts

You sure are the only thumb

Without whom no rope can be tied

The I am that none is

Jehovah!

The crow of a cock in the day

Might be complaints but you deem it praise

The meekness of a sheep might be folly

But your graceful thoughts attaches obedience

The stubbornness of the goat is unquestionable

But your nature makes it a trace of determination

And so it is

That you wired us with all the traits there are

Giving us will to select

III

You’re not just an Alpha and Omega

You’re not just Omnipotent, Omniscient and Omnipresent

You’re not just Elshadai, Elohim and Adonai

You are an all perfect God

Who hides the sun under rain

Hides the moon in the dark

Hides rain in thirst

And food in hunger

Can I complete the testament of your grace?

You hide tears in laughter

Greatness in slavery

Strength in weakness

And oh life in death!

Immortal, Invisible, only president of sages!

I worship thee

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 17, 2017

COMMON SENSE

The beginning of bad thoughts

Marked the end of harmless nakedness

That I know

The beginning of birth

Birthed the beginning of death

That too I know

III

The beginning of want

Dug the endlessness of need

Well, took a while to harvest that on the tree of thought

Greed is sometimes a seed of need

Which felt thirst in the belly of hearts

And was boxed by hunger into anger in the loam of minds

What has turned puzzle

Wriggling its weight on my mind

Is what turns them snakes to bite themselves

Chewing some and hiding much under their land

Do they need the dawn of death

To see the handiwork of disaster

In their signature on themselves?

Chai! Common sense seems to hang on higher skies

To hearts in hurry for much

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) September 13, 2017

RIVERS IN SEAS

When rivers stood in their dreams

They forgot of days they acted as streams

And tasted filth, felt the sharp teeth of stones

And travelled miles in the lone

They, now in pride, bloat

As they on top of seas float

Blocking streams and rivers

Who in need of strength shiver in quivers

Forgetting tsunamis still have power

To on their happy fate tower

The future sure blinds

So we do need to mark our hinds

In this travel

Which in uncertainty wobble

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 15, 2017

AHWENE PA

Improper waist beads

Shouting in least bumping

Your thread tears in fears of tear

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 12, 2017

GOD ON HIS THRONE

We are like trees
Problems are like our earth

Each can’t be

If the earth refuses entry

Roots are like our will

Meandering through sand

Around rocks

On worms and running rats

Hunting water and food

We know God is at post

His all seeing eyes watching his little garden

Knowing the roots making him proud

Knowing the rocks arresting some wills

Seeing some waters drowning some roots

Seeing some worms eating away some roots

Seeing some sands even killing some roots

Cheering on the strongest to the end

In his unseen throne

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 11, 2017

WORLD OF WAR (Crazy Stanzas)

I know not much

I am no Methuselah as such

But I do know whatever war touches

Does with chaos marches
II

Like monsters of the night, hurtful words hold no soothing balm

In their flight to the land of any mind

Like terrorists on their site, bullets have no hearts, hands or eyes

To root out revenge before landing on their targets

Like savages in hunger, swords have no allergies when feeding on human bodies

As obedient children in diligent works, arrows obey the hands which need their errand

Bombs know not their gods but work in their moments like tsunamis

Believe their chore for an enemy

Will surely conceive naught but perfection

Know that moulded feuds lose their reasons with time

But feed fat on innocent lives

Lives whose souls begrudge without a cause

How long do hearts travel in beating

To force minds into scheming hatred,

Roasting plans of traps and

Cooking death formulas?
III

We are cotton strands in transient travels

Through the path of earth

We are stars who taste the palms of the sky

Once in a nightly travel

We are fireflies hopping on the arms of days into oblivion

We are but future memories

Waiting to be washed by dilutions

We are that which needs no complicated weavings

In apparels of mortality

We are minds which need to swim in seas of love

Until the mythical hands do hunt our breaths

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 8, 2017

SCARED OF LONELINESS

There are many roots beneath a single tree

Yet it needs many others to break winds

There are many brooms running and breaking free

But their strength in numbers, all fear rescinds

Sometimes, even fecal worms, do space need

Sometimes, even water, do drops be

But a sea stands more chance of waving at a shore

Than a drop of water

III

I need you

Like I need this breath in its running seconds

I need him

Like I need this body in every moment

I need her

Like I need this heart in its working beats

I need them

Like I need this earth in every living sphere

I need us

As yam plants need their mounds

In the garnishing of age

On this queer me

This memory needs no sage

To know that wrinkles are sensitive to loneliness

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 7, 2017

OBLIVION

One day

The mist of this pain will blur

As the reality of this living clears

Minds will think of me as a cloud

Which fell in a moment to give the thirsty rain

Not as a thirsty whose tears quenched the dryness in other throats

Under the drought of helplessness

One day

This running heartbeat will lose its mobility

The eyes which swam in an ocean of tears

Surrounded by oasis of fantasies

Built into a wall to deceive

Will receive its oblivion

III

One day

None will remember the sun baked tree grower

Murdered by lack of warmth

One whose oxygen harvest saw not its nostrils

Talk less of its food channel

One day

Every little sand this feet tasted

Will clear from the tongues of its soles

Every blessed breath will be imprisoned in history

Keys to that prison thrown into the abyss of forgetfulness

Eventually flying into nonexistence

One day

These puzzled alphabets

Will play hide and seek

With new minds whose souls live on future’s passion trees

Shadows of these fingers who birthed them

Would have fallen into its doomed darkness

One day

Just one day

This given life will end with its strife

The best days will be but wrappers

On its boxed remains in fond minds

Sighs of relief will heave from begrudged hearts

Then I would reach the dock I seek

For now

Crawl on, ye tired soul

With all your heavy laden

Your veins belong not to you

But to skins and blood in covering

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 3, 2017

IN CELEBRATION OF EID

In celebration is the key

Of seeing you and I as we

And learning to in harmony be

Like a mighty flock of bees

In solemn prayers is the need

To all intimidatory sins, like bothering weeds, weed

Making sure all mouths feed

Giving respect to all living seeds

III

We are a living flock

With a mighty ticking clock

We can easily run amok

But we sure are grave stocks

Let Allah!

Let Allah lead us far

Leaving his fights so our plans won’t mar

His punishments and lessons to all living bars

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 1, 2017

CRY THE NATION

Many sicknesses walk

On the body of my motherland

Causing it to walk naked on the global market

Every pore battles an unhealing sore

Sore of greed concreting each founding ailment

Why doctors are like its grim reapers

I am still sitting under the sky of reasoning

Trying to catch a raindrop of understanding

Which obviously pours into my mind with misunderstanding

Each throat can admit a morsel at a time

Each body is like its shadow in daylight

Waiting to disappear with the night of death

So why do we fume corruption

Knowing its chaotic eruptions?

Why do we seek to destroy a bridge which carries our weight

On the mouth of the dungeons of death?

Why do we seek to strip our own into bonkerhood

On a stage where civility sides ability?

Why do we sew clothes of shame

Which calls for pests to have us tamed

Right after seeing us maimed?

III

Jump from your fences

You wearing shorts of indifference

Throw down your differences

You with busy mouths propaganding nonsensicals,

Deafening ears

Blinding eyes to the pain on the body of our nation

Wash your wicks of enlightenment

You heads with inks of knowledge

And lead like captains on battle grounds

Won’t you snap out of your power drunkenness

You possessed with fake thoughts of immortality

Emboldened by wealth

We are ants creating foots

Too heavy to carry

We are now Frankenstein monsters

Building our murderers with glee

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 28, 2017

HAND DEY GO, HAND DEY CUM

Me I no know wetin man go give me

Wey I go be like im sick chick moder

Going to scatter to bring him choo to fill im bɛllɛ

When im hands dey lie in perfecsion

If I no heaa anyting for elder person im mouth koraa

Ino be hand dey go, hand dey cum

I go feel like goat wey no like im life

If im beatings no dey charge my legs

To run like Ussein Bolt from im devil pitch

Ino bi same blood that cause Jesus to shout for helepu

Wey dey for my body?

My mama no bi mumu

Wey she no go feel her stomach tunder

If her eyes see man hand dey pound me like fufu

Chai! If I no know anytin for elder im teaching

No bi hand dey go, hand dey cum

III

My natural mortar no bi wood

Wey go scatter if im dry

Abeg, ino bi alumi

Wey go rusti, if I no shine

Wetin I want koraa, wey go make me your mumu

Com dey take your beating

Come dey take your shakara

Come dey take your shame

And come dey be your game for night?

Chai! Gyare, if I know see anytin koraa

I see say, as this my left hand dey go

The right hand dey cum

I go be like lonely bottle

I go shake like one tree wey dey for wind inside

If all I go get be so so beating

And so so cheating

So so insulting

And so so shaming

God no dey judge person wey dey walka by imself

Bone go turn dust no matter how much

Dog cry for im hardness

All tongues go taste sand im mouth

When die die catches person

And wheder pɔɔɔ pii or apii tɔɔ

Die die go catch all

So why i go cry for bad man?

Yes, as this hand dey go

That hand must cum

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 25, 2017

SORROW OF THE LAND

Once upon a time

Our land was a loamy rhyme

Our airs sang for happy trees to chime

A bite was meant to tease tongues from lime

But all that, now, means no dime

When the cloth of colonialism

Met the scissors of independence

And freedom apparels were carefully tailored by hope

Little did we know greed will nurse itself in multiplications to feed

Leaving huge holes in our growing seeds

Holes in which many hovering pests shelter

To hunt the rest of our freedom juices

In a shadow slavery bid

III

How did general development melt into selfish aggrandizement?

How did sweat of paupers rain into barrels of the rich?

How did power fly from the masters to the servants?

How did truth metamorphose into lies

In a vice-versahood which gains applause on entertaining stages?

How did we get here?

We as children of embittered souls

Who fought their rage to get us a page!

How did we get here?

How do we break this cycle

Of the oracle of greed?

How do we cast out the possessions of corruption in ourselves?

How do we get back the sensitivity of hurt

To feel our punches on our own selves?

How do we?

If only darkness will work with light on its ruling nights

If only responsibilities will whip consciences in all spheres

If only capable heads will work with their legs

To jump from indifferent fences

If only political promises will gain colour from their white elephantship

If only

If only you will see me as you

And I will see you as me

And we will see our land as our mother

If only

If only…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©August 23, 2017

WHEN WATERS RUN WILD

It is like the best servant of mankind
It is like the humble air holding our precious lives

It is like the great explorer and traveler

When it is given its due

Time has travelled to a place

Where many things imprison this saving servant

To think river channels lie in even mobile beings

Why will the earth’s water bodies face cages in their daily travels?

Even frogs vomit when their throats get soaked

So why won’t the cornered break free?

Why won’t the suffocating strike for breath?

III

Heaven knows it does no wrong

When its rebellion steals our dears

We have planted hell into a harvest

A harvest which takes from its mother sweat

From irresponsible dumping to unplanned buildings

From horrid policies to greedy land owners

Every building of dirt culminated into our loss

So why whine?

Let’s cry for the scape goat of our flaws

Let’s weep for our attitudes which walk like heels on negative talking tiles

Let’s mourn our loss by draining our drains

Removing chains from the bounded paths of the thirst quencher

For a death that all conscience grips

Deserves all hands on deck for a reversal

A wound not well catered for

Surely can’t hide from flies

Stagnant mud is sure to splash

Without a care as to the legs in its midst!

Kokorokoooooo!

A wake up call by the realization cock

Let the elders from indifferent slumbers wake!

Let the leaders, in corruption parties, shake!

Let citizens, all bad attitudes, rake!

To let nature cohabit with mankind

In a nest of respect

A nest, which will make our waters run our chores not our lives!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 19, 2017

HOPE INTACT

There is an irony in sight

Where vision is concerned

That part where the blind looks forward to tomorrow

Despite all the sorrow

That part of the mind which no one borrows

No matter how shallow

Is the lid of hope

So why will I mope?

Even snakes, dwelling on their venom

Instill fear in beings

Even crabs, without heads

Instill fear in elephants

Even mother hens, dwelling on beaks

Try to with hawks battle in protection of their young

Even a Christmas cock has hope in stock

So I feel no mockery

As suns shine even in their twelve hour life span

So will I shine instead of whine

III

A widow, according to biblical tales

Gave her soul in her little out

Without thinking forward

Why?

Breath is not mine to give nor take

But as long as it engines my being

I will see the ship of help

Sailing towards my dock

With goodies in flock

For in the tower of living

Hope holds firm

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 17, 2017

BRAINWASHING

Alien things are swallowing ours

Their gluttony making them relegate their teeth to the background

As their tongues fold to push

Through the mortar of their mouths

Everything with an African tag

Civilization first removed our eyeballs

And replaced them with artificial ones

Making seers the abominations they abhorred

Banishing themselves through shrines they worshipped

Playful hands now play with their “poduas”

III

When buttocks started their servings in skimpiness

And breasts were given mouth charms in braziers of harm

Aided by sunshine of sheabutter

As mouths stood out clothed into nakedness by different colours

We saw hairs from under dream seas in artificial chase

And soon, eyelashes begged for glue to have their fill

After fingernails won their clawhood in the court of fashion

Now we have lived to see

Humans behaving like snakes

Peeling their skins in broad daylight like knifes stripping yams white

When they are in no thought of roasting in the sun

As if that is not enough

Now morality has been called to an immoral court

Hailed by blinded owners

Whose loss weeps with stretched fingers

Calling on ancestors who went through so much to build them

We are lions turned cats

We are eagles turned fowls

We are skies turned ground

We have sold our birthright for sluggishness

Sluggishness which leads us to the cages of slavery

TERRORISM

Poisoned hearts

Holding rifles in monstrous hunt

Heavens watch without words

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 14, 2017

SHOW US YOU

The sounds of nature stamps your existence

Your bodiless presence calls for some insistence

Of evidence of your presence

Despite many testimonies of the taste of your essence

You are who you are

Though we know not when you were

But are dying to share

In your kingdom at any fare

III

We wish to with you dine

Even if we wear blindfold of wine

So we can be in line

Other than in this mood of pine

Many hearts, like bombs detonate

With thoughts of your good resonating

Many hearts are plucked like fruits at a child’s reach

Their blood presented as your present

Don’t whisper through the air

Stop rolling through seas

Stop shining through the sky

Stop supporting through the earth

Stop running through our veins

And touching through our hearts

Just show us you

And light our senses through your wisdom

To know you and your desires

THE HUMAN ANIMAL

I do not know

Who carved the show

I do not know

Who gave that blow

That a girl was an animal

Not a tigress nor a lioness

Not an elephant nor an eagle

Not a dove nor of love

But a sheep which needed its herdsman

Or a hen needed to hatch or be gifted on occasion

How did I fall like a load on my mother’s head?

Trained to fit into a shadow

Trained to voicelessly like a donkey follow

Trained to worship the shallow

Becoming a chameleon to complement my sire

Was the scary blessing which cuffed my passions

As long as it had a tail

It definitely covered its fail

Oh unfortunate me on that hurdled sail!

III

Fitting not into any shadow

I became the blow which non wanted to show

A blow which no ego wanted to note

A blow which all tails needed to kowtow

Defiance transformed me into a witch

A witch whose magic laid in her brighter head

A witch whose sword harmed chasing egos

A witch who only tails saw in their dark selves

And so the hunting started

A girl acting like a boy

A girl looking like a boy

An abomination in this nation

Oh how mama prayed for hands of God’s help

Oh how she forced my knees to taste the grounds of my “gods”

Oh how my peers in shadows laughed at my convention of submission

A sheep turned goat

Being forced to turn sheep

Agya mmaa abrɛ!

All the drama acted like a hammer

Hitting my pate as I acted the nail

Until flashes of the pain of history flashed

Through the blood of my pride

How my mothers grandmother’s great grandmothers stayed like mute clay

Carved to suit

Made to swallow all the hurt their makers cooked

And I tore out

Out of the clothes of suppression

Eyeballs popped and sunk

Mouths trapped many flies

Noses opened their doors to dust

As the fear flew from me to them

I was the freed

One society warned against

One cursed to never succeed

Never knowing other shells were being broken

To let many shadows taste the light

The light of their fate caged in this sphere

VII

You ask me how it feels to be here?

I feel like a tied kite freed by a godly fairy

I feel like a bɔɔla bird turned into a reasonable eagle

I feel like the weaver of life

One with powers I wish not to brag

A capable partner to my once upon a time herdsman

I feel many things in one

Most importantly

I feel FREEEEEEE!

Caring not about the debris that trails

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 11, 2017

LOVING NOW

I know many of us are everything but perfect
Sometimes assuming positions of trouble prefects

But life’s ink

Has risen for all who sink

And it makes me think

I see all live in gardens of flowers

Bathed in many praising showers

But like dead wood in a king’s court

They feel not

So why grace a thing with goodies

When its essence begged in vain?

III

Some live like goats

Never bending in their revenge coats

How do they metamorphose into dogs

Guarding decaying clay even through fogs?

Why wait till after the rains to place a bucket?

Close trees, they say scratch each other

Silly how human trees, in locomotive abuse

Explore further from their treasures

Suffocatingly searching for left pleasures

Until they go stale

Their perfumes poisonous even to inhale

Then cry rivers into seas

About their plight which they caused in flight

Backs box as necks turn with eyes of foxes

Until one falls from this life tree

Yearnings for a chest now at rest

Yearning to look into eyes forever shut

Yearnings of needful words stuck in lateness

Waters of regrets forever built like fountains

In their hearts

Why do we muddle clear waters

Only to seek the pure?

We are sheep with fake claws

Doves with fake eagle beaks

Why we get those even while our insides churn

Only our body electricians can tell

I would prefer the perfect vibes

While my nerves are at work

KƐTƐASESHƐ NE PRƆYƐ

The mind is a scary part

A part which houses and nurses all it is given

Be it in light of good

Or in doom of bad

No ripe orange on a flat ground

Falls far from its tree

And a rotten palm nut amidst the many

Carves vampire teeth on the others

Even after battling fires

To bite tongues in disgust

Hence our bitter taste on the tongue of life

Kojo Dzapkpasu’s little coins taken from the purses of parents

When eyes are lost in jurisdiction,

His parents awareness perceived as a little cotton in the wind

Storing laughter in silence

Is a seed being watered by days

Packing like a gift of bomb to detonate

Into the future

Splashing shame and horrors

Even quenching the flames of happiness and love

It is a seed that shoots a plant

A plant or a little branch that becomes a tree

III

So the government is like a desert without an owner

And I am a farm hand without a supervisor

With no eye in sight

Why will I work like a bull?

Ha! A goat claims to be destroying the paint of many houses

Until its skin pops bald out of its encounters

Ama Achaa has a whole hole flowing with waters of spring

I am a perfect fish thirsty for a swim

Ama needs me as a ladder to climb a hurdle

Without a swim, I won’t ever bend

Ha! Continue cheating the crab

Your rear is opened to the eyes of God no matter how thick your clothes!

I am a trained protector

One with skills of lions and lionesses

With the authority of the state

I am the order of the road

The hands for a catch

The eyes for the safety of my land

Walk into my way without the stench of a token

And I will see you broken

Power takes what it needs

Even many from less authoritative fields get their due

Why shouldn’t I?

Ha! The law is a whipping rope with two ends

Pray for no day your victim will hold the other end!

Amazing how big fishes sail through the net of the law

As small fishes, like mythically huge souls, get stuck in the same

Robbers kill few at once

But leading beings fondling public coffers

Kill millions in every turn

Yieee! Why do you aim for your intestines

And blame it on hunger?

VII

We are our own Satans

Building the worst hell in our living quarters!

We are our own roses

Tilting our thorns into our skins!

We are our own flies

Eating deep into our own sores!

We are the poisonous rain seeping through our perfect pores!

From mouths shut like doors of whores

Close to their pastors’ stores

To eyes whose visions are bought in wiping

From ears shut like a bankers safe

To skins which hide bruises to promote rot

We are all the tsunamis destroying our progress!

KAWOLA? UBEISON!

Everything atop seems supreme

Many pant to climb to mountain tops

And jubilate as winners in the end

Many eyes look up to the sky in reverence or solicitation

Even though legs mate the earth

So why do you sleep naked on this Ghanaian floor

Regarded as the pauper of the nation?

From Yaa Naa to Yagbon Wura

Bolga Naaba to Paga pio

Naayiri to all the sub chiefs

Wake ye wise heads!

To wake your young out of the sleep of under-development

Inculcating into their will the power of the north

Powers which will act as catalyst to open wide their eyes

To spot opportunities in hurdles gargantuan

For you are the path clearers

III

Oh warriors built in height and braveness!

Ye crafted with skills of the almighty!

Move from victimization of all kinds:

From witch camps to ingenious camps

From the Gbolu Defense Wall to building walls of togetherness

Remind yourselves of the pain of foreign reign

Through the Salaga Slave Market

And let that beautiful scar lead you to seek victory of more freedom

Freedom to love

Freedom to own

Freedom from war

Freedom from poverty

Freedom from attitudinal negativity

For you are blessed in nature

You are blessed with nature fit for a kingdom

Look at the miraculous Laribanga with it’s mystic stone

Built by mythical hands and spiritual hearts

To serve as a perfect ladder to God!

The Mole National Park which is like the historical Garden of Eden!

Housing creatures big and small

From Elephants to warthogs to ants!

Need I mention the ponds which house the fiery but tame crocodiles

Who lead and protect you?

See the beauty of nature from the Wichau Hippo Sanctuary

And feel the landlordship of owning the Wa Airstrip

Oh the Tamale International Airport!

Ah! The Nandom and Navrongo Basilicas made like the cross of Jesus

Should I add the Tongo Hill?

I could go on and on and on

You are beings blessed with crafty hands

See the Bolga Baskets

To beautiful leather sandals to the angelic craft and sounds of xylophones

Which pacify God and all ears

See the product from the blessed fingers of Sirigu Potters!

VII

Follow in the footsteps of former president John Mahama and Dr. Mahamoud Bawumia!

Tow the line of Dr. Isahaku Nashiru!

Inculcate into your hearts the pure heart of Dr. David Abdulai

Get the ambition of Alhassan Gbazanba

Get some wings of success like Alhassan Andani

Sing your way into hearts like Fancy Gadam and Sherifa Gunu

Work with your brain into a breakthrough like Siita the Investor

Giving you the magical box in the form of North Television

And join your wires of success to light up your realm

So you can move from unfortunate exemplary tags

Liberating your women into angels of success like Hikmat Baba Dua

For you are built to excel and have the capacity to do so!

GOD (CRAZY STANZAS)

In the wake of this take

Make me windbreaks that will all hurdles absorb

Be like the unbreakable bubble surrounding me

Even as rains of drains seek all grains of sanes

Ahonu-abobirim!

As a mind which descended from the stairs of a sage

I lay my body before thy feet

Burn the evils in all the rooms of my pores

Boil the hatred in all the pain of my sores

Fry the bitterness in all the dents of my failures

Roast the memories of all the plans of my revenge

Infusing forgiveness where stubbornness dwells

For you are the mighty thumb

Without whom no knot can be untied

III

Ɔkatakyie!

I am like a new born in thy hands

I am like a hatched bird in your nest

Needing your all seeing eyes

Even in this whirlwind of confusion

When the way that leads to you

Is like an unsolvable puzzle

Kasapreko!

Make my skin a tortoise shell

When the arrows of mythical chasers speed for me

Make my chest a magical crest

When unseen bullets fly my way

Wipe my footsteps in this battling sand

So I can lose the snakes which follow my legs’ rakes

Omintimirim!

I have eyes without future light

Brace me for all that awaits

Make for me armours if a battlefield awaits

Make for me a conscience if a rosy field awaits

Most importantly, suck the fury out of my hurry

Planting patience in the soil of my heart

Otwereduampong!

Fallibilities tie my abilities

Need rumbles in the stomach for my feed

Covetousness pulls in the perfection of my seed

As time tick tocks in reminding my fade

And death of all promises other births

In the midst of it all

I wait on my call to you

To mould me through a school perfect for rest

After this earthly explorations

Which cover the memory of transiency

(All unknown words beginning succeeding stanzas are appellations of God in the Ghanaian Akan language)

YOUR OWN BI YOUR OWN

Birds know they own their nests

And love the inn eventhough they know the existence of hunters

Bats love their standing trees in the midsts of tree cutters

Worms mate the earth in style

Even in places pickaxes dig

Why won’t our elders say

None uses his left hand to point at his father’s house?

Your own bi your own

Even fecal animals love their grounds

Your painting models your house

Your posture determines your win on a battlefield

By your mouth’s words, things can see the be

Even in rare miraculous realms

None uses his left hand to point at his father’s house

Your own bi your own

Even fecal animals love their grounds

III

Legs fit their perfect shoes

Bigger ones will show

Smaller ones won’t fit

Heads with wisdom need few words

To cook a perfect meaning

None uses his left hand to point at his father’s house

Your own bi your own

Even fecal animals love their grounds

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 3, 2017

LOOMING DOOM

This chest feels so stuffy
Threatening tears which would drown these eyes puffy

Giving an uncomfortable holiday to the mind

Making this bed frown at the night load

Which fails to heed to the call of mobility

Cloud of our end looms

As a frightening beginning, in fast speed, zooms

Whips of pain of loss is in the blooms

As your back’s dust zooms

Even your thoughts, like models, parade in all rooms

What is this shattering heart to do?

III

Like a shattered mirror

A piece sees the beauty of our tearing bond

Other pieces cry in hold of the threads of hope

Which play hide and seek with shaking fingers

A little piece knows this “we” was never a good “be”

Yet this hellish heart burns itself with sadness

Who made a heart a bluetooth

Which connects souls and creates holes

When breakages occur?

Who is the architect of a being that

Merges hearts into one in two bodies

Leaving them bruised into halves when separation visits?

I am a torn love leaf being roasted on fires of deception

Oh which balm heals from within?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 1, 2017

STRAY HANDS

I know the throat can nag

And force a king to lie on a rag

When its demands for water through its pipe is not met

I know the stomach can thunder

When its bond with food is put asunder

Giving in to any bet

III

I know eyes close not

When their vessels are tied in a weakened knot

As the body, like a drug addict, frets

I know every pore feels its sweat

And every soul in a body is a set

That is why hands take all they can get

But this is not it

We are children of warriors who oneness fitted

And through the axe of togetherness slit

The throat of oppression

To give us this free mansion of supremacy

We are a set known in the Ubuntu

So why do some hands stray

To dupe themselves of the crown of development

Befitting our precious heads?

BE LIKE THE SKY

The sky has many eyes
Because of its strength

Its face is like a park without an owner

But it still remains firm
II

There are passing clouds

Which never succeed in wiping its beautiful blue

There are heated suns

Which never get to melt its clarity

There are the moons backed by stars

Which never get to blind its base

And there are thunders

Which never get to break its frame
III

There are days the sun battles the moon

On its face

But it stands on duty unscathed

Although darkness forces it into its cage each evening

It stays perfectly at post like a faithful soldier in the morning

Be like the sky

	amoafowaa on IN MY GENDERFULNESS
	anisioluiz2008 on IN MY GENDERFULNESS
	amoafowaa on FORGET ME NOT
	amoafowaa on NO BRA DAY
	dancingpalmtrees on FORGET ME NOT