We work our already worked
Stocking mocks at our docks
…as Wuhan wails their inflamed woes
…into a world wide panic
So sad!

As we put expensive make ups
…on ambulances
And put them on runways to dazzle the gullible
…through their modeling
Corona drives at top speed
…to us?
To us!

“You buy but I parcel
…to make it my buy
To charm you into my angelics
Thanks to my reach on the highest stool
Am I not cool to know you fools
…and to make you tools
To think me bull of hardwork?”

Your thoughts have bounced deception
…on many walls to you
Save for your followers high on blind loyalty
…even infant minds know the tricks you’re using as bricks
…to build mountains out of our emptied molehill
So stop the trickery and put on gears of work
To help quench the flames
…which travel to us with commands of burns
…which can sweep our many skilled
…and leave spaces never to be filled

Poor odour leaching incense to imply cleanliness striking
Embarrassing embers on our ray-like stages!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © January 31, 2020


Whiskers on rabbits
…feeding fat
From juices of ants
…who are tasting bats
So fair!

Crumbs of peace
…drowning in pieces
As tiring muscles
…push protruding tummies
…on ceremonial trucks
So fair!

Like Oliver Twist
…now it is a demanding twist
…blood is the more
…they need to store their failing chores
It has to be blood of the suffering?
Oh so fair!

Why work wails to be weaned
…but luxury climbs in the winning
Why poverty seizes to be healed
…but high comfort kro-chia for attention
And oh why souls struggle to host bodies
…as bosses polish their crowns with national sweat
Tickle to hurt
…burn to scar
Oh they shoot to kill
…and bomb to blast
Our hope to cope
But who cares?
Certainly fairness is modeling
…the clothes of its antonyms
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 29, 2019


See the wealthy
…oblivious of their wealth
Wearing skins of poverty
…and acting poor
Dumbs beg crumbs to gift their thumbs
…ignoring the harms

Oh guinea fowls acting domestic chickens
…left roaming during the day
…and caged at night
Forget not dark holds many an ink
…to plan your harm
Stop being dumbs begging crumbs to sell your thumbs

I laugh in disgust
…seeing lions turn cats
…tigers turn dogs
…elephants turn mice
…eagles turn owls
All serving those who need to them serve
Why are you acting dumbs
…begging crumbs to stamp your thumbs
…for your imprisoning fence?

In this case
…where prayers prey on the prayed for
…and sluggishness sells solutions in strong deceptions
…killing hard work in minds of many
As several creeping animals invade our anthills
We are in a well called hell
…where even the yelling
…of common sense will get no hearing
No wonder we’ve turned dumbs
…scrambling for crumbs
…to freely dish out our thumbs
…as mandate of our caging

As our seers have been painted blind
And our gods have been dressed Satanic
We are like lost ants
So our eyes have been pointed
…to our self ugliness
Our ears have been tuned to
…others’ greatness
Words have been written on our tongues
…detailing the need for us to be led
…as we can’t possibly know our own lands
…talk less of leading by ourselves
So we live like chickens
…acting dumbs and awaiting crumbs
…even if those crumbs need the severance
…of our thumbs
A new awakening is clearing the dark clouds, excitingly
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 25, 2019


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


There is a change seeping into the land
Strange change that promises to derange
…even from a range,
…it sips from the cup of hope
…and trips our peace on a dangerous slope


It started like a bad dream, now it burns like overheated fire…
Take us off the fires of fear
…simmering on soaring senses:
– kidnappers killing the unwilling
– terrorists blowing trespassing tremors of horror
…hooligans housing hampering-tampers
It is like a daunting shadow
…drawing nearer and nearer

We lived in a peaceful pen
But you sold our safety to sellers
…trading point-and-kills
Will the hunters shoot only in the forest
When power is like a potent alcohol
…creating drunkards out of gents?
You knew the hidden catastrophe
Yet thought only of your growing bellies!

You know of the bribery beasts
…who guard our customs gates
Yet sit like flatulating elders
…in the midst of their aggrieved youngsters
…blame-shifting in the suffering and suffocating air

As concerned ears hop from
…outdated mouths to mandated mouths
You continue finger pointing
…when deck calls hands to work!
Continue creating confusions
…sitting and staring
…dressing and daring
In a Kojo-Who-Did-This taunts!
…It-Is-Kwame will turn solutions through the bouncing It-Is-Kojo
…to protect our future!

Fanning fears will turn fires
…burning off our nearing enemies
Just let the radios chirp like blessed birds
…the papers paint like well pressed pets
…the internet hawk like beautiful ladies carrying shinny pans in selling
…hosting you with your flawless grammar
…like parrots in their comfort cages
Let’s hope your words turn hammers to
…scare off the scares
…which loom!

You kwabrɛfrɛs –
…mistaken for Odums
…and pushed to stand to shield us
…from the whirlwinds of slavery
Should act vultures
…standing on the trees of our trust
Waiting for our lives to fall
…so you can swoop for our rotten fleshes!!!
But know –
…It is one body hosting us all
…from those on the head
…to those on the feet
Think of the spared
…should that one body fall!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 18, 2019


We have lived
Lived through the dawn of our rise,
To the morning of our victory
And got stuck
Between the morning of our victory
And the growth of our rise

Blessed with suns unrivalled
I wonder how we’ve still not gotten there
There, where the suns of growth shine fair
Blessed with moons whipping darkness
I wonder why we aim not to dine
Dine at the tables of greatness and wine
That the eve of development serves
Why haven’t we?

We are getting wrinkled and still teething
Why are we nibɔing?
We are getting old but still toddling
Why are we numsaing?
We are getting fondled but still sleeping
Why are we junsɔbɔing?
Do we so love the dew of dawn
And not the fair rains of the night?

Ngaaa, ngaaa, ngaaa
And our mouths still suckle from the blood and tears
Of the pains of our yesteryears

Childhood has its season
Once we overstay our welcome,
As we have,
We turn weeds
Weeds all vegetarians,
Including herbivores like goats and sheep and rabbits
Turn to eat at will
Even dogs mostly bite through us for strength
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 3, 2019


As cages of ages in the past which now turn to imprison minds
Become old for a sold
Future children are being killed in present wombs
Through manipulation of present minds
To keep our knees on the piercing gravels of the ground
To maintain the posture of our heads
So we look down with our hands stretched
For crumbs
And bottoms open for humiliatory fucks at their will

When will this blindfold fall?
When will we heed our ancestors call?
When will we play the wisdom ball
To clear us from the field of penury?
Will we ever ditch the boos of illiterates of nations great?
Will we ever stop dancing like Korean candies on world stages?
Will we ever stop digging out our own foundations
As we sit in the middle of buildings
Buildings watered by the blood of our forefathers?

Help us
Help us please!
Help us from yonder world
To stop this suicidal murder of our nations
This is a plea oh ye ancestors!
A plea to mine our minds as others mine our gold
So you can refine to be gifted as tickets for our hope
For we are sinking low
Low, into hands of even little hunting yellow dogs
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 25, 2019

WATERLESS SEA (Crazy Stanzas)

I need a very tall ladder
To climb into minds holding the reigns of our national horses
I need a very good lift
To the core wiring of these great minds sift!

Which fishes, drink the waters of their own sea
Sell them for cheap to greedy drought
Kill the clouds of their sky to weed out rain
And are still happy in breeding in there?

The now is their got, they think
The future is their naught
Their younger ones should sink
They think not of the sun yearning to dry them
Care not about the pans yearning to fry them
They see no mud hoping to cake them
They forget their enemies above
And their enemies beneath
Enemies beside and enemies in swoop
All they care about is the now
Even as their sweats burn the sands of their dock
Creating fertile grounds for ships of fish nets
To be better grounded
Am I in this horrid sea?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 23, 2018


Some whirlwinds come for admiration
Some do come to blind
I have watched you take your world by storm
Conquering odds to stand tall through ridiculous gait
With hooting superseding ovations
Disgust overpowering cheers
All the while asking
Is all this for Trump?

I bet you didn’t think of the battle on your way up
I bet you didn’t plan your tactics through all the firing
I bet you thought light of your armour
No wonder you’re boxing difficulties even with peace
I guess the spider has outgrown its web, making me ask
Is all this for Trump?

Now you have turned into an “akate”
All farms you touch die in the birth of their blooms
Now you have turned god of drought
All rivers you touch dry
As fast as sand gulps water
Now you have turned virus
All minds you touch need anti-viruses which in turn suggest formatting
Which sometimes fails to work
Calling for abandonment
Which soul can take so much love from its hatred cooked hatred
And stand tall in so much ridicule?
Are you a walking corpse or a dead goat star?
Need I ask
Is that all for you?

You are brave in being that gutter flooding your family
You are a star for being that darkness consuming your loved ones
You need claps of honour
For all the strength negativity has built
For your chosen red road
No wonder appellations of discomfort toe your line
I wish I knew your pillow to ask if your body is a widower
A widower torn from its soul
From the beauty of insults to the hurts of countable love
I ask
Is this all for Trump?

Oh nature may have been kind to make you this handsome
With mmefe hair and unique skin
Hidden eyes and voiceful noise
Impulsive thoughts and unrestrained guts
Be sure not to befriend lunacy on your way out
Be careful not to chat suicide on your way down
Just think not of hugging amends in a hurting fall
Stand tall and be sure to win at all times
At least to compensate for the model you uprooted from magazine covers
Into your shadow
You beautiful nemesis of a once great land!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Oct. 7, 2018


When the crowers of today turn peckers at dawn

Feasting on feeds of hens and chicks

While time walks without turning back

Their future in saucepans of history will be painful

As the only spices on their bodies would be pepper of frustration

Ginger of hurts

Salt of under development

Tears of penury

And cubes of curses

Let earful cocks clean their ears

As they stand on pedestals of high repute

In their youthful dawn

And heed to the call of change

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 22, 2017.


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?


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


There is a reason hands hung

Legs stand

Eyes see

Ears hear

And mouths talk

But in my home 

Mouths walk in talk

And swing in fling

Closing ears like clashing bombs

Forcing eyes to shut in disgust


Little things turn typhoons

Then tsunamis

Covering bigger fishes to sail beneath national seas

As small ones turn dishes on influential wishes

Multiplying the earthquake of development

Still hands hung

Eyes watch or close

Legs are rooted like static robots

As mouths stand in boxing rings

In competitions of no winners


As baby teeth dream of the future fights

And matured teeth drum their mouths

Into greying heads

What is change to do but sigh?

As generations of mouths

Graduate from talks with no walks

Where lies the future of a debating history?

Where lies the pots of progress

When hands remain clean as mouths knead fantasizing moulds?

I am but a little mouth 

Flowing from my fingers’ ink

An ink flying spittle may erase

In this mouth cage

Still, what is this realm to do?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2017


The sky sees many monarchs
Those whose sadness floods the earth
Giving life to most and taking some
Those whose happiness burns the earth
Warming most, drying fractions and killing some
Those whose air barber trees
Burning weeds
And aiding and abetting fires
The sky really sees many monarchs

Amazing how all weathers have their favourites
Honouring some
Demoting some
And killing some
Life’s changes favour all
But under the right weather
Being carted by time
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 22, 2017


There are walls around a nation
A nation fought for with priceless blood
A nation whose beauty, like mud fish in muddy water,
Hides in walls too high in ugliness
Walls of corruption
Walls of deception
Walls of greed
Walls of power-drunkenness
Walls of ridiculous stunts
Walls of begging
Walls of tribalism
Walls of labeling
Culminating in walls of poverty pictures
Plastered from social media to foreign watch boxes
Yet many live in eyeless villages
With no ears
Not that they care
Living peacefully in walls of ignorance
Through a greater wall of illiteracy
Their pair of glasses too busy in high class comfortable cinemas

It is funny how birds cry for this nation
It is funny how the sky frowns through the sun
In the mirror of their eyes
It is funny how hills and rivers wait patiently for a climb
To show them the passions their sweats have bought
It is even funnier how the fields grow
Under the matchetes of hands uncountable
Few flowers weep for their land
While the weeds murder ones with loud cries
Four annual steps
Mostly turning into eight in laying more bricks on
Has been a painful fate
Who will break his feet by breaking these walls?
Who will break her fake nails
In breaking these walls?
I fear for the curses of tears from ghosts with closed eyes
Ghosts who lost their souls in the nation’s purchase
Time travels
And so does this nation
My nation
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 21, 2016


We remember the claws of yesterday
After feeling the smooching of palms today
A new dawn easily sheds its night
And falls into nothingness
If it records no history
And acts like a boring copycat
Yes, believe it or not
History has teeth which bite through memories

Whichever crown graces your head
On the ticket of teeth with graceful smiles
Know the mind can easily alterate mouth
To hide smiles under cloths of bitterness
So remember to tread cautiously
Holding dear hands which pushed your rear
Regarding bards who now sing your fair
And blessing fools who clean your smear
Forgetting not hands which fan your heat
Happiness needs no bureaucratic ticket
To a miserable future

We are who we are
Flowing minds into muddy legs
Into thrown rocks
Into immovable mountains
With corners and caves hiding fears untold
You disregard your ladder through comfortability
At your own peril
Especially in these times when royalty is a shadow in ceremonial cloths
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 17th Dec. 2016.



After angst and jubilation have gone to roost

In an opposing clash which selections boost

What is there but a sea with no boat

Calling all eyes; with hurt and gloat

To look past emotions and rise to a challenge


All in laughter show their teeth

All in outcries show their teeth

What is the difference between these?

Countenance for happiness and that of defeat

It is one land with many varying a seat


Some will stand

Some will on their buttocks comfort land

Some will walk

Some will stalk

Wouldn’t the importance be on space?


Work like a bull

Reason like an ant

All great buttocks can sit to cool

Devoid of hatred, being no procrastinator

Reason to work, work to gain

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 11, 2016

(Photo credit: Google pics)


The beginning of love
Is like the beginning of creation
I am sure God’s heart raced
As he created it all
His joy sat in a celebratory palanquin
Developed wings and danced like an all powerful ruler
Hailed by satisfaction as a look upon jubilant
When all was done

My ears can imagine his symphony in orchestration
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

I am sure he thought he found a friend
So pampered Adam like a baby
Cuddled,  held hands
Laughed and felt his smile even without him
Such fire of purity can only make one hear

Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

The thoughtfulness of curbing loneliness
Must have forced God to make another
A more powerful breed
Who unfortunately was a channel of deceit
Breaking the heart of God
Like a shattered fresh egg
I can hear the sorrow in his groan

Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

That might have forced the curses
That might have caused the pain
That might have deepened the animosity
And man turned into the labourer
Could man be Africa, God be God and Eve be the intruders?
Wait, let me guess this sad tune
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

Our flutters are over
Our loving friction so over
If animosity now reigns
As God in anger flees
What is our prayer to fix the broken?
Can we see hands held high to reach out?
Can we see hearts cry out to reach out?
Can we see minds working bodies to mend?
Sorrowful tunes cased for a once happy tune sucks
It goes like the steps of a game of death
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 1, 2016


It is only in the house of politics
We find blinding smoke without fire
Its finances, like confusing qualitative thesis, lacks mathematics
Its words flying with no hands to tame to collate

Tongues of tongues are begged in hire
Hands with corrupt cash magnets
Get to be called sires
Brains with guttered tricks
Get to lead the need
While best bids sit catching flies

The few who venture turn spoilt food of ridicule
On the political market
Is it universal or Continental?
Is it our curse or our nature?
What is a tired climbing woman to do
When her children sell her out
Like cheap tomatoes on enemy markets?

Who can fingers of blame point to?
Great eyes which see and force mouths to mute?
Capable hands who fold in fear of hurts
Pushing weak and troubled hands to the fore?
Or ears who hear but act deaf?
This woman is in troubled waters
This poor Ghana!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 17th October, 2016

GAME OF BETRAYAL (Crazy Stanzas)

Laughter boils on fires of pity
When mice speed in armyhood
In support of the enstoolment of cats
Forgetting they are their edibles

Don’t thoughts, like farmers
Dig their reasoning farms
To grow fear on trees of their scatterings?

When planted promises
Knock on my ears
I wail in happiness
Don’t these mice know cats have “unsteppable” places?
Places which turn them fallen, chewables or corpses?
But like infants who swell at the
Hearing of pleasant lies
They ride harder

It is frustrating watching the best dragged
By their tails
When the fore suits them best
What at all is the name of the draft
Where the eaten empowers the eater?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Ghana is a country blessed. I say this not because it is beautiful, has many mineral and agricultural assets or living conditions are better, but because we have the crown of peace.
Of late, I foresee chaos as many decisions we are making today are like terrorists of our peace in the near future. Why do I say this?
1. Because we now mark everything with different political logos. From regional affiliations to radio stations. There are regions so passionate about some political parties,  so much so, they can kill an opposition member who dares to challenge. Some stations are known to be for some political parties and allow defamation of all in opposition without fear or favour. (Need I need to cite an example, Kpokpogbligbli should do)
2. Some ethnic groups are static in their support where politics is concerned. They see no evil where evil reign and trust blindly forgetting the country is an asset that needs to be kept safe in all spheres. To these people, their blind love for some political party supersedes the country in itself. Sad, so sad.
3. Foot soldiers abound for all major political parties. They will kick anyone and anything for the right prices and promises. This brings fear and so the strongest in foot-soldering win many fearful votes.
4. Many are poor and politicians in Ghana know this, capitalising on the low level of education to buy their votes for as little as 50 cedis. Because they do not know that the right policies can fetch them more than necessary. There are even rumours gifts are forced and receivers of such gifts are forced to swear oaths to potent gods to honour their bit in voting.
5. Politics of insults is undermining the laws that bind and if the law is affected, where lies those the law protects?
6. The elites who know better sell their minds for contracts citing they cannot allow their youngsters to make policies for them. Very funny. That brings us to the next point.
7. Politics knows no qualifications so the efforts one puts in, determines his profits. Why can’t we set standards? Doctors go through years of training in order to be gainfully employed, teachers go through training to teach, why can’t we outline qualifications in political hierarchy for fairness?
8. I believe Ghanaians believe in everything with the right emotions attached, funny thing though is that they easily forget follies no matter how grievous a problem. The problem is that,  those who believe in everything can easily be incited to war and those who easily forget are easily taken for granted.
War is the most painful thing that can happen to any country. We are one people with different opinions. Democracy is there to guide us to select the best, forget the worst, and retain fairness in the reigns to show potential politicians the right paths. Democracy is not there to aid and abet criminality, fan our passions or support blindly. Democracy is the eyes of power, the mind of choice, the mouth of healthy arguments, the legs of right destinations,  all leading to safety and satisfaction. If Ghanaians continue in this fashion,  we will destroy our golden peace as those we protect fly like eagles to seek refuge. Let us ask ourselves; how many family members you can airlift when the need arises? I will end by using the inspiration of our National Anthem to say:
God bless our homeland Ghana
And make our nation great and strong
Bringing sanity where madness has bitten
Pushing indifference into actions
And forcing the resignation of unscrupulous men
To aid us in the protection of the continuous peace we seek.
May it be so.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


If the winds destroy the umbrella
And the elephant finishes all the grassy trees
And the cock pecks all the worms and crumbs
And the eagle eats the cock
Do remember
Still the naked land stands

The naked land will stand
Like a queen caught by prostitution law
Of an unforgiving god
As stones from rejected lovers
Leave Indelible scars
On her once fresh and fertile frame

The naked land will still stand
Like a waterless well
Which once quenched the thirst
Of all throats
Watching helplessly like a prisoner
As thirst drags its beings
Into holes of hell

The naked land will still stand
Like a farm turned dessert sand
Hating itself for killing its own
When it turns into the hands of the winds
To slap its children
Through noses to lungs

The naked land will still stand
Like a clown
In the middle of a lively town
Wearing the shameless gown
Of naught
Dancing to the ridicules of draftsmen
Whose happy palms get greased
Thanks to their apt predictions
And history ascribtions

The naked land will still stand
Sold cheaply off to some maniacs
To  use as a rubbish damp
With fetuses so famished
Fishing through dirt to see daylight

It behoves the grasses
Of today
To protest in protection
By putting minds in correction
In positive reaction
Uprooting inaction
To soar the land’s production
To let nature do transactions
Of changing generations
Minds open to thinking
Know the land will still stand
Damned and disgraced
Or Great and glorious
Your acts today
Making the choice of tomorrow
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


A nation’s dictation
Is a need in deception
Well, man’s creative sensation
Failure of creation
Is filth covered in adoration
Separation is no emancipation
But a concoction of suffocation
The only salvation
Is truth which hovers like the sky
But eternally covered by dark clouds
Which blind to mislead
How sickening!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Chaos boils like hot water
In the highest place of the land
Can it melt its saucepan
To help create another in good shape?
I think not
Given the fact that
Here is here
And choas boils to cool
Never to ever rise in heat
Ah! Kwa kwa kwa kwa, beaky chirps

This fire which fans this heat
Under the coalpot of foul play
With the charcoal of corruption
And the match of disappointment
Being fanned by the fan of opposition
Will it die too soon?
Will it burn to ashes together with its heat?
Or be killed by its heating water?
I am curious
Like a passing wind
I know this is an issue in travel
By a fast plane
A Ford
A taxi
Or a trotro
Whatever the means
Eyes of mine watch
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Do I need the stool
Of the queen of England?
The seat of Liberia’s power buttocks?
The stance of South Korea’s head?
The heart of Yaa Asantewaa?
To have gazing eyes mellow to look?
Flaunting egos listen to bow?
Strong shoulders stand down from arrogant ladders?
Peppery mouths calmed by salt?
Tight trousers loosening to free?
And cruel hearts softening to accommodate?
Do I?
Do I?

We climb ladders
As spiders do their webs
Carry titles
As kings do their crowns
But refuse to let go holds of slavery
Holds of abuse
Holds of superiority
And cling like reins of mad horses
Neglecting great voices
Making queer choices

Open your eyes
In all
As patriots
As citizens
And as individuals
Or perish in fair-malnourishments
Indifferent buttocks
Deserve piercings by fence wires
And a pushover
The hard ground, their cruel teacher
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


All that they dish
Are traps filled with many a little fish
Acting like baboons accomplished
While living like gluttons, so childish
Wanting to be those hearts cherish
While breaking through coffers to garnish
Themselves to have others famish
Aren’t they greed-stricken foolish?
I pray criminal seas you banish!
To lose all you relish
So you can those fake looks relinquish
For you are the dishes
Development wishes
To grow into accomplishment
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


We have crossed
Crossed the rubicon
And can never get a head
To dream of change
Change which can alter positively

We have, like gluttons, dined
Dined with the undinables
Food whose stench can never be removed
Let alone hidden from its seekers
Who have the light to chase
We who have no light
Nor sight in mock flee

Like bees smelling their stolen honey
They chase in battalions
While we run like tired tortoises
With no shell to shield
Taking their beatings
While looking for brains to conjure their grains
Grains needed in seeds
Seeds needing the soil of loam
Loam needing water,  sunshine and air
Empty handed and headed
We live in our running misery
Stepping into same steps

I dislike my own
I dislike me
The unreasoning
Which seems liked a canker
The quick cash yearned and not worked for
The troubles caused with no solutions
We have crossed
Yes, crossed the rubicon
Sadly headed to hell
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


This fourth arm
Is limp to arms
Its mouth turned into licking
Licking dirty boots of unscrupulousness
Leading in pleading the misleading
For unnoticeable rolling coins
Fleeing from pockets of thiefs
After being cut from the blood of the disadvantaged

The fourth arm
Meant to serve as eyes in the dark
Snores in connivance
And guards robbers
Against those they need to protect
Covering their shame in fame
Insisting on good for God and country
Pricks not their consciences
Stooging like dogs
Dancing like clowns
To throw dust in the eyes of all
And forcing piety into devilisism
Massaging egos of evil
And promoting ills to fly amidst chaos

This fourth arm
Is now like deadly tails
Guarding the national cake
Clearing bonafied hands like flies
While serving demons into gluttony
How much ancestral blood is crying in unknown grounds?
Crying for their unlived lives
Those lives too precious
But thoughts of patriotism claimed?
Ama Ghana sure needs seas to host her tears
The fourth hand is a lizard’s murderer’s ally
Watching the trails for proper stoning
Too sad
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


You saintly quacking parrot

Sit on your legs

On the biggest tree of the land

And look at all like a slug on a couch

Watching a tragedy on a giant screen

And quack like tongues of a quack pastor

Who even knows not what he says

Remember there is a sea which feeds your tree

So when the foul air calls for a tsunami

All things will suffer and so will your tree


You see the dirty linens wash their owners

With soaps of deceit and darkness of clearance

You know the canoes being ridden by seas

Upon the instruction of abled hands

You know the bullets

Gunning all

Hues of

Anointed owners,

Never the


So sit on your legs and quack like a duck


Won’t we all feel the heat of the sea?

Won’t we all feel the anger of the waves?

Won’t we all see the spears of the tsunamis?

Quack and quack and quack and quack

But know your saliva will crave the waters

Even before the seas swallow us whole

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Image by Google pics


Huge sharp blinding stones

Fall on what once was gold coast

Shielded by mandate


Swords in umbrellas

They cover, hit to quiver

Fail to deliver


Animals run wild

But will forget when swords hide

Faking protection


A little water

Few gifts so swift calms all rifts

Then mandate again

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Photo Credit:



We have lived to finally see
What youthful limbs have fixed as bill
And presented to cheering hands as fee
Sums which aim for nothing but to kill

Now the lions’ masks have finally fallen
Showing clearly their frame of donkeys
As the sheeps’ paint erase appalling
To show lions and hyenas’ breed with whips for monkeys

No sweet bile lives in a chicken
But real chicken’s bile is oh so small
In the belly of our dear fancied chicken
We see the bile overtake the liver in our mouths which are oh so small

Our suns are killed
Our pockets, beheaded
The mouths so skilled
Are to Regret Town headed

Foods are fetched into stomachs of the satisfied
Terror hands are being pulled
Into realms of peace unquantified
Minds now know they are being fooled?

Trusted thumbs are itching
They are bruised and in curse
They cry out for even quack doctors’ stitching
So they can dive to fix red moons in sky’s purse
Will that ever be reachable?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


I know a turkey from Turkey
Who thinks Thanksgiving and Christmas are red and dark
Their final destinations are so murky
That they find no way to their presence mark

The turkey complained about usurpers in Turkey
And how they colonised them in charm
And threw their beauties in the murky
To spice their grinders of perpetual harm

“Turkeys in Turkey
Are planning soupies murky
For all non-flyers who wish them harm”
Says Turkish turkey
Now let all Turks relax
The turkey from Turkey is all corrupt
And their murky soups are doses of enlightenment
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Ye gods of the land
Open your hidden eyes
And take these feathers
Almost stripped of its skin
To distill your ears
To hear the prayers I pour
Through the ‘nsafufuo’ my meek calabash has to give
And help the land respond ‘ewie!’
To all the points of prayer

Let the evil fishes in all seas
Drown like helpless cats
To rid their realm off the pain of misfortunes
So the mirrors of good
Can be clear to show reflections of untainted hands

Let the vampire birds in all skies
Suffocate by higher airs
To rid the big mirrors
Of the fog that blinds
So eyes can see clearly
Faces of the workable
Confiscate their wings
To strengthen the weak but capable

Let the heat in the skin of the earth
Cook the pests which hide within
So your names will be as pure
As the morning dew
So your parades can be few
And on pleasurable cue
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


I know mouths of my land are like machine guns
Digging bullets of the past
Putting them in golden throat guns
Soiling voices meant for firing monsters
And firing through
Gunning for hardworkers
And yelling into international microphones
Their unfortunate past
Seeking sucking sympathies
While real works stare our faces
Like infants needing their parents’ embrace
Why lions are now dogs
And eagles are now flies
As owls turn hidden frogs
Abena, I know not
Mother Ghana has been made a whore
A whore by the very people she accomodates
And gives life
Legs moulded in such great effort
Now bow in front of the supposedly rich
Looking for crumbs of their bread
When we hoard the flours in purity
Fie on you
Fie on me
Fie on the fragments that fail to merge
Fie on greed
Fie on seeds
Fie on us seeds who fail the creed
Bow thy heads in red
Covering in black
And mourn your dead zeals for the top
Don’t be
You have all the power to wake the dead
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Maame Yaa!
Wake up please
Maame Yaa ei!!!
Wake up
Wake o!
Wake and look at the professors of supposed servings
Look at them seeking to butcher themselves
Just because they, like servants, want to make the poor royals
Just open an eye
And look at how humans are madr goats ob paper
Substituting heads on other bodies
Do they hate their bodies that much?
Why are guns the norm for the power to serve?
Aren’t you hoarding lions hiding in clothes of dogs
Deceiving your children they are what they can never be?
Aren’t you sleeping too soundly
As words capable of burning clothes of the sky
Hug bodies you need to live?
Aren’t you giving water to the devil
While burning your angels in fear of its tantrums?
I know serving is for servants
It takes pain to serve
I know those who serve dream to be served
So why so much fuss over serving
Maame Yaa
Could this seeving be clothed in royalty?
Oh are there gold and diamonds at the feet of the poor
Who are being promised all the heavens?
Maame Yaa
Your territory has turned into a comic stage
As skilled unfunny comedians parade
Shouting on top of their voices to be heard
Battling while expecting mouths of the sad to laugh
As though they have told tales to kill the roots of anger
And cut the cord of suffering
When the opposite sit on their behaviours
This is humorous
Humorous to those outside your circle
I can’t stand the cackle from outside the circle
So wake to rake the fake
And stop the stake of the take
Of your territory
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Picture by Kent, the world on its hind legs
Picture by Kent, the world on its hind legs

If legs had eyes

Coupled with mouths

With internal brains

On their stem structure like heads

They won’t act kings

Always being carried

There are many a places

They would have boycotted

And many a thorns

Would have tongues

Which would have never tasted their skins

Oh many aches

Out of long strides

Would have been alien

To their veins and bones

Too bad they are dragged around

By orders from above

Like brainless soldiers

Controlled by remote

They can rebel but for fear of hunger

Poor, poor legs

Always made servants

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



We can’t surely say

That the tons of blood on Alata land

Were by knives of the known devil


We can’t surely say

That the new shoot of hope on Alata land

Is  free of all knowledge of the slaying knives


Alata is at the crossroad

With eyes watching from all angels

To see if the flower of hope is not a hidden lion


A flower like hope

A flower like a lion

A flower with happy fears for laughter or tears


Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015




Stealing, sharing, chopping


Frights, fights, flights


Blaming, catching, crying


Praying, playing, freeing

Like a tale

All those bails

God does see

It will never go without a punishing fee

So flee and defend the caught

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



There is a never dying plantain plant

Which is rooted in the centre

Of a coast initially golden

When it is cut down, other shoots emerge

When it is uprooted, new shoots succeed

Funny, how a plantain drains

And never ceases to create holes of mouthings

Holes of horrid deceits

Holes of disappointments

Holes of pauperhood

Wogesadjement plantains!

Know your time to feed is now

And not the future of feeding soil

So coil from being omnivorous centipedes

Who feed on their own bodies!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


When the cats are mewing
And the dogs are backing
And many birds are chirping
And many snakes are hissing
Trying to get the lion’s attention,
Trust me, all it hears are meats
Yes, meats calling to be chewed

Instead of planning a trapping
And getting a catching
So they can get ears to do the listening,
They converge to shout into hunger
Some into sicknesses
Some into trouble
And others into death

It irks if foxes and hyenas lead
Because in the stampede
They get many smaller meats
Who decide to dance to their beats
Knowing not the hidden deceit;
Same as the one causing the lion’s deceit
Ahhh! Grandlings of plannings of sweet tannings!

You really are cunningly cunning!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



I have thoughts to say;

Lion as chief of the forest

Concatenates to

Loss of smaller animals

In the forest of Hanah


I’ve more thoughts to say;

Leopards and hyenas know it

But are afraid to

Stir the nest of fearful bees

Others think their stomachs precious


I still have more thoughts

Coterminously, many

Are in cahoots with

The lion for some crumby share

And you’ll think it so unfair


I dare you to step

In their shoes and know your fate

You will dance to tunes

Like fetish in possession

Now, tongues wag like mine, pretense?


We’ll all sit and wait

While the lion eats fat, too bad

We won’t live to see

The extinction of our peers

And the chewing of grass by lions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015



The road prostitutes

Letting all vehicles through

Why doesn’t she have a voice?

Poor roads,

Even in rain, you accommodate all

In heat, you are accommodative of all

No rest for you?

Like a helpless beauty, you lie

As your beautiful flower is being flawed

By layers and layers of ungrateful tires

The washing bays mess you up

As others litter your gutters

Gutters you inhale from all the time

The sellers sit at your edges

As hawkers make you their walking ground

Animal droppings decorate you

While blood sometimes garnish your dirt

Drivers curse into your eardrums

As some spit on your face

Do you curse your maker?

Don’t you feel even a little sad?

Am I the only one seeing your suffering?

Somehow it saddens me

How you are exactly like Africa

The beautiful Africa with known children

Like Ghana, Nigeria, Angola, Togo,

South Africa, and many good others

Whose heads are ridden through like

Vehicles ride through you

But you are eternally hopeless

I pray the spark of hope in Africa

Shines to light her being

Being like you is an endless suicide

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Madiba made us

See signs of peace walking on

Strong legs in Africa


An ex-convict who

Made his good heart a public

Display to shine a healthy ray to break ills


Who thinks of the good

Coming from a stinking cell?

One would say revenge but his legacy is worthy to sell


Let all ears in Africa hear!

Let all minds in the world know

That greed is a grazer of healthy peaceful grasses


Madiba lived! Mandela reigned

Not for long, but forever on minds

Minds of today, tomorrow and forever

Let’s take a cue and better our lot

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014










Their thumb powers are unknown to them

Like our forefathers exchanged gold for salt

They exchange their powers for cheap coins, cloths

Bicycles, motorbikes, cars and promises

Which never come to pass

When will they see their thumbs are worth more than little fees?

Grave sufferings, avoidable sufferings reign their world

Yet they never turn into eye openers

To uproot their problems

Psychological colonization

Misplaced priorities

Repitition of dynamic but same mistakes

Are blinding our sorry selves

Have mercy! Whoever hears!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014












I stand on a branch of sincerity

And watch as they march

To the office of parties:

Over ambitiousness








Each in his or her own filth

But when they emerge

I see them draped in beautiful

Party colours

Looking so beautiful and tempting

So hidden none gets to see their true nature

They then become the fascination of the world


How can the nation flourish

When the brightness of atrocities

Blind the good?

I’m still watching

Only that I’m watching from the ground

Because the branch of sincerity

Was severed by an unknown hunter

A good thing this mouth still works

Please stop putting beautiful clothes

On these heinous atrocities

Eyes will not see now

But will definitely see in the end

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


I stand and watch

As the show goes on

Beautiful drums drum.

When the drums drum themselves,

The dancers sit.

When they stop drumming,

The dancers dance their hearts out.

The audience are appalled

The dancers are seething with anger at the audiences’ ingratitude

No one seems to know what is going on

I see the anger of the drummers whose jobs have been taken over

They are pulling the strings, deafening the dancers

And angering the audience

I shout my concern but no one hears

I knock and see the commotion is taking place in a tainted out glass

I see them, they don’t see me

Poor, poor us.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



In the land that was shaky is stillness

Which floats in the cold, this stillness



It was trust

It was trust which caused this stillness

Trust for respect on corruption

In this town


There was merriment

There was merriment when he won,

No wonder, disappointment sits in stillness

And weighs


It is drying

The leaves on respect are drying

Drying to an era of revival or breakage

They swear breakage


When our stomach churns like an angry mill,

And our throats cake and crack like ice

Our brains remember, here and here

A little water and food, and we forget


We need a store,

A store for aches and pains

A store to influence our choices

In the future

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014











I can tell you pride has been sold

For power in my home 

For the first man status, a sheep clothe was worn.

To be the keeper of all,

A known affluence was paraded


But a lion could never stay in a sheep clothe forever

It tore free immediately it landed on the stool

As has always been the case

Only to put a tangled net on his past audience

A net which is never loosened until another era rears its head

Then a much more sheepy clothe will be acquired


If only you know what we are going through

You’ll pity my home which feels like just a house

If only the god of power was fair

These lions will be struck dead in their  sheep clothes

To free my land.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



She’s draped in a fertile bosom

With trees which blossom

She has very strong horns

Horns like electrifying thorns

She has a thick black womb

So obviously has a strong comb

She looks green from afar

But is withering on a par

Withering elements being sewn

By those who will her remains mourn

There is no appliqué:

That will be one saviour appliqué

So she lies like a helpless bulldog

Being dug, cut and licked like a dog

Her beautiful features are giving way

Giving way for horrific skin which cannot sway

She is the punching bag of all desperadoes

As her bodyguards always play the rondos

So the greater part of her womb beings are dazzled,

Dazzled by the music in play only to wake like a horse saddled

Some watch, others yap like monsters or fools

While others are busy being shaped into tools

Ha! Who is not tired watching?

Everyone but those staying

A piece of trash

Deserves no rush to crash

 Let me close this mouth

Maybe as it is being bombed into nothing I can head south.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014

  (Picture from


I hear the hushes of the bushes

And the marshes of the brushes


I hear the soreness of darkness

And fleeing plans of the fireflies


I hear the lifting mats of the bats

And weaving spectacles of some tentacles


Even the headless carries a headdress

A great storm is about to storm the land


Its mouth to come with openness and fierceness

None will be spared, I have been told


Why? The gatekeeper has failed to be a keeper

And has been bribed by the storm


Lord of the heaven, lord of the storm

Cries his banishment of the keeper


And has forsaken the eatables of the storm

For enticing the keeper with expensive possessions


Making him a coveter so much so he opened

Up to a bribe that’ll consume him, my dear, pack up or perish.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.