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Sunday, 6 March 2016

Independence Ghana


Why should we honour a ceremony
Why should we stand on ceremonial grounds

Be seen in our best costume attire
With marching shoes and laces too

Flags and confetti waved up high
Lines and lines of row we adorn

Drums, dance and songs we sing
Poetry recital and libations we pour

A priest on board,
Some high dignitaries too

On this day we celebrate
On this day we were made citizens of

For our forefathers that came and went
On this day their blood we honour

On this day we take stock
On this day we self reflect

On this day, this far we have come
On this day, is this how far we have come

Though true to the word
So little we have done in our generation

Some even protest, a' ask for shame a' wonder
On how we could celebrate this our indifference

But it is besotted on us, we own
It is a legacy we are required to pass on

So on this day the Big Six stood
On 6th March to announce, we announce

We celebrate our independence
Invited guest from far and near

Would all be with us to self reflect
What it is we have added on

What it is as a legacy so great
Would we be passing on, on this day







Monday, 22 February 2016

Road Kill


Our roads are a slaughter house, butchery
And all farm animals are to be spared

Lined in rows on speeding wheels
Cuts and bruises are the norm

Death trap metal mangled up
Going fast past the speed limit

Breaks replaced with blowing of horns
A crush is preferred to a stop to save lives

Selfish greedy personalities queue
Each morning on the roads in waiting

Before the day ends rest assured
The morgue will be full to the brim

Pot holes, dotted on the roads
Traffic lights incoherent acting gaga

Road lights absent where needed the most
Road signs lost in time with meanings expired

Oh and at night and at night
High light drive in crowded areas as usual

Blinding all, all is blinded driving blind
Blinded men behind the wheels

Our roads are a slaughter house, butchery
Like an abattoir, ready for the slaughter

Last I heard there was a threat of mass burial
The morgue is full and there is no where left

Just enough meat for the Friday night
Wake keeping party, who is hungry

I heard someone say it was God's calling
Their time to go to heaven, they have been called

Oh but the farm animals are to be spared
Just the humans, dogs and cats for road kill

Our roads are a slaughter house, butchery
This week close to a hundred came in as meat

Just that a slaughter house, butchery slaughter
Lined up in rows and rows for the road kill


Sunday, 21 February 2016

The JB Danquah Murder


A politician lost his life
We are in dangerous times

Count down on voters parade
Clans and gangs with their colours out

On your door leave a mark
To be identified by, being colour coded

If you are lucky you will be spared
That is, if you are lucky, that is

All the same, turn off all the lights
Put the dog in his cage, ssshhh! on the barking

The cat has its own sense of independence
That is unless it has been pampered spoilt rotten

And wears a scuff keeping up with vogue
Then it will be snobbish to the rat meat

And will not last a minute
Out in the wilderness

Sorry, a politician lost his life
Where was I, where was I

Oh yeah, a politician lost his life
Sorrowful this is, to comprehend

He left behind a young family
But he was well to do, so they will be fine to do

Now to the two opposing sides, clans, gangs
Pointing fingers of blame, like fuel on flame

Looking for political points to score
Like a board game with bets on play

Along the line an accused got arrested
He sure looks guilty, motives are just not so clear

Coincidence it may be, it can be, but
It is t' sensitive time that holds worrying thoughts

It is an election year, its an election year
Nothing can be taken for granted now

Count down on voters parade
T' clans and gangs are out with their colours

Something to do with winner takes all
It is that serious on stakes

Nothing is to be left for chance
Not when there is this much to loose

Lets just hope the election observers
Are seriously up to the job, being all fair

A politician just lost his life
We are in dangerous times

Rhetoric, rhetoric, suspicions
And propaganda fuels the paranoia

Tuesday, 16 February 2016

To Pimp A Butterfly



Compton is in Africa, true story
If you don't know, now you know

The greatest man that ever lived
Never blew his own horn

Somebody tell Kanye
Kanye we have a new hero

And he is down for the fight
On the greatest stage he let it rip

Somebody tell Kanye
Shades included "we gon be alright"

We have Kendrick Lamar
So we gon be alright

We gon be alright
We gon be alright

Chains on, broken chains off
Mental prison incarcerated minds

To pimp a butterfly
To pimp a butterfly

Fearfully shameful of our heritage
Badges worn as passports to belong

Denial infront of the limelight
Acceptance away from the limelight

Kendrick made us know
That campton is in Africa

For black is Africa
And the struggle did not start

From the middle passage
But from the main land Africa

To kill a mocking bird
To pimp a butterfly

Relevance relative to notions
This is the essence of poetry

And true rap has to be poetry
To have value  and be valued

Let the listener feel awaken
Knowing we gon be alright

We gon be alright 
We gon be alright 
We gon be alright


Saturday, 6 February 2016

Losing a bet


I lost the battle of wits
I lost the relevance it holds

Indeed I came last on the count
Indeed I did not place at all

I lost the right to be named
I lost a seat on the table

I lost a bet tossed with a coin
I even lost the coin that was used

I walked blindly naked in a crowd
I was crowd shamed on a stage

I lost my bravado to a bet
I took a chance and I lost

I wished the fortune teller
Had told me earlier

That one does not play
A betting poker card game

Chips on the table mounted up
With tarot cards

No matter how good one is
No matter how good the odds are

I lost the battle of wits
I lost the relevance it holds

But my pineapple hair looks nice
A least so I am told


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