Sown Seeds In Foreign Lands

Pride is the value of a man's life so little 
Like the gas fumes that burns on petrol 
To have seen a thousand men hang on strings 
For theirs as pride was robbed of them so easy 


Men with souls search for their identity 
What meaning to be defined by in life 
Be it as religion or as family 
But as family most, most as family 


Today I witnessed a man lose his pride 
So simply robbed in daylight painful 
With such rush audacity of misplaced loyalty 
And I feared what edging action would bequest of him 


Lonesome in the middle of the night dark 
When most thoughts taunts and louds with echo 
The laughter of silence quite and penetrating 
What most was lost, stolen in the brightest of day 


We left our seeds in foreign lands with promise 
Where dreams became nightmare of the living 
And pages of gospel scrolls with scriptures 
Lost a thousand words to thin air 

When Angels Walk The Earth

Angels do not come in the light of day 
They do not visit the brightest of spots 


Not with wings white feathers that glow 
Not with blue eyes and golden silk 


On the streets with hoods, ghettos 
In the freight of corners and worry 


In the cold hang where the homeless sleep 
Angels do not come in the light of day 


Clinically sanitised in church rooms 
And decorated windows, altars with candles 


Angels do not come with wings 
All majestic and on the holiest of days  


Where plants weather and lose their green 
A beggars single shoe ever so cherished 


Angels do not come on special occasions 
They were named K9 and have always been here 

This love, this soul, this empty shell

Love for get me not 

If I kick this bucket old 

My mortal hearts fade  

In the mix of entanglement

Standing at the cross roads 
With arrows, pointing on all directions


I was born and laid an egg from the womb 

Push me close away too far away, push me away 


Love me hate me on passion rage union
Love me for I was rightfully right, wrong, right

Choke me on allowed breath 

Allow me inversion of my private space

Brave panic with confidence wobble 

Embrace let go and hold loose tight


Entangled ropes straight sanity of discourse 
We hold to pull opposing knots tied  

Oh how did we get near this far 

Find me where salt water and fresh do mix 


And I would have roses to give to love 
Who came from the south going to the south 


As we love and quarrel and burn bridges 
To entangle and be torn, only to miss with heart's lonesomeness  

Marvin the Squirrel King of Nuttella

Marvin the squirrel lived on a plantation of nuts on a farmer's land on the west coast, near a  human village, not far from the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. The land was rich in gold and oil, but much more so in nuts. So much so that the village was called Nutella. 

The village had a share of nuts and nuts so bountiful it pleased and fed all to excess. The village farmers mixed the nuts with chocolate and exported it to the human village nearby. They gained a lot in return and could buy all that they needed. 

When Marvin first came to the farmer's land he was very malnourished, skinny and small, and wore tattered clothes. With so little to eat he was starving and so was named Marvin. Dear starving Marvin.

The farmer saw Marvin the skinny squirrel thin to his bones, from a distance and rushed to his rescue. “I am going to save you”, the farmer said “ and you will be my blessing Marvin and others will benefit from such blessing, you will be my legacy Marvin" 

The farmer quickly took Marvin the squirrel into his hut; he fed him and clothed him, keeping him warm at night from the cold. Once Marvin gained his energy, strength and health, the farmer adopted Marvin the squirrel as his own, he made him a member of his family and called him the son he never had. 

The farmer made Marvin the Councillor of the village. The whole village voted. Some were  not particularly pleased that Marvin the squirrel an outsider should hold such a prominent title. But in the end the farmer's wishes were granted by the villagers and Marvin was made the chief Councillor of the village.

To satisfy and settle minds, the privilege bestowed on Marvin was set with a time limit and his responsibility was to guide prosperity and care for the villagers, as the farmer cared for him, when he first came to Nutella the land of riches with plenty of nuts and nuts, to feed the population.

After a while the farmer passed away and Marvin found he had all the power to govern until the next scheduled election. However Marvin became ruthless as he ruled  and he asserted his authority to crush any opposition. Soon voting day neared and he became so determined to hang on to power that he devised a cunning plan.

As the time neared for the election, suddenly the price for nuts shot up and know one quite knew why. The demand for nuts had not increased and the harvest was just as plentiful, yet there seemed to be a shortage of nuts. Strangely, around the same time little hills, started appearing on the outskirts of the land. The hills were fiercely protected, guarded by the elite guarding squirrels, hand picked by Marvin himself.

Within a  short time, the villagers became very hungry except for a few. The rest starving like Marvin was when he first came to the village, thin, boney wearing tattered clothes, begging for rescue. 

A little village squirrel called Johnny happened to be playing on the fields where the hills had appeared. He had sneaked out onto the hills without being seen by the guarding squirrels. As he jumped up and down from hill to hill, he suddenly fell through one of the hills and there it was; all of the nuts from harvest seasons, carefully packed in heaps of sacks. They all had little stamps of ownership on them, neatly scribbled was Marvin the squirrel's name. 

Johnny the little squirrel was so incensed he run to tell everyone. He thought to himself everyone should know about this but just as he came out of the nut hill, he bumped into the guarding squirrels.

The guarding squirrels went wild and laid into Johnny beating him soundly. Then kept him imprisoned to prevent him from blowing the whistle to the whole village, telling them where all the nuts were being kept while they went starving and hungry. 

All the time that Johnny the little squirrel was being kept against his will he wondered why the guarding squirrels were happy to help Marvin the squirrel hide the nuts, while the villagers starved. 

The guarding squirrels were from the same village Nuttella, they had family members starving in the village, they had friends starving in the village, yet would only give the nuts to those who gave their support to Marvin. Johnny the little squirrel wondered what would become of the village if Marvin held on to power at the elections. He wondered what it would mean to those that  voted against him. 

In foreign lands the farmer's little village Nuttella was still being praised; some said, it was of great richness but others who have heard recent stories from Nuttella were of a different opinion, they spoke of a decaying and run down Nutella, with little prospects and high corruption since Marvin took over. 

Johnny the little squirrel suddenly felt a need to use the bathroom as he sat caged behind bars. That was when he opened his eyes and realized it was all a dream. He had fallen asleep after reading the oracle's letter. Marvin was still the heard councilor of the village, there was plenty of nuts in the village and the election was quite a distance away.


In the kitchen, as Johnny the little squirrel made his way back to his bed room, he noticed a jar of Nutella,  Johnny stuck his head deep in the jar, to  completely wake from his nightmarish dream, thinking the oracle must be so wrong, surely that could not happen... To Be Continued ............

I lost my President

To the souls of men that stands distance 
At the edge of  rivers before crossing  


Costumes of one's role and characters played 
Is soon without that much sway to hold, empty shells 


Indeed silence becomes of us all in time due 
So do not cry, it is more than what we can will 


When at the river's crossing our names are called 
To count, on account, like when Shepherds call sheep   


A sobering feeling us witness,  for one thy name mentioned 
Steps foot on the river's walk, vanishing behind the fog 


Cast as list of names on inscribed scroll for mortal ends 
To have been blessed with life, our names do appear 


Waiting patiently, closer to the river's edge on age count 
Yet as close, it is only when thy name is in mention 


That one with tickets crosses this rivers of spent life 
No one knows where it ends, to know true faith


The curtains of fogs hides view from inquisitive eyes 
So I do not know from a distance where my President went 


His name came up "Prof. John Atta Mills" on mortal scroll  
A' he crossed the river and vanished in the distance behind t' fog 

Ten steps away

In the dark with contemplation ripe  Visions foreseen on dreams mill, crawl if you must  Close on count down with graduation robes  Resolution and assertion made to stand  Anticipation and heard drum beats of hearts Sounds so loud to disturb silence bequest  Sacrifices are always said necessary  Concentration calls for streamline  Learning to block out thoughts dark  Is saving energy needed for the journey long  On the roads less journeyed we side w' R. Frost  Calling this tactical in securing a strong hold  Never to be forgotten for such zeal we assert  Passion's glow hold is entwined with the heart  I would lay a bed to comfort with milestone my seed   Secured with nurture to be awaken bearing fruits   Going with steps on the roads less journeyed  Like a walk round the house to open this front door  Hope is hoped for not grey old, before blossom  I am in robes, ten steps for the roads less journeyed 

The Emptiness of Midas

The emptiness of Midas's wealth; 
In a field full of ones so desired 


Midas oh midas my dear midas 
Lived in the valley of the fields beyond gods 


Where tress and wild bush did grow
Where wild flowers popped up in summer 


And nature gave fragrance so splendid 
Of glory to the scent of smell 


A patch of land was set upon by Midas 
Sharing with neighbors in the valley 


Soon that strectch of land seemed so small 
And he wanted more on harvest of carrots 

Midas woke up early one day when all was asleep   
He set about sabotaging all that was around 


Midas gained a land bigger than before, it worked 
As his harvest grew so did his power and hanger 


Midas became the biggest land lord in the valley 
And every year he increased his ownership hold 


After all the riches gained Midas was finally 
Content though just to a point, with an emptiness inside 


For completion and fulfillment he needed acknowledgement 
Respect and honor, friendship, care and to be loved 


Midas craved a companion to hug and to hold 
To tell of all his adventures, and glory 


But as friends he turned all to carrots of cold gold 
And never did any stay or survive his ambitions 

He could never call those that stayed around friends 
For they never saw him as so and he knew it too


Midas felt poor, and paranoid for all the wealth he had 
It dawned on him then that the richness of man 


Is more with value of the company of love one kept 
As he stood in a park with a million carrots and empty joy 


He kept having to pay more each time to keep  
Those that stayed around, and more each time he paid 


Knowing and seeing as he looked in their empty eyes 
The same cold reaction he got from his carrots of cold gold 

The Numbers Game

                                                                                            Figure Eight, 1952, by Franz Kline
She will dance and be caught in motion instructed 
Franz's skeleton strokes painted to illustrate 


I will find a language so sophisticated  
And have letters made of painting like Chinese 


And numbers would be representative of figures 
What size are you to be my dear as object subject 


Models on cat walk with controversy 
But surely eight would stand as fair for decency  


Adelaide Damoah with brash strokes paints indifference 
Vivid in portraying w' image commentary what society ignores 


As strokes of each step taken on walk ways stand 
To measure elegance in fashion push for count down 


And eight becomes six, four, zero, skeleton letters 
Like faceless figures of Chinese writing on cat walk

http://damoaharts.com/gallery/supermodels/?pic=4

Life's value in meaning

Life is with value  

When meaning held is gained 

On effort one makes 

The case on global warming heard

Global warming ubx (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

First; court rise, case number "blue planet"
To be heard, for or against, friends all be seated  


Wake the rainbow it just went to bed
Lazy cow w' glitter, was it not meant to be as round


Shake the rivers they just dozed off 
Another lazy bunch halts, holding back waves


Oh and what of the breezy stifling air
Caught entangled with stink, so out of character


Never mind t' fire with artificial flames, the sun
Skiving off and keeping us cold then to scorch 


Not the rain again, setting records wet
To flood and flood and drench and drought  


The soil is dry yet another scandal to hold
Sat in a web strange waiting on the elements


While they argue amongst themselves regardless of audience 
On if  when or who it is to be blamed for global warming


O my coffee just went cold, thanks for the distraction 
All rise, I am going to warm it up in the microwave 

Lovers Inn

In a red brick building down town 
Through the saloon doors that swings like old western 


The floors that squeak with each step yell 
The aged worn faded luster of furniture to post 


The half darkened window to keep in 
What as without privilege, outsiders to know 


A high chair empty awaits my rest 
A man stands with towel, a repeat clean of  glass jugs 


Words mean little if looks says all that needs be said 
Words here are to be nodded, winked and acknowledged   


A clean glass freshly worked on by the towel's strain 
A sound of gentle knock on the nossel before pour 


A slide on the table, motion knows just when to stop 
Adjustment of composure to symbolize appreciation 


This here is to quench my thirst with lovers wine 
This is the lovers inn, a quite share in lovers heart  


Behind, the western saloon doors do open with shrill   
A step on squeaking floor familiar, she approaches; hey love 

Dream-catcher; A legacy being written

Thoughts assemble brick on brick, like brick work lego 
Each to his own to ponder nothing new to wander
But the shadows of the ship shapes images that nears 
On shoreline, white flags waved; lighthouse we keep 

Blank pages gather the courage to manifest 
Hidden gems reviled,  from shy once the lighting rays 
Black becomes elegant on white background 
Blemish is just an unfinished painting on canvas 

False starts are just steps on steps, each step staircases 
This far, this long climb this ladder this height to reach 
The sounds works out fine, gym sessions, background anthems 
Like the strides in marching on ceremonies, uniformed 

And in a distance the sun sets to lay cream on the land 
Shadows of the moon, it is said  are still across the sky 
Trees invite for rest stops pillows on roots and fallen leaves 
To comfort heads the sky would provide the blanket to keep warm 

In a distance the shape nears into physicality 
The faint skeletons of  dreams gathers weight 
Into bodily forms, quicken the process 
Its cruise control now, as it all feels so effortless 

And now with chapters in book pages written 
The close line, is this close to affirm, dream catcher 
The fire will burn as promised until I finish my story 
Grandpa told me, son yours is a legacy being written 

Words and Meaning : Spoken word #vlog

The Alcatraz Men

Alcatraz stood form on t' pond  w' mental lock down 
Like no other building was so near to inspire  
A garden of Eden sat bang in metro-poly 
With modern pollution yet undisturbed 


Basking in its own ways, oblivious to civilization  
Back in the day, to say yesterday never went away  
With keys dangling holding locks on hell's metal 
Gates, burning on touch to keep absent  invaders 


Alcatraz stood firm like forgotten people 
Microcosm of evolution as dinosaurs in Jurassic parks 
Until Indiana turns the lights on, for vampires 
Like cockroaches to rush off and hide from know   


Fearing the sun will blind, an ice age relic  
So behind in decades like inbreeds they stood 
Inside the box with thoughts; the edges would be a taboo 
Never mind a venture outside, just as unheard of 


They stood like Alcatraz to stand form firm 
On the pond; truly they were backwards in tradition 
They talked funny; not meaning to be funny w' thought 
They just talked funny with acts that followed Alcatraz men 

Ring fencing my heart

You are the half  that completes me 
And for hearts you are as I am, as one 


Together we are to be as one 
You are the half that completes me 


You are the half  that without I am without  
And for my heart, warm is the seat I keep for you 


The soft tender to soothing my heart's burn 
You are mine, mine indeed my gaviscon 


The silent day, louds your name 
You are in thoughts and in soul searching find 


The better of me, the goodness of me 
The quintessential essence, you are my love 

Absent at present; with yesterday's dreams

Let me know you, shadows in the window 
Stranger thus you stand and wonder 


Pondering with thoughts, held prison to
To what price owed so heavy on contemplation 


I see you this close to touch with yesterdays dreams
In close distance I feel your presence yet far a' near-far  


The captivation of  an audience,
You do, so effortlessly with your elegance 

Yet empty cold and brash of substance 
After winning the hearts of all that stare 


Would wings set one so free to chase yesterday 
To escape with gaze through the window we stare  


Announce to me my dear, I employ you 
My attention you hold to court, announce to me


What sits so strong, so wrong, to hold hostage  
On thy mind, to be absent at present 


Stranger thus you have become, ghostly 
Invisible to a crowded room, absent at present 

Hello, hello; excuse me, excuse me
Hello, excuse me, hello, hello; absent at present 

Early birds

Early birds at sunlight 

Are first to find earth that warms  

Sing my morning wake  

The clouds are a pain

Wonderful wakeful tears thundering lights 
Blessed t' stars, I just gained one a' lost same on sight


The clouds are a nuisance such a nuisance 
They are, when the sun comes out 


I shall find a prod to quicken their steps 
And have the land gain its share of grace 


But wakeful tears and thundering lights 
Just as sometimes with the clouds in tow 


All that is crucial to soften the harshness 
Of the dry, from the sun so strong to burn 


Is just these clouds; such a nuisance they are 
Always around to bring t' rain, wakeful tears down 

The Tree's Story

Wonder minds, wonder worlds; oh how did I get this far to rest 

This stand, this pine rich circumference of thy tree trunk 

Of circular wider and longer in years gone, and add on

To have seen before scriptures-inscribed 

He has seen it all, through the good and bad weather

If the tree trunk could say a word; announce the stage 

This story is simple, this story made, this story goes 

Thus like a walk, foot steps back at a time, a time facing 

Back and step and step and back and walk backwards into time past 

Summer stands on the shoulders of spring but before spring 

Winter held down this cold, like a frozen mummy left in time 

Without breath, on the back ground solid of numb 

Like snows white laid, deserted bare 

The loudest is the winds that echo in silent halls 

And a feather from an old dove dangling is highly suspicious 

This was after autumn, like the Ottoman Empire 

It came on to invade and hold leaves brown and fall 

Crushed when walked on, like empty souls, shells 

Yet without so much evil a washed as said of autumn 

And winter's harshness known; these circles of rings 

That hold grounds and expand to give  majesty 

To say the tree trunk is wise, would not have stood today 

And the tree's majesty would not be, without the process 

Without; and trees this big providing shade to worship would not be


Would not be 
That is the story of the tree that stands in the park 
In St. Andrews the tree's story of time 

Platform Stands

Quest for questions and answers besotted
Reasons given to establish gesture's order 

What reason stands for platforms at the manor 
To be raised as a stage so high; oh olympia

A foot higher than level ground's normal
A projected avenue of angling eye

Granted; an effort is to be made
In stepping up to be highlighted as main 

To be seen above the crowds on podium
Granted; an effort is to be made in olympia 


An opportunity is given by t' drag n' pull of  fortune 
But to make hay; granted an effort is to be made