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Monday, 30 April 2012

My kidney stone's jar


The concept of time, pace, space and me 
Sometimes, my heart beats fast 
Then it slows, then it slows to rhythm 


My mind thinks and projects 
Then it ponders and holds 
With reasons, not to be so bold 


My eyes sees, past the horizon 
Pastures green on my lawn 
Then it becomes blocked in visions view 


I read a book and unlock my thoughts 
Then my thoughts, becomes a locked door 
Contemplation and procrastination ripe on arrival 


As though I am old and still young 
Sat in the womb, naked with no umbilical cord 
Imprisoned castles with glass roofs and walls that surround 


Surrealism of dreams and abstract thoughts 
I am stood out; lord over looking the projected fear 
I just placed in a jar, like a kidney stone 

Sunday, 29 April 2012

Keta by the sea


Sandy soil, where home is with breeze   
The sun, has its day to come out after dawn
Every day to come out, on the beach bed   

The sea and the lagoon, has a lot to answer for 
Playing trading games, of give and take  
And give and take, and give and take  

At sun down, the beauty of Keta is to be admired  
At sun down, the choirs of the waves sing, a' the sand dance
They sing to please, a tradition to uphold 

Where I am sat, here surrounded by my family treasure 
The winds and breeze, sand and huts to acompany
The lighthouse a' lights of distance mine, in such of liquid gold 

Sweet songs from the children, they sing like the waves
The drum beats, of soul food, that has gone silent for while
They echo from my childhood memory, like ghost call

To say Keta, Keta of old reign, come reign again
To say Keta by the sea, where home is with breeze 
To say I know you will wake again, "head of the sand" 

Your sons a' daughters jump up everyday with excitment
On your beach sand bed in the morning and play to entice
To reach your spirit wake, oh Keta with breeze, awake to please

Saturday, 28 April 2012

Curtains Call



There is an atmosphere 
I can not explain 


There is..... like the period before the rain 
 With dark clouds and thunder 


There is an edge and an anxiety feel  
Before the jump and vertigo pull 


There is though,  the thought, the silent thought 
That gains ground and lauds the ears 


There is the inclination, a twitch, a wonder  
The sixth sense of awareness 


There is the feeling of nostalgia 
A slight spread of melancholy calling 


There is... even before the heavily built lady
Sings her heart out, to drop and signs off  

There is something, an atmosphere 
Behind the curtains calling 

There is, there is, there you see it?
Before the final curtain call 

Picture by: Bethany J. Major 

Friday, 27 April 2012

Friday and Jazz



And all that jazz, and all that jazz 
I like me a Friday feel, I like me a Friday feel 
Therapeutic in ways to let go, of all that jazz 


A drama or two, a character or so 
A statement of sorts, and sorts in sorts 
An angle, an angle used and all that jazz 


I like me a Friday feel 
To put down, unmask, mask worn 
Of roles played, and all that jazz 


And the  forced interactions, dealings with 
Jezebels of men and women, wolfs in sheep skin 
Pretentious in characters, acts, and all that jazz  


Come, come now, hold on now and all that jazz 
Allow me this time to recuperate 
I like me a Friday feel, to let go, of all that jazz 


Thursday, 26 April 2012

Magic of life


Surround your mind with patience 
Allow visions time to capture 
And share these pictures of beauty 

The world is a beautiful place 
When speed is slowed to the pace of happiness 
And rushed emotion is called to calm 

Do not use oversight as extenuation 
Lose sight of what we came for 
And misplace the wonder magic of life 

I shall make butterfly wings 
The most beautiful thing I have ever seen 
And admire the alluring colour it holds 

To show that beauty is simple 
To say beauty is with joy 
That beauty is what the eyes opens up to 

Fallen Angels



Will prudence be told of the outcome of ventures 
Did we not first seek his assurance 
And had him be labelled as a man of honor 


How immense and intense, with intent 
The infection of greed on these hills 
We call our home, our motherland 


That tsunami of dishonor 
Could reach the highest mountain peak 
And infect with ease the last good man 


To wake and be surrounded  morally 
By a society turned into 
Episodes of the Shaun of the dead 


Why have so many church stands 
And sit on the front rows of sermon 
Pay your tithes and sing hymns 


Only to go out and drink the blood 
Gorge the blood of your neighbor 
And be blind by the poor that surround 


Will prudence be told of the outcome of ventures 
Did we not first seek his assurance 
And had him be labelled as a man of honor 

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Guest blog: Entrepreneurship in the central region of Ghana

By Kase Knochenhauer 
This study attempts to describe the strengths and weaknesses of attributes commonly exhibited by the young entrepreneurs in the central region of Ghana. Results are compared to previous studies from Poland, the United States, and Nicaragua. Eight groups of Ghanaian students self-evaluated the young people of Ghana across the attributes of creativity, energy, self-direction and risk taking. The results may indicate behaviors and thought patterns in Ghana that make successful entrepreneurship difficult. Results for the study were discovered through a class discussion at University of Cape Coast during a student discussion who evaluated their peers.
Ghana is a country that only recently received its independence from colonial rule, and although the British rule ended in 1957, many of its effects are still in play. The remnants of colonial rule may be responsible for the negative self-perceptions many Ghanaians exhibit towards their country’s goods and products. While they are proud of themselves and their country many have little confidence in what they produce. “It’s from England it must be better.” One seamstress sewed a “made in China” tag in the cloths she produced because they sold better. Remnants of colonial rule may be in part responsible, as socialism was Poland and Nicaragua, for their lack of confidence in Ghanaian goods the lower perception of self-direction. Before Ghana’s independence, the British acted as a governmental parent controlling the future steps of the nation. Now an independent nation, Ghana still seems trapped under the umbrella of others influence. Businesses mimic the parental influence of Britain and other European nations and sometimes even appear unwilling to move outside their realm of influence. Self-direction may be perceived as a weaker trait because in the past Britain made the calls, this leaves many Ghanaians uncomfortable to take the lead today.
It is interesting to see that the same problems surround creativity in both Poland and Ghana.  For the most part, those interviewed say that their own country exhibits this trait but also add that it is not supported financial, with education or with proper facilities. In Poland it was found that under the socialistic education system students were encouraged to blend in and move together in a similar and parallel fashion. This does not encourage creativity or self-direction. The typical Ghanaian classroom lacks hands-on-experience that can encourage creativity; yet a typical business in Ghana requires these traditional hands on skills. The British-based education system, which much of Ghana exhibits, teaches students that traditional African craft are for the illiterate. When these skills are not taught in the classroom students assume these traditional African crafts and hard manual labor is something for the uneducated.
In Ghana, creativity was observed in the process of production rather than the product itself. It seemed creativity was a product of imitation. Seamstresses, carpenters, and craftsmen often imitated products directly out of a catalog exactly as they were produced elsewhere. These locally produced goods failed to improve products or ideas that could easily have been modified from their original state. They imitated but were not willing to emulate these designs into their own culture.
In Ghana and Poland, there is a common belief that risk taking is difficult because it is believed the payoff will not likely occur. In both countries there was read concern that they would lose everything. Ghanaians commonly described that taking a risk puts immense stress and even danger to entire families. Additionally, it was found that the perceived consequences of a risk often outweighed the benefits. Ghanaians also described severe social stress when taking a risk. Many Ghanaians were looking for work but would turn down every apprenticeship position open. These paid positions are often left unfilled because it is believed that they are meant for the illiterate and uneducated. They describe a country where status is more important than wealth; chance of financial gain is far outweighed by the social risk of “stepping down” to a position of hard labor.
The four traits energy, creativity, risk-taking, and self-direction could be seen as essential for successful entrepreneurship. Missing two of the attributes makes entrepreneurship and country wide development much more difficult. It is most interesting to see that in Ghana, Poland, and Nicaragua the same problems exist for varying reasons. In all three countries, development in entrepreneurship is slowed by their perceived lack of self-direction and admitted fear of taking risks.
To see more on entrepreneurship and innovation in Ghana visit Kase Knochenhauer’s blog at landofthegoats.blogspot.com

Hedging my bet


I walked in rivers 
With depth above my head to drown 
I walked barefooted on hot coal on the hottest day 

I crossed the Sahara 
With no water to quench my thirst 
I climbed Everest with no oxygen mask 

I spread my wing span, and from lift off 
They were ravished with holes, the size to shock 
And threatened to hold hostage my flight 

My balance took me close to insanity 
Shifting back and forth 
From ecstasy to trepidation 

To walk I built the right muscles 
To hedge my bet on what to call 
My own to have, with value I render 

So forgive me, if I am to lose my sanity going barmy 
On account of,  your debauchery of corruption  
For I hedged my bet and walked backwards 

In rivers, barefoot on coals, with broken wings  
To put value on what I call my own 
Yes my own I toiled for this much my own 

DO NOT AWAKEN MY DARKENED SIDE,
 FRIEND, I AM ON THE EDGE!!! 
THE EDGE OF NO RETURN 


Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Child locks



Do not let the shadows of the night 
Fall on the day too soon 
To allow silent a breeding ground 


To awaken night creatures 
And thoughts that harass sleep's dream  
To make insomnia the kingpin 


To project the pondering mind's doubt 
On battles we fought in the day with brave heart
And left the fields with victory 


Do not let the shadows of the night 
Fall on the day too soon 
Vampire bats and boogeymen pester 


And child locks of the children's nightmare 
Manifest into real scare, night terrors for the adults 
With age and success, debt and death on bills 


And what legacies are to be left behind for prosperity 
Calling on doors, like a debt collector's knock 
Do not let the shadows,  fall on the day too soon 


We have earned this much to celebrate, bought child locks 
The brief moments of respites before sun down 
To mock the process with humor, in pursuit of road signs 


Monday, 23 April 2012

Estate houses


Moving wheels 
My life evolves and rotates, growing up
Around round and in a moving wheel 

My house is a moving wheel 
Designated to form part of the drain 
So it becomes mine for so long 

Until such time, 
Unknown and wish not to, so soon  
Too soon, so soon, not so soon 

When the big tractors come 
And the men with safety helmets proceed  
With bureaucratic halted projects, brown envelopes  

My life is in a moving wheel, my house is
And it is my pride of place, joy to have 
To call home, some where home 

Estates of communities, us as together safe 
My neighbor has no gated wall, no windows or doors 
We live in an open air community 

And my hope and pray and sincere wish 
Everyday I wake to dress for school 
Is that my house of moving wheels, my life 

Would still be there with mother 
Oh mother, when I get back, oh mother 
My home is in a drain pipe, my joy to have  


Marathon of life



Un-dust your running shoes 
And find lungs that can take the strain 
Of what we are about to bare wetness to 


How far ahead can your vision reach 
When stones are thrown, cast as a measure 
On scales set, for bench marks eyed 


Slow down your horses and their eagerness
All that energy would be needed for endurance 
The test, starts at the halfway point 


And he who sets off, first in a rush, fast 
Is not guaranteed to come first in finishing posts 
On a marathon with a stretch so far, holding breath 

I will see you at the finishing posts 
If you make it to the finishing posts 
If you ever get there, words are not good enough 

And I would always choose a Kenyan 
Over Usain Bolt for the marathon 
If history is to serve me right 



Sunday, 22 April 2012

My verdant youth



Fields are with most value 
And most loved to admire 
When they are at their verdant pasture 


And the youth of man
Is in his most prime to stand verdant 
To gallantly leap off hills unto mountains 


Why does nature play silly games with me 
Lay a feast when I am to watch my weight 
And starve me at my verdant youth ?


While the youth stand out and envy 
The riches of those a decade ahead,
Verdant with hope and wish to trade shoes 


The old envy the youthfulness of those a decade below 
So young, verdant, wild and free 
With little ponder of what tomorrow holds 


It is like the con of the retailer 
Who never has the right change to give 
Fiddling in her box, waiting to hear "keep the change" 


"Come back tomorrow" she says 
"If only you were here yesterday" she adds 
Why does nature play silly games with me ?


To deprive me of the fortune 
In my youthful verdant 
When fields are with most value of energy to burn 


Yet short straws of come back tomorrow 
Are the once we pull 
Why does nature play silly games with me??!






Saturday, 21 April 2012

The Ice cream parlour


Turn your head high lights down low 
For you blinding my thought process 

Like a coming traffic, blurred vision 
And my eyes are sensitive to the ray 

So I would be forced to blind drive 
And run like, stamped on incoming traffic 

Turn your head high lights down low 
So  I can see your begrudge 

And find ways suitable to manage a resolve 
For what use is for a road rage 

Calm down now son, woman, calm down 
Just low down your emotions heightened 

And turn your head high light down low, down low 
I do not see, I can not see, too well in such encounters 

But I respond better, much better 
On an agreed compromise of civil, friendship 

So turn your head high lights down low 
Grab a seat, lets brake the temper with an ice cream chill  

Down to my rhythm of lie, simple, simple with vibe 
Down to make sense of your displeasure 

Come come now, chill why don't you 
Here, just there is the ice cream parlour 




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Friday, 20 April 2012

Message in a bottle


Eat, walk, work and play 
Sleep, wake, wash and pray 


Sleep, dream, form characters to relate 
And let me be present in your dreams 


Run, dance, swim, and jump 
Slip, slide into pools and lets get wet together 


Shop, wash, drive and see friends 
Side by side and let me be by your side 


For time is precious, so short, on value to have 
And us to please, we please, our time to be 


Send me a flower and say you love me 
And even in your absent, lets us be so close together 


Eat, walk, sleep and pray 
And to be by your side I will always be 


If you get this message in the bottle, I sent 
Then you know, I will always be by your side 


So sleep, wake, wash and pray 
And know I love you, I will always love you 





Thursday, 19 April 2012

City life, metropoly



Give me a row of houses 
A line of streets, set 
With lights to glow at night 


Give me a shopping mall  
A car park area, to line my park 
And pray no fool leaves dents, while I am gone 


Which is a complicated affair, I tell you 
When it comes to who to blame 
On account of insurance cover to have  


So signs are always left to read 
Which says, "at owners own risk" 
Like the wild west, each for his own 


But my options are few and far between 
So I guess, I always risk to buy a roll for wipes 
Where signs are left, for arguments sake, just in case 


Give me a complex of offices and industrial area, 
Area-ed signed, may be apart, maybe together 
To work and earn my keep 


But most of all 
Give me a park to walk, sit and run free 
And a stadium of sort, so I can be tribal on support 


Then I know, friend oh friend 
You have given me  a metro-poly 
To say I am living in the 21st century 


A few hand gadgets to add 
To say I am living in the 21st century 
This is the make of the 21st century 

Happiness a ticket bought



Happiness is a journey 
A long way on the route 
Of life and tribulations to stops 


Happiness is a mentality 
A state of mind of perception 
Of what one thinks, in views held 


Happiness is a philosophy 
With what questions in rhetoric 
And answers left to ponder, wonder  


Why happiness is an angle of view 
Is the cup half full or half empty 
In context, in context, are you happy 


Will the cup have to be full to be 
Between then and now, and now 
That we journey, what will it be for you 

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

The nursery life



I would favor the wobbly legs 
And a few falls, would not look so wrong 
On the basis of efforts manifested  


I would be warm to green shoots 
And support germination with stands 
To help, as sign posts to the sun's energy 


I will buy a water can 
With holes like shower heads 
And make it rain, make it rain 


I would build green houses 
To reduce risk of the elements  
And tender the soil to support your growth 


But this would be my conditions laid 
You have to break through the comfort of
Protective shells to show me your willingness 


Nature and I would be there for you after 
And I would favor your wobbly legs 
And a few falls would not be so wrong 

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Of what kind



What kind of a bird would I be
What colors of feathers
And wing span would I have

What kind of fruits will I favor 
What songs will I sing song 
What beak would I possess

What kind of tail would I have
What of its length to be, shall it be
Long or short, of a color or multiple  

But most of all, most of all, I say most of all   
Before all the queries of above and more
Of finishing touches to have, and some

What kind of nest would I build
To safeguard my eggs, for my very existence
Most of all, most of all, what kind would it be 

Monday, 16 April 2012

Crimson's painful rain


Just as the winds blow and we all breathe air 
Can the pain of one, infect a whole community 
Like a disease of melancholy and sadness 

And see red painted on all roads and houses, walls and roofs 
Like rain of blood poured into rivers and on people too 
To make dead all the fishes that swim 

Can the hurt of one, the cut  
Bring to the brink and see the departing of lovers 
With bouquet discarded without care 

And the spirit of love to run fast  
Faster on chariot to escape cupid 
And have the soul fall in oblivion from lack of feed 

Can crimson be darker than black 
And have black be the corner stone 
That stands guard between pain and greenery 

Yet if the sun would shine bright yellow on us 
And the pink cousin of red would dilute the intensity of cuts 
Like anointment on an angel's head in a circular glow  

The rage and destruction of crimsons pain would quell 
And we would replant what seeds, were kept safe in blue box 
To have a future to come back to, if we are lucky  



Sunday, 15 April 2012

Road maps, Accra to Kumasi



In the red dust, that invades 
In the sun, that announces relentless 
In the sounds, projected in speakers 


In the crowds that gather for occasions 
In the colorful clothes portrayed  
In the vibrancy of the atmosphere 


In ceremonial, festive and crusading 
In religion, birth, marriage and death 
In traditions and rites upheld 


The banter and the laughter 
The shouting and finger signals 
The aroma and taste, exciting on taste-buds  


A thousand miles, Gulliver traveled 
Through lands of giants and the others  
To find meaning in search of treasure 


Last night I saw a man with body paint all over 
He danced to a live music band 
Until his heart's content 


Upon an open air space, fresh breeze 
Where drinks poured, adding to delight 
And barbecue of kebab on sticks were served  


I laughed  on therapy 
I laughed loud on therapy 
I laughed loud on therapy 


Pinch me



Instant of breath in respiration  
Sight, sound and a touch to captivate 
Sensation means I am alive 

Saturday, 14 April 2012

The Naked King



What do I make of you 
How do I approach thee 
In ways, delicate so not rattle your resolve 


What do I say to you  
When every word with reason 
Feels like it has been laced in acid 


And it burns your ear drums on impact 
Which leaves me, with guilt 
How do I approach thee 


And say with honesty 
Your path is with troubles 
I am no clairvoyant, but I foresee 


What do I make of thee 
What do I say to thee 
How do I approach thee   



Thursday, 12 April 2012

If I was the president



A journey; a step at a time, to the other side 
Reconditioning to conform to conformity, foundations 
Adjustments to be made to the system, fit for purpose 


Clogs, titches and stitches here and there, therefore 
A few teething problems to be resolved, henceforth 
Careful with the local water, the first hurdle on route   


No man walks from the tropics, barefoot  
To the Himalayan and climbs Everest, no joke  
Without breaking a sweat, least of his worries 


Clocks get physically wind, to redefine 
To fall in line with the local norm 
An hour here, an hour there 


Fingers pointing to directions needed 
With meaning to correspond, synchronize 
 Then clocks, clocks, are fine tuned to tick away 


Bricks are laid, organised on structure 
Brick on brick, to elevate 
To form castles and be a kings domain 


Essentially change would have to be made 
And so is said of all conditions in life 
To be successful in establishing ones own post 

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

A Magician's stage


Step into the land of dreams, while awake  
Awaken your imagination, to harvest visions 
See illusions, abracadabra, life as a magician's stage 

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

Bumps on the road



When I was a child 
I laughed and wept, with little prod  
And wondered where candies were made.  


As an adult, on short breaks
A brief encounter was made 
Handshakes with serendipity 


Merry making with liquid miracles 
And in companion in communion in union 
Where the free spirited, gather  


We called the bluffs of stress and worry 
With mockery and laughter 
Until the cows came home. 


Today, in new dawns, 
We wear our helmets of thinker's cup 
With suits to conform, ready for battles


Rome has to have it's share of the cake 
And the tax man is impatient 
Something to do with his, poor childhood. 


A luta continua is the order of the day 
And the front line stands as where 
We are required, in uniforms of codes 


That time will be on us again, to break glass  
But for now, buckle up, friend 
There are bumps on this road 

Monday, 9 April 2012

Island of eggs



Egg rains on a cloudy day  
Crack shells to show new visions of you 
Sat bathing, hair dangling, new birth  


With passion of thy tender love 
A dog barking to announce ooh-rah 
Like the trumpets pronounce in chambers 


This is vision surrealism of view 
Seen with red feathers in your presence  
Anchored on invisible strings from the heavens  


Red cells of blood, to form life, to form you 
Life of your being, of your purpose 
To be of this realm on touch down


On egg's island, a Faberge of you 
Coming on a chariot  as royal  to a throne  
Where, treasured shells carpet the floor after birth

The making of you 
I envisaged the making of you, sage 
I saw your prominence before you were crowned 





To Kwahu Mountains



A season for crosses we carry 
And chocolates with Easter bunnies 
As cheerleaders, waving a pompoms 


A season for life's steep mountains 
We visualize to climb, that far up 
The traffic jam of slow progress


And the value of sacrifice 
Dearly beloved, for knowing you 
Of friendship and its true meaning 


We pledge to a cause, an Alma mater 
This will be our defining legacy 
And we make a pact, with life for the duration 


Easter is agreed, junction stops, as the celebration
Of  the pain of perseverance, holding on 
The stumbling blocks, of hold backs 


And repeat steps, de javu in reality 
Where we conjure, our inner strength 
To finish off, standing on top of mountains 


A thousand more will start this journey 
A thousand more, would have wished they did 
Only a handful will make it to the peak, pick a boo


A season for crosses we carry 
And chains with medallions, as symbols 
Heavy with what is expected, this much 


And tomorrow will tell, tomorrow will tell 
There is a cross on my bed room wall 
It glows in the dark 


I will have bird's flight and glide on descend 
With the crown and blazing glory 
Beneath, a thousand more waiting to climb 

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