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Friday, 1 December 2017

Who made me a slave

Who made me a slave
In the 21st century
Who locked me in chains, caged

For Africa, as a slave
Trump over Hillary, seeking refuge
Everyday, anyday; oasis in dystopia

She is the reason
I am being sold as a slave
In Libya in the 21st century

For those that talk
Are not as dangerious
As those that act

Oh and Obama
Is no son of Africa
An imposter

He Killed Gadafi
For a place at the table
Of opulence, a con artist

Will not  judge him well
Time will be a pain to his name

He wasted the opportunity
A con artist, with a Noble prize
He killed so many, blood on his name

"When you try desperate
To be liked by all,
You disappoint those that matter"

Death is when legends are born
Expensive for cowards
A true test of value's resolve.

And religion has failed us all
A dirty mirror to clean
With no reflection on morality

A weight in gold of riches,
Stolen from the poor
In daylight of blind men

Plagued by the disease
Of self preservation of politics
Hallow, my material wealth so much

Assembled, butt sat next to corrupt men
On high tables deep in conversation
On common grounds shared

Why should I sugar coat my my pain
I am a slave in the 21st century
My leaders have failed me

I am back in the hands
Of my colonial masters
Who refused to let me into their land

Master, Master take me back
My land of riches
Made dry by corrupt men

Master wouldn't open doors
So at the gates of exit across seas
In my own land I am made a slave

We slaughtered all our heroes
And went back begging
To our old masters

I am a willing slave
In the 21st century
My leaders sold me cheap 

Saturday, 18 November 2017

The Debt Collector

I have stopped
Doing good for now
It is costing me too much

Like the sales seasons
Reduced to clear of summers
Wear no longer on the racks.

Debt collection
Has become too much
Of a hustle now

As agreed rejected now
Having to chase
Dear old regret

Just to put things back
In their rightful place
Back to order

Loosing on opportunity cost
Where whole meal is now
Reduced to piece meal

I am forced
To pick crumbs off
The table

Less than bite size to nible on
When it is my own cake
To have

I called a guy
Who owed me one
He did not pick

The next time we spoke
It was all awkward
Why awkward

When I am
Just taking back my own
Owed me

Why gain interest of stress
As value added
On loans given

Friday, 17 November 2017

Legends of the outpost

Case in point, Frank Matthews
Like a page in a chapter
Opened in a book

Verses, what I have read in pages
Are pages to my left, flipping
Reading like a testimony of events

Functionality of  blurred lines
With reality, stranger than fiction
And you can't write  like nature

Even Shakespeare wouldn't try
And if there are masters
To be mentioned he stands

Suspense volcanic tendencies
That keeps one at the edge of seats
Closer each time to the tip

Hearts palpitations
Of  mounting notions
A slight change in the atmosphere

Third eye, sixth sense, web energy
On vibrations, the winds have picked up
Fair warning is like insider trading

To be given an unfair advantage
To fold up on poker tables with poker face
Cash in your chips and walk away

The house always wins in the end
But only against the greed that got stack
That stayed for far too long in the end

There are legends in this game
They are the ones that lived
To tell their stories that excite

Old school, that say we owned
This town and painted it Red
In our days, red in our days

And left some raining day money
We living on fruits of planted seeds
Raining day money, raining day money

And like Shawshank redemption
We walked away, clean exist
Into the sunset as legends of the outpost

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

City Life

City life,
We are all guilty
Of the crime

And yet we are all
Victims of the crime,
Be it for love or greed

Honesty is knowing
The moon has no light
But who cares

When saying
The moon's light is beautiful
 Just sounds right.

No oné seeks to be clear
On the sides we stand on
As black or white,

We just want to know
How to handle grey,
On cloudy days

For that is reality
In the míst of it all
All around us

And what remains after
In the míst of it all
When all is said and done

When all is said and done
When all is said and done
When all is said and done 

Sunday, 12 November 2017

In love and war

When guns are pointed
 Even in peace times,
There is always the risk
Of friendly fire.

The enemy within,
With itchy trigger fingers
Always looking for a reason
To execute excuse actions

Where innocent souls
Are lined up on firing squads
On pretence of an invite
To break bread at Sun set

There will be tragedy
When perfect aims are taken
And shots fired on command
By Generals sitted blowing peace pipes

As strategy in war games
Awaiting news from the front line
What gives, what gives
Am I to fold, waiting news from Waterloo

Sir your heart is not in it.
And it is bad games manship
To sit and keep watching time
Are you in expectation

Sometimes Trump's character
Is needed giving fair warning,
He may sound rude but fair
Enough  to give fair warning

Than to pull daggers
And stab while talking peace
And demand medal of honour
As a brave warrior a soldier 

Saturday, 11 November 2017

Night and Day

Night expects day
Just as day
Expects night,

Like work shift to clock off
After handover on
Twelve hours long

And the moon
Is warned, be warned
To bear witness at night

As friends of the Sun
But not to speak of
What is seen

And the ecslipe is
Told the same
Be warned, you are warned

Recognising it was a privilege
To have been invited
To bear witness

Not a right
To have a view
And comment on what was seen

It is rude to have a view
Without a given right
To comment on what was seen

For night to be
And expect day
As welcome

And for day to be
And expect night
As welcome

Thursday, 9 November 2017

Meek Mills on the cotton farm

What the neighbours don't realise is that
They are still living on the cotton farm

Chains are now like luxury items worn
But to the effect it's purpose it serves

This means any one of them
Can be pulled off, at any time

Of cause the masters
Do that On the regular

It is a must
It has to be done

To enforce the condition
That must be kept

Neighbours on the cotton farm
Working hard to please Master

The celebrated amongst them
Oh and there are a few to name

They are glorified as heroes
But dare not act away from the farm

They are the once with
The highest cotton pick on the farm

The celebrated neighbours
The best cotton pickers

But oh from time to time
Master has to put them in their place

Master is good, Master is good
Master lets us play on the cotton farm

After we have picked so much cotton
Master let us play on the cotton farm

Today though it is Meek Mills turn
He was naughty, naughty, naughty

Master pulled him away
He will spend some time in the cooler

No longer allowed on the cotton farm
He once was the best Cotton picker

But Master has to make an example
Master has to make an example of

Here on the cotton farm
The neighbours sometimes forget 

Saturday, 4 November 2017

The Doctor's Time

If time is given
Its due respect

Ghana will go
A long way

And Ghanaians will
Accomplish a lot more

Before they die
Rest in peace, free of time

Ask me why,
Why why why

I have been sat
Long in waiting

For four hours long
This morning, and counting

Clocks still ticking
Tucking, ticking away with fingers

Loud to my ears
On fustration

My heart pumping
Blood pressure up.

I need a Doctor
His time waste is killing me

On self diagnosis
This much I know 

Friday, 3 November 2017

November my dedication

My Father is a son of November
I  am a son of November
And my dedication follows

November is when
I am aligned perfectly
With the universe, serendipity

My web energy
My Source energy
Are fully charged

This is my birth month
My grace period
My dedication follows

My thread always finds
The eye of the needle
Around this time

On first attempt
Always on first attempt
My dedication follows

I am well centered
Well balanced
Around this time

I am in great expectation
Around this time
My dedication follows

I have my hands opened
Being patience in waiting
A great gift from the Source

My joy is compounded
My cup overflows
My dedication follows 

Thursday, 2 November 2017

Being me

If you see my, foot steps
In a sand, steps marked
And you place your, foot in

Granted, it does not mean
Granted, you have walked
Granted, in my shoes, No!

You only placed your foot
In a mark I left in the sand
I left behind, I did that

A by product
Many of which I have left
Many times over in my walk of life

If you are that desperate
Then try my worn shirt
For size, one size, fits all

Filled with my sweat
Left in my laundry basket
Maybe a day or two to fester

Yes, it stinks a bit, a bit it does
But I tell you, hear hear
It  is the closest you will get

To an idea
Of my essence
Through my journey

A wax work at Madame tussaud
Is just that, a wax work
Resemblance on plastic like Barbie

Acting on scripts, actors
Would not know my pain
How can they, how can you

And if we stood on the same
Platform for a brief period
It does not mean we are as one

When sounds are made
It echoes from a distant
But echoes can never claim ownership

If you see my foot steps
In a sand steps marked
And you place your foot in

Granted it does not mean
Granted you have walked
Granted in my shoes, No!

You only just read
My script as an actor
You just mimicked my steps

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

Crowning a King

Summon all the elders
And ask, do ask
Who will be made a King

He sat humbly
At a corner unassumed
Almost out of pictures frame

A few others frantically
Waving hands for attention
And attention given

He saw no need
No need  to
why ever to

Relevance can not
Be contested when left
For prosperity to judge

Hang ons, hang ons
Fall off past their value
Just over the atmospheres range

We seeing stars
And we seeing stars
We seeing stars

Hold on, seatbelts on
Jet propelled set
Over the horizon

Just there
Different perspective
Relate on reasoning

What is a King to a God
What is in a name
To energy and beyond

What will  your views be
After  you have  been
To the other side and back

I can tell,
Your whole body language
Your  radiant energy will tell

Summon all the elders
And ask, do ask
Who will be made a King

He sat humbly
At a corner unassumed
Almost out of pictures frame

How is a King made
Live long enough
And be a blessing in people's lives

And you will be honoured
Honoured by them
And you will be their King


Monday, 30 October 2017

The dead and stress

Even stress is envied by the dead
Ask me what my value is

Time is of the essence
Time with a purpose

Like empty baskets waiting
To be filled in with an element

Elementry, some say
You can't carry water in a basket

Tell them, Gods honest truth be told
They really haven't been tested

At the elenth hour to innovate
Find a reason, find your focus

And when the time comes
You will indeed find a way

Fight or fly I tell you, I have seen
Eagles carrying cows for dinner

Goats winning fights against bulls
What is your motivation

You should know, no one ever
Regrets the things they did

On their death bed
No confessions hold weight

Unless you were a witch
With a weight so heavy, of flesh eaten

Only the things they were
So afraid to attempt doing

And you will hear them
Pronounce your death

Calling time on clocks
Yet your conciousness alive

Brain activity
Do we still make memories

You will have the awareness
Of being to hear all

Wishing to go back
To make an attempt

I tell you
Even stress is envied by the dead 

Life is beautifully ugly

How the bird feels
Halfway across the ocean
With no land insight

When the rain decides
To collect its debt
With interest

And you know, I tell you, trevally
These are fishes that eat birds
Flying out of the sea to attack

Feathers are left
Swiming to drown after
Spiraling down the deep blue

Yet even stranger things
Are found half way
Through on oceans voyage

From an elephant to a cow,
An iguana
And what have you.

All stranded with mystrey
As to how they got there
In the first place.

Oh when the debt collectors
Come on christmas day
In the queens land

With court order
To pick all things valuable to sell
Yes on christmas day,

Oh the poor man with his child
Hanging to his legs tight with fears
Tears his Dad will be taken as well

On christmas day.
Oh yes on christmas day
On christmas day

Oh life is beautifully ugly
Where a drop from the
Rich man's golden cup

Would save a whole family
From distitute
So poor

Yet a poor man
Knows nothing
Of the rich mans debt.

He would have stopped
Feeling so bad
Being compared to the rich man.

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

Identity Crisis

The greatest wealth
In life is being

Being able to maintain
Your character of being.

After all the scar test,

The trials and tribulations
And betrayal we encounter.

#life #philosophy

If you see the old smile
Wish on prayers, I will pray with u

That you can be afforded
That blessing of being

If you live to see that age
If you are graced to be

I pray you don't loose yourself
I pray I meet the same person,

I pray you don't become a stranger,
Oh lord I pray

That we are not forced
To walk past each other,

Strangers we have become
Strangers we have become 

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

My late Blossom

I am going through
A stage right now

A transformational
Stage right now

A long awaited
Stage right now

I feel it through thoughts
And emotional essence

I am in expectation
Of a new dawn as new

Awaiting a paradigm shift
Of self  awareness

Though it is dounting
It is also with anticipated joy

I am whole now,
No longer walking alone

On these pathes of life
On these narrow roads

I am transforming
Into grace of being

I am becoming
An increased value

Not with wealth
Of material gain

But with an inner
Peace of being

This is a late blossom
And spring is always welcome 

Sunday, 15 October 2017

Why I am Pie

No one ever wants
To know truth, be told

Because we are all a sum
Average of complexity, observed

With a narrowed down summary
That forms an identity

That we define as truly us

Plus or minus to a significant
Number, as we proceed

Oh but who is doing maths here
We are a summary of pie.

Pie r2 .  3.141592.......

Keep going and you will
Get to numerical codes

Your phone number and mine too,
Your bank account and mine too

Date of birth and death as well
And all inbetween on digits play.

Saturday, 14 October 2017

To the departed

Saturday is here again,
Find your funeral attire
And wear to attend

Many that have left us
Take their final journey today
Towards and beyound

Earth opens its bosom to take back
That which she gave so free,
But on time limit, to expire.

Feel a sense of humility
As u bare witness,
Put into context ur troubles today.

Appreciate the blessing
Of being alive,
As alive you are today

To feel, to touch, to smell, to smile,
To cry, to laugh, to yawn, to yell,
To sing, to talk, to whisper, to blink

And for all that you have
Taken so much for granted
For being about, as alive today

Grab some sand
And throw it down the grave,
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes

Here we part ways,
To be only held in memories
Of the living

Do not show your face here again
No ghost in form is invited to be
In this realm, not to be

No pride made it past ur last breath
Allow the winds to take
That which the soil left behind

Be light past a feather's weight
Ascend to life beyound and stay
Only as reincarnation return

Send our greetings
To those that went before
Be at peace, rest in peace.

To the departed

Friday, 13 October 2017

A witness statement at Atomic

Do I dare spit tongue on current affiars, on witness statements at Atomic junction

Cars parked in car parks
Bubbbles burst from baloons hanged.

Winds and fire swiveling
bond entwined in a hug
running up on heated romance

Case in point, case at a point
Atomic on a blast

LPG as life persons gone.

Abbreviations on roll call
as register of respondents
missing out on duties tasked.

School drop outs are NPA, EPA GNFS, GSA and the list is long for count.

RIP responsible incomprehensible persons at task

Still not sure where duty lies and responsibilities pinned on uniforms warn

Mushroom of fire in the air and that shocked us all in to asking questions

Who done it, seriously who done it
Who done it?

Riddle, riddles on the role the Chichinga seller must have played

You know naked flames and gas don't mix, you know, up in the air clouds do form

Then it is all a matter of time on clocks.

Where were you to have been made a witness of

Bearing testimony to a witness statement in a public court

The masses do find you
all guilty of neglect

Dereliction of duty as assigned

I attest, on witness stand, I attest

Sunday, 17 September 2017

City of Angels

City of angels but no wings are needed here, through the tunnels we all get dirt on our shoulders.

Those with wings shed them off
it is no use in the gutters of life.

We shed skins but that doesn't make us new as born, again born, clean slate

Snakes with bite marks crying out for fair play.. stones are thrown with guilty conscience, confessions to those that have more to confess to.

Do not wear white to an all white party, you will be the only one with the odd cloth on, at the end of the night.

I bleed but I have no cuts on, it is all internal, my cure is laughter.  Laugh out loud like a mad man on therapy

Don't ask the priest what I said, he is tongue tied to carry my off loaded burden. How fair is that to push my weighted average on him to carry.

Then day breaks, everything gets swept under the carpet. You have to learn to let go, it is the only way to make it to dawn.

Amnesia has more in blessing to give to help forget and carry on. Cold nights are a nightmare.

Shedding weight, and the fat guy looks like he who ate all the pie, trouble is, there are so many fat ones around.

Beggers strike in protest and Joseph is being economical with the interpretation of pharoah's dreams.

Friday, 1 September 2017

The red mist

The red mist is the devil to the wise man's peace.

His reasoning and patience, his calm and his toughts.

For such storms explodes and fires lighting strikes

That are purposeful to sabotage, good reasoning

I have sat with sage too many times to have forgotten what he looks like.

But sometimes I just walk past in a hurry with such speeds

In search of him, when it matters most

Watching a fish drown in its own habitat

Today I found my medicine after yesterday's red mist

We are wise, yes indeed we are, the world knows we are

But foolish at the edges where stitches that hold our strings  together become undone

Sage warned me about this, he said he experienced it himself

That to all wise men, be careful of the red mist.

It is the devil to a wise man's peace

It is the devil to a wise man's peace. 

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

The creed

I am the best of my kind,
Kindly resist in opening up my can,

Can you please
Not entice me to react

Reach out into my bag
And pull something out of line.

Believe me
I see goodness as my faith

Fine, that means you and I
Are judged the same

Sum up, for weighted average
You best be doubling your effort

To meet your gain.

Again life is flashing lights
Then we old and grey

Agreed, and no one is stronger
Or richer than time

 I know you see it as an insult
To your pride

But who cares, the most is courtesy To save your grace, not mine

Mind you, respect
That is a priviledge not a right

Rightly so to concede

I am the best of my kind,
Kindly resist in opening up my can

Tuesday, 29 August 2017

A Cat in Prayers

Sometimes even the cat finds a need to stand and pray.

We need a prayer just to make it through these times, I say we pray.

The rats are not to be trusted, no cheese will stand their temptation

The rats are not to be trusted.

I have seen their cry, begging on both knees on the floor of desperation

No sooner they grow wings and invade after being allowed space

Boldly taking up positions and demanding their claim

In broad day light, they stand, no longer hiding from view

They sleep at night now, and challenge the order by day

Sometimes even the cat, finds a need to stand and pray.

Asking when did the rat get so bold to demand a colony

And make a stand, take a stand, eye balling

Oh time hides too many, soo many secrets from realization

How else would the cat have been caught in such twisted position

Have his face, dragged through the mud.

When options gave proposition that  left better odds on the table we took non

Do not trust the rats, this I say to you

For today because of them, even the cat finds a need to stand on twos to pray.

Cat in prayers, with wounded pride.

Monday, 7 August 2017

Solid into nothing

Runners with cars, swimmers with speedboats, a vegetarian with meat. Quater pounder

A poor man with wealth, a short man as a giant. Gulliver's travel

Life gets confusing, bright as day when the moon comes out, full at night. The wolves sing songs 

A ghost with skin, an  anorexia fat man, a dried up sea and the Sahara was once a forest, sex change. Who flipped it all.

Fact is fiction, plus a pinch of salt
Pandora left her box empty. The thief got tricked

Somewhere I read the south and north pole are flipping their magnetic fields. True story.

Some say miracles have lost their value "paper weight"

I swear I am taking a stand, this time firm on solid grounds, below me the tectonic plates are moving. Earth quakes 

Earth is moving at a speed of 67, 000 miles an hour, speed limits on school runs

Who called the sloth slow, sat in these speeds, are you serious.

Nothing is as it seems to be, past a given condition, every solid is liquid, heated up, past liquid is vapor, then beyond that which my eyes sees.

I ask past my sight, does anything have meaning?

My third eye is without sight but wide to the views of conscious visions

Intelligence is never physical, that is just observation based on a given point of view. Assumptions

I breathe God everyday, I feel it in the weathers play, it is in the connection bond I have with others

It is the feeling in my heart the first organ made of me, made for me.

I am not what you see, solid into nothing

I am the feeling you have when you are around me

I am what you think of me, in my absence.

So tell me, what does a rich man has of value

What does a poor man has so poor

Runners with cars, swimmers with speedboat. 

Who are you fronting , fronting. 

Do you see me or feel me in your presence 

Do you sense me from a distance 

I am thunder, tell runners with cars, I am thunder 

Friday, 21 July 2017

Chester and Chris on loose strings

Chester Bennington and Chris Cornell on loose strings, one more light to the world then it is lights out, oh Linkin park.

But here is a story, a true story of life.

Every step that I take is another mistake to you.  This time I took one, one too far, this time beyond reach like a balloon torn from its string, flying with the angels

For my shadows tormented me and I fought these demons hard, but they kept appearing each time I thought I had won these battles, each time after I had found some peace, each time the devil visits.

My dreams were hijacked my visions made blurry, my thoughts were haunted but I had the biggest of heart, that fought so hard, these fights within.

I prayed to be free of this torture,
I prayed to be given my reprieve. But every step that I take was another mistake to you and this time I took one, one too far, this time beyond reach

And pay close attention I say, after I am gone to others like me, others like us, angels like us; the most gifted and the kind hearted of all

Those with the biggest smile of all, those with open arms to most,
theirs is with a bigger internal battle, insomnia is their unwanted guest at night, yet they mask it so well.

Every step that I take is another mistake to you and this time I took one, one too far. Gone with the angels

I found my wings again, but I prayed it would have been a different path, not like this to exit.
This time I took one, one too far, this time beyond reach.

Remember me well and heed my advice on lessons learnt too late, for too many of us have been lost to the winds on loose strings.

Thursday, 6 July 2017

Jay Z "Story of O.J" 4:44

Is Jay Z still on some "O.J story"?
 Ask Jay Z,  ask , ask Jay Z, 
Ask Jay Z, ask ask Jay Z

He said it, brought it up on tunes as the "Businessman" not a "Business man", 
so lets discuss at 4:44,  16 minutes to 5 guess before the close of the 9 to 5 modern day slave, working shift.

 And there is, always a string behind the curtains of Black success in America; states, be it in music, sports or any other  you take
You can't make these tunes, music and diss the hands that feeds you, you can't make this up

And if you do, that means they allowed you to and if they allow you to, then it is forever worse than not saying anything at all, because it is just self mockery, than anything at all

Just saying, no Black man or woman is ever successful, unless and until with their success story, they embrace Africa with pilgrimage and pride, visiting the place and championing its cause, waking up in it's arms

Ask a Jewish man why, why why why

This is the difference between the greats of yesterday and the prop shows " dollar weight, paper weight, weighted average, feather weight, secret societies ILT" of today.

Ask where was Colin Rand Kaepernick on the 4th of July?

Ask what society Jigga man belongs to, where does his loyalty lie? Hova over

Is Jay Z still on some O.J story, preaching on self mockery? Making signs and symbols with the eye and hands, meaning lost to the crowd, on some subliminal shit?

So do tell Jigga, are we still on the "Businessman" 4:44 platinum sold, juice for your conscience or we talking real talk on an O.J story.

Calling roll call at 4:44 just 16 minutes to freedom, on modern day slavery, calling out sleep walkers and the sharp ones who is still awake

Kanye, Future, Eric Benet, O.J Simpson, Bill Cosby.....37 in all and counting


Tuesday, 4 July 2017

Shody Please.

 Shody please, please, please
Shody*4 please please please
Shody*2 please please please

I am just a man
And sometimes I get it wrong,
get it wrong

Ego fooled me
And took me all the way up,

I tried to resist
But she just kept enticing me

Different hair, different body
Different eye color, different walk

I tried to resist
But she just kept enticing me

Now vertigo threatens to pull me
all the way down
Follow back, gravity is behind adding
its weight

But I am not a bird
So I don't have wings to fly
I left my parachute below,
going up, going up

Providence promised to look out for me
But it never came, never came, never came

Vanguard told me Son, be patient
Yea I should have listened to that
and that alone.

Now I have got my ego being bruised
As I fall tumbling down
off the face of the rocks

Something just went wrong along the way.

So shody please please please
Shody*4 please please please
Shody*2 please please please

 Food for thought
So now I am deep in it
digesting  it all

Was it a mirage
That brought us this close
to destruction

Did I really see paradise
Or was I day dreaming
While I was intoxicated

Or was I high on a bad seed
Or was it just me myself and I
Just being a man

Either way, what ever it was

Shody please please please
Shody*4 please please please
Shody*2 please please please

Monday, 3 July 2017

Cold Calling God

We don't pick all phone calls, we don't answer all door knocks, a poor man's wisdom means nothing to  a rich man's problem. How come if you knew better than best, please zip it, disturbing the peace.

But when God speaks it is bible, same wisdom  but we will swear by it's authentecity.

My priest replaced his color with suit and now we talking corporate, CEO levels, balancing the books, its money game and fortune favours the fool, who is richer, let me monitise my words and watch my bank balance get fat.

Confessions name changed to consultation f**k it, am charging to sit and listen to your bullshit, am charging. Cry babies needing a shrink, but acting cheap to pay the counselor, the golden word is "attack" and that gives me keys to your house and cars, signature on an open cheque. I am charging, call me Lutterodt, qualifications and certifications not needed. I am charging call me Lutterodt, I am charging

My mum stopped me, I was that close to build a cash cow and name it "Believers Shall Prosper". She said "Son, you will become a target, its a spiritual warfare" fair enough, but for now I agreed to keep it on poetry and philosophy, am still holding that card for when I get desperate. I will put on my suit and charge to consult.

God laughs when he looks down "seriously all this in my name?" I never choose you, called you, or anointed you, to speak on my behalf; half the things you say never came from me. You are  annoying me. Now where is my lawyer's number? I have poachers on my land acting like land guards (self appointed)". judgement day is too long to wait and deal with this.

We do not allow randomness to put thier hands on us in prayers, we don't say amen to any and all cold call sales men. We don't listen to negative false prophecy. We only pray, say a little prayer for yourself; amen, yes we only pray, say a little prayer for yourself; amen. #poetry #philosophy #culture

Wednesday, 31 May 2017

Captain Maxwell Adam Mahama Betrayed

How does one find the right words
To eulogies a young soul
Robbed of it's tender life

What are the right words to be used
To give meaning to the unexplainable,
Beyond  belief

Have you ever heard a nation angered
So much the clouds above
Would not thunder

And the lighting
Will dare not break the heavens.
Not this night

There are men
Who have signed thiers away,
Boldly their lives away

If to be young and to die
Let it be on the battle field
By my enemies in a foreign lands  

At least with that
I will have my honor,
Let it be known, I am a hero

Let it be by the sword or bullets
Of my enemy,
Let me gladly fall

My wife and children
Deserve that from me,
To die a hero for a cause so great

And have great stories
Told of my adventures
For I am a hero

Let my wife and children
Hold their heads high
Knowing I had a fair fight

And I fought well as a soldier
So well I was honoured
A hero, a brave hero

Let two officers walk to my doorstep
Knock on my door to announce my passing   To my family, as it is done with honor.

No, not like this, not by my own
By my own that I have pledged
An oath to protect and defend

No, not by betrayal
Not by a mob crowd striping me
And burning my naked body

With no modesty left
With pictures and videos
On social media going viral

No not like this on friendly soil
No not like this for I am a CAPTAIN
I deserve better in rose cottage

On a dying man's last wish,
I deserve better,
As a legacy

My wife and children
Deserve better
I am a Captain

I  am a Captain,
Not to be cheapened and die, murdered
Without my military attire

And with my name tarnished
As a common criminal an armedrobber  How dare you, I am a Captain!

I am a Captain of the 5th Battalion,
I am a solidier in the Ghanaian army
I deserve my respect on my dying breathe

I deserve my respect.

And in command

That is who I am.
A fallen solidier
A decorated Captain, that is who I am


Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Manchester Today

Oh Manchester today
we hear your cry
we hear your heartache

We see ur fresh scar
we witness your attacks
A cheap shot thrown at you

You have just been caught
in the middle of a
senseless debauchery

That feeds on hatred and fear
that targets the innocent
and celebrate horror,

Confused as to what is gained by it all,
a pathe unending of victimisation
a war with no cause,

No clearly drawn out battle fields
Out away, far away, where soldiers
bid fair well to their love ones

Find a safe field with equal measure
away from the innocent
and battle it out.

Why take on a civilian
and say it is just, for it is war,
All is fair in war

Who's medal of honor
is for hire so cheap,
placed with a discount reduce to clear

If for faith of religion
which God will welcome u with open arms preying on the vulnerable,

If for pride
such hallow deeds
will be deemed empty

By your own conscience
ones the arrogance of justification
dies out, so short lived

To have scarred a mother's womb
and robbed a life of it's time,
Her tears are acid rain on you

To have broken a father's heart
by taking away he's love,
His anger will huant you

And that of the children
left orphans by your acts
t hier loneliness will be your burden

A weight so heavy
you have just placed on your self.
A curse beyond this world

There is no justification
of war, for war of terror
none at all exist

If we accept each others difference
as the true beauty of God
for God is diverse

As his greatest attribute
and his hands are diverse
as shown through all of nature,

So why pin a mark on God
and insist on killing for such false cause
No one asked you for, no God needs

No God did.

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

The Time Clock

Liquid rain,
Will the rain melt in time
For supper?

Is the sun an hour behind time,
Forgetting to change the clock,
Winding it forward an hour

Would the moon collect its debt,
Being seen as nothing more
Than playing second fidel to the sun.

What keeps the clouds suspending
If gravity dictates that mass with weight Should come crushing down.

Oh and the havens would flood the earth, But I hear given the chance
So will the ice in the poles

And that of a mystery sea
Beneath the earth's crust, bigger in size Than all the oceans known to man.

So what is relevant, what is true,
Between life, love, sacrifice,
Religion and death.

What is the value of all we stand for,
Who's judgement is most needed,
For how long on relevance,

Who is right, who is wrong,
Who is a hero, who is a vilan.
Who is just pretending

Will time judge as well,
For all the straws we were given
Became short over time,

Even the once
That seemed long
At the time.

The rain forest
Will praise the rain and
Blame the rain for flooding it gardens,

The dessert will blame the rain
For not showing much care,
Not making time to visit

And water it's hungered thirst,
On emotions
Being all emotional

While they both insist
In  keeping their names as birth rites
Not compromising

And the morning
Will blame the sun
For being an hour late.

But at night
It is always the moon
That brings the tide in. #poetry
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