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

Politics, Rhetoric and A Voters Register

Sticks and stones on crush course, no seat belt 
And they said, we will not break, nor sweat as much 

But the police got offended 
Court injunctions before march on junctions 

Something about, someone said shouting 
Koti ooo koti, on demonstration with a cause 

Let our vote count 
Or was it new registration, some thing on rhetoric 

Graffiti splattered, plastered all around town 
Awareness, preparedness, excitement on adrenaline 

On both sides tension heightened mount 
Counting down on D-Day, today be today 

No shaking, we dey form, we dey 
Bravado sipping cocktails of adrenaline 

Something about, someone said shouting 
Protest, protest, lets protest on a hot afternoon 

Then someone said, shouting in response
Koti ooo koti on un-designated paths 

All hell breaks loose 
Skin to batons, batons to skin, for autograph's display 

Skid marks left for political talks on radio, Radio parrots, knock knock; who is there 

To be or not to be, William Wallace 
Aggrieved on judgement stand 

Society left standing on weighted average 
Waiting to see where the weight will drop 

We must be entering the election season 
Democracy, is demonstrating craziness 

Prioritizing Allegaince to Ghana

There was a time, when the Ghanaian flag held a place above all others in Ghana, with patriotism and national pride, the Red, Yellow (gold) and Green, with Black Star symbolized, the very essence of the Ghanaian.  

Democracy was to enhance unity, freedom of speech and an all inclusive development goal of the single country called Ghana, however the patriotism that Ghanaians once had for a single unified country is now being replaced by political affiliation, more and more people pledge their allegiance not to the country but to the political party they belong to. At a funeral ceremony I saw this miss guided notion of affiliation for myself, when the diseased was draped with nothing but the flag of his political party. 

This state of affair has encouraged a culture of "us against them" in the country, where the winner takes all, and the looser is put out in the sun, to dry out like a dead fish. The winning party sets about to replace all that are not known to be members of his/ her party with that of his own, regardless of their competence and their motives, the situation only adding to a culture where instead of people performing to the best of their abilities to be rewarded by that recognition, to a system where people rather more motivated to steal and hoard corrupt funds, since even if they go out of their way to achieve something worth recognizing, because of their political affiliation or lack of it, they will never get recognized for their efforts. 

Until the balance is reset where the ultimate incentive is to the betterment of the country and all affiliations are first and foremost to the country, then to the political parties, Ghana is never going to find its self on  the right path for the development it deserves.  What all political parties fight for is to serve the country, not their cronies, the reward in all phases of this paradigm is the recognition of one's achievement and not respect based on how much money they own which is mostly attained through corrupt means. Value should be defined on the basis of substance, strive and self sacrifice.  

The opposition should still see themselves with an important role to play, nominating shadow cabinet and ministers to keep the ruling party on its toe and thus bring about transparency and accountability in all areas of governance, us citizens Ghanaians should be given the opportunity to evaluate all political parties not only in election but in their proposed measures and willingness to serve the country whether they are in power or not, by their continuous contribution to the country's development all times.

This is the Ghana flag and like all the other countries that still hold allegiance to the British Monarch, such as Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and most West Indies Islands and imprint of the British flag is incorporated into their  various national flags.

The writer here, advocates the need for all political parties in Ghana as a legal requirement to have an imprint of the Ghana flag in their political flags, to help refocus where the priority of their interest should lie, in-terms of their ambitions and goals. An example is given above, on how all the various flags should look like, this should be the case before the next election in Ghana and it should reflect the expectation of the voters in the country. One should not be of a given political affiliation to vote for a particular party, but on the basis that the party in question is offering the better prospect in serving the interest of the country. 

God bless our homeland Ghana, and make our nation great and strong, bold to defend for ever....there is no mention in the national anthem of any political party, lets just remember that and do some soul searching to re-calibrate our mindset and thinking of our interest and what our individual vote should count for.  

My Area Girl

My area girl, my area girl 
My girl in mind 

If I were to write a birthday poem 
A birthday poem with a queen in mind 

It would be of a sort, something like this 
It would sound just like this, with a queen in mind ...

Butterflies are pure, she is my area girl, my area girl  
Nothing too fancy but fancy self 

Her looks so gorgeous and full of grace 
Easily could have been a beauty queen 

But stayed away from the lime light 
Elegantly shy, shy, coy and reserved 

Honeysuckle, she is just so sophisticated, effortlessly so 
Class is nothing but t' definition of her essence 

She is my area girl, my beauty queen 
Just the same, with a natural beauty 

Fragrant royal roses, she was born a beauty queen 
Nothing like barbie, all plastic filled 

Artificial in character, is not in her nature 
Not of her make, not so defined 

To rub off easily, pencil marks 
Crumbling as usual when the going gets tough 

Bailing out, no nah, not my Agyeiwaa  
My lady bird, my back bone hold 

Bird of paradise, she is my area girl, my beauty queen 
Travelling far or near my area girl 

Still, where ever we will go 
She will always be my area girl 

Like a good network, reception essential 
My area girl, my area girl

Relevance, she is just so well connected 
With nothing in tow but love to show

My area girl, as my area girl  
My area girl, my area girl, my beauty queen 

Written for Rita Denteh Agyeiwaa on her birthday
Always stay as blessed and more 
I am fortunate to know you..

Ghana's Independence; a satire

The fool finds pleasure 
In celebrating illusion and refuse to wake 

Like thinking the world 
Is no longer connected by wires 

Many of which runs on the floor 
Of the deep blue sea, lets accept miracles 

But of cause we would, magic to embrace 
We would want it that way, detached from reality 

Reality is a pill hard to swallow 
And for the kid that hates medicine 

Crushing the pills into his drink  
Works the magic, the fool with illusion 

A zombie nation, continent, where all that matters 
Are foreign owned, yet we declare independence

I would cry but I am not with enough tears 
To bail, this bankrupt nation of it's woes  

To say freedom is ours to choose 
Only a fool would be blind to the chains 

Worse is we beg for these chains 
On all four, we beg and beg 

And beg some more, for weights so heavy 
It cripples us, that is where we find comfort 

An excuse to shout victimization 
Seeking attention from the very people we accuse 

A nation is like a house, I say, an analogy 
With it's living room forming the capital 

Accra would hold that honor  
Shameful, smelly, polluted Accra, our living room

Our living room, where we host our guest 
And say, welcome to my beautiful country 

Just don't look past the air-conditioned tinted glasses
To the foreign owned hotel we will take you to rest  

To be hosted in our foreign funded and built 
Presidential palace, and our western suit in hot weather 

The middle class youth with ignorance and two phones, self-worth 
Attached to ipads like their lives depends on it, enslaved 

Yet failing to make good use of it, opportunity 
To educate their mindset about their environment 

Forgive me, I forgot to mention 
We are celebrating our independence 

With the loan money you just gave us 
Come, come you are invited as our guest, special privilege    

Come and drink and merry make 
Help us celebrate our independence from you 

Tomorrow we will be with our beggars bowl 
At your door step, bright and early for more handouts 

For we are an independent nation 
Magic and illusion, miracles we adore

Freedom and justice is a bore 
Mind over matter, it matters not, it is all bore 

Popo, Kpoti, Bobby on the beat

What do I think of the Popo, Bobby on the beat 
Officially still at work, what can he do  Kpoti 

Officially someone is taking the piss koti 
Being driven around as a third wheel hangin, Kpoti 

Officially being driven around Bobby duty bound 
Osu Oxford Street on the night rounds, "Kpoti yes sir"     

As demanded, supposedly as an escort to the honourable 
One Mr Important's, not so Important son, Kpoti 

I could not but see a satirical joke, koti  
In the scene that witnessed my presence 

So to the point of the car parking, Kpoti 
Some SUV of a kind new on the plate, Kpoti 

But looking unwanted with opulence 
What can I say, I observe I write , Kpoti 

All four doors open like sesame, Kpoti 
Then out comes Young Mr not so important 

And his entourage, following dog tale 
Of cause Kpoti gets out as well 

Officially still on duty with piss take, Kpoti 
Officially being driven around double piss take 

For someone's pleasure 
But wait Kpoti, koti gets left out 

Standing next to the locked up car 
To stand and wait, for hours long, Kpoti 

For Young Mr not so important 
And his entourage to go have fun, Kpoti 

On a friday night, he is on the beat, Kpoti 
What more would Popo, Bobby want on the beat

Officially still on duty, piss take on Kpoti 
Officially koti has been assigned 

The generous tax payer, to foot the bill 
Why not, monkey dey work ...Kpoti 

For piss take and the rest, Baboon dey chop
Poor old Popo, Kpoti, Bobby on the beat 

Trotro Stories #12 slap the mate

We stopped in the middle of the road
No hard shoulders to call safe grounds

Non empty that passed by
You see this situation could have been avoided 

If I listened to my instinct  
And the strange noise from the trotro 

Just before it moved 
Mate, stop, stop I dropped something 

Could have got me out of this 
Predicament and to a place on route 

Close to home now 
No AA or RAC to call for assistant 

Bells of frustration rang 
By the passengers, gathering weight 

Something would have to give 
And that is the mate calculating 

How much to charge us 
Customer service in the trotro 

He would get a slap 
It is just a matter of time 

Too many hands are being thrown 
In the air right now, he would get a slap 

I just see it coming, a slap is called for 
He would get a slap, for sure 

Kenya's silent birds

The earth, is silent today 
The winds will not blow protesting 
The birds will not sing, tightening their beaks 
The trees refuse company, welcoming no friends

The trees would not allow the birds
To sit on their branches not without songs 
The birds would not recite in songs 
The morning poem to wake man 

All flags to half mast, except for red  
All the rainbow colors to be put away 
It is the season for black and red 
To be worn, it is the season for tears 

It is the season for men and women 
To sing sorrowful songs of poetry 
The birds the birds would not recite 
The morning poem to wake man 

He stayed up all night mourning 
And the women wallowing in pain  
For the loss of the inscriber who writes 
The songs of poetry the birds sing in the morning  

The darkness of man, the darkness of religion 
Has taken the voices of the birds to the grave 
So silent the birds have become, not reciting in songs 
The morning poem to wake man 

And the trees would not give a branch 
To be sat on, without the promise of the bird's song 
The inscriber of the bird's song is no more 
Religion has taken him away from us 

A moth without the lamp of light, the earth is silent today 
The winds will not blow protesting their sorrow 
The tree branch would not dance with the winds 
For the birds have lost their voice in Kofi Awoonor 

Rest In Peace....The inscriber of the bird's morning songs 
Killed by Al-Shabab in Kenya, all for nothing, nothing to stand for, nothing at all
and all the other victims in the shootings, like the birds have lost their voice

In Memory of 
Professor George Kofi Awoonor-Williams (A Poet)
( 13 /03/1935 - 21/09/2013)

Trotro Stories #11 Front Seat

I have become a graduate on the trotro ride
And so I moved up to the front seat

I realized most people avoid the front seat 
Yet others, have an affiliation like religion 

I mean, it is easier to hide in a trotro 
At the back, and easy to be spotted at the front 

I find it easier now, though with a willing price 
To be seated at the front and I am at easy if spotted

Being that I have to get down 
On an un designated place, to alight on routes home 

This though comes with its own politics 
To be privileged will be to sit on the outer side 

Not so if pushed between the driver and his gear
And the passenger with the window 

Then you have to find a sitting angle 
Sitting at the back becomes oh had I known 

Trotro stories #10 The dead fish

Details details, trotro 
Memories on smells that lingers 

A dead fish, a smoked fish 
An invasion of my nostril 

Must I be tortured through 
This journey home, I plead thee 

Squeezed on both sides 
Smell that engulf like physical approach 

Chocking on each breath I take 
Must I be tortured for my peswa 

Oh but who would be brave 
To vent a comment, a hero 

Come out of the cowardly stay 
And say something, say something 

Like must we suffer this torture 
Of lingering smell, dead fish, smoked fish 

Something odd that smell, so funny 
Invading my personal space 

My nightmarish voyage 
On the trotro with smell 

Trotro Stories #8 Trouble with the back seat

The back seat always feels right 
Not having to push or shove each stop by 

A post to be sat in, to the end of the journey 
The back seat always feels just right 

Until one has to alight just before the junction stop 
True you may say, true I would agree, true true then 

Bad idea I would agree, as well I would agree 
But it is done, rightly or wrongly it is done 

A jump off in traffic by the light 
In front of Ghana Telecom nearing Nkrumah circle 

Save me the run back up to cross the road 
The only option after the petrol station's stop 

Is to climb the foot bridge, a step at a time 
Overly crowded and steeply steep to climb 

The back seat always feels right 
Just not when I have to make a quick exit 

Stop mate, I draw his attention 
Can I alight here, just by the traffic light 

He looks, calculates position I am sat in 
Looks at the traffic light and goes, 

"not a chance, not a chance"

Mutombo Da Poet - I For Talk ft M3NSA

A spoken word  of culture, relationship, romance, troubles and a guy
trying his best to be honest about the way he feels

Mutombo Da Poet is at it again

Democracy, democrazy; let my vote count

When my words are asked in demand 
When my hands are requested on alliance 
When my legs are borrowed for support 

To walk this journey 
To stand this ground 
To pledge an alliance 

Where my stakes do count, thumbprint 
Where a queue means possible change 
Where my presence has effect, dominoes  

And the puppet masters need me now, to pull strings 
And I am made a king maker with cast 
And I am thus destiny onto them as will 

Will I know what to priorities 
Will I know what my interest are 
Will I be wise enough to know in essence 

That the table has turned, favored positions 
That the value is on me, precious 
That I am with vote, a commodity sort  for 

A bargaining chip, to state my need 
An upper hand on chess game, to win a post 
A trading ground, a barter trade, for fair trade my interest 

Or will I just follow party politics 
Waving flags as my interest pledge, banners barmy 
To say it is them against us, foolishly with protest 

Two brothers on opposing sides 
Who is to build our father's house 
To say it is them against us, foolishly on stands taken 

Following party politics, Montague against Capulet  
Let my vote count, so not to demonstrate craziness 
As mine democrazy, my interest is to be seen to as mine 

Who owns the dollhouse

I  just learnt of an important trend 
I just observed an underlining current 

Not that it matters, as it were, smoke screens 
But it matters most to a degree, as it were

Above the norm to be expected, as it were 
It really matters in circles, realms of the high 

Between the powers that be, strings to ropes 
And how the weathers play, as it were 

It matters most, when spotted 
And assigned a scrutiny, "assigned as it were" 

It warns one, in such subtle terms, as it were 
Larking with innocence pretend no physical form 

"I have got k9 teeth, a set full, dog shape, but I wouldn't bite 
Just for show, this is, to show and tell,  just so you know" 

Until that is, it is needed, as it were 
To show and tell, show and tell 

I just learnt of an important trend 
I just observed an underlining current 

I just realized we are in a puppet house, as it were 
With invisible strings being pulled on acts  

I just realized we are all puppets in play  
I just observed an important trend 

Strings on my shoulders 
Jerking my arms, pulling my legs 

I just waked up in a puppet house 
Surrounded by familiar faces with smile 

Yet all puppets in play, strings attached

Who owns the dollhouse,

Unveiling the smoke screen 
We live in a puppet house, a dollhouse 

Trotro stories;The premium rate #7

The third party driver
Today was different one might say

Upgraded though that is subjective
And balanced  on interpretation

Traffic is hectic at the best of times
Never mind the worst of times, regardless 

So on a commute we find ourselves
Not as a diss to my favoured voyager 

The sixteen seater trotro groove 
Call this one a brother, younger brother 

A friend may be, or a rival, or something closer 
Either way, not a sixteen seater 

Few in numbers means higher a charge 
Not sure if it is deserved, higher the charge 

But for commute it seems to run a lot quicker 
With the charge comes some privileges expected  

Like with a passenger, giving route direction  
Not this driver, god of the road 

He wanted none of that, not on his patch 
He would not stand for none of that

Stack in his ways and making one late 
This was me thinking I paid a premium rate 

Premium rate for express travel 
Yet he drives as though we are sitting in a sixteen seater  

The trotro stories: Throw down your gauntlet #6

To have angered a Greek god 
The god of voyager on tarmac asphalt  

None more infuriating to the driver 
In his office sat with his steering wheels  

Than the ones that for a brief moment 
Occupy space, two seats beside his throne 

To have engaged the Greek god 
In a tussle of words, not wise 

Have you no regard for the craft 
The art of voyage and the Greek god 

A period in time, as service rendered 
Customarily to get one on Aladdin's carpet  

To a place need be, for family or friends 
For the workers keep as required 

Why then anger a Greek god 
Tasked to carry you and life to a place in time 

Most if talk be done, would be by the mate 
A god none the less, though with patience to deal 

More akin to the nagging ungrateful qualities 
Of the mere humans they carriage to safety 

Through down your gauntlet, and step up 
This is a fight for honour 

To have angered a Greek god 
God of voyager, tarmac asphalt 

The trotro stories; Sweat comes easy #5

Sweat comes easy 
Sat queued in traffic in a trotro 

Jammed packed back to front 
Back to back like a factory run belt 

CO2 here produced in batches 
For each cough from the exhaust   

Hugging the outside lane constant  
So we going no where slow 

Everything moves in this said 
Bone shaker, constant with shake 

My neck constant with hydraulic posturing 
Like a wall gecko sat on a wall with nods 

Tiredness comes quick like possession 
Before destination reached 

The radio is loud breaking my ear drum 
Fighting with sound, I can't hear my thoughts 

This as the roller coaster 
For work commute is not funny 

The trotro stops I am to get down 
To allow another a passage out 

Call it courtesy; oh but here we go again 
Rudely another passenger grabs my seat 

This trotro journey feels so long today 
Thank God it is Friday for rest stops 

The trotro stories; Bleoo the boneshaker #4

Two can play that game, a tango
On the road with old knights, bleoo, bleoo 

The boss when challenged would respond 
Bleoo, bleoo and yet he would respond 

Slowly but surely, grace and trust to  
His old horse and carriage, bleoo, bleoo 

Ordinarily he says no word, galloping bleoo, bleoo 
He is with eyes set on the path ahead, bleoo 

Only to hold grudge if need be as often 
With the other gladiators on the road 

He will get me home safe as usual, bleoo 
He got me to the fields of earn the same 

He will get me home safe as usual, bleoo 
While in his buggy he is my knight 

To slay the dragons on the road with ease  
That obstruct my smooth passage home, bleoo 

Two can play that game and he is good at it 
Weaving through traffic with ease, bleoo, bleoo

The boss when challenged would respond 
And he will get me home safe, bleoo, bleoo 

No speedometers and speed counters 
To mark the pace we travel, bleoo, bleoo 

Destination is all that matters as snails we crawl 
Bleoo, bleoo and we are sure to get there 

The trotro stories; The naming rights #3

All trotros should have a name 
That is the tradition, naming rights 

"Family Is My Problem"

A name as a phrase long 
To be labeled at the back 

"You Lie Bad"

Every trotro should have a name 
And can only be called after pass 

"Who Is Free"

As most often, the favored   
Place of label is at the back 

"Thy Will Be Done"

Bible verses are often a preferred choice 
Philosophy follows suit 

"Trust God"

Some just pick what sits comfortably 
Or otherwise in their minds as label 

"Heaven's Gate No Bribe"

But all as a reflection of the owners 
Mantra, this is my call my motto  

"Observers Are Worried"

All trotros should be named 
So from a distance I can call each 

"Wuanu Peh Asem" 

By his name and expect a respond 
Though half the time they contracdict 

"Di Wo Fei Asem"

In what the naming says 
And the driver and his mates act 

"Who Knows"

Just like a person called mercy 
Who is far from merciful 

"Eye Asem oo hmm"

I guess that is just part of life 
But all trotros should be named 

"Love Is Expensive"

How else am I going to 
Hail each to my beckon call 

"Trotro Blues"

All trotros should be named 
As naming rights require 

"Wo Nyamesom Mponi" 

"Oh God Save Me"