The Ladybird's Songs

Don't wake me up from sleep 
To disturb the magic chime I hear 

Crimson dash of red wine 
Thirstily defined from a distance  

Senses eyes wide open on observation 
I conspire to the school of thought 

Of the alluring imploding beauty 
The red rose flower, bright on a sunny day 

Immersed in the rapture of emotions 
Sending observers sitting up straight 

To hear what sounds of music jazz 
Serenading melodies are sung with groove 

From the red lips of a sound-ful
Soulful angel singing harmony  

Pouts a bit, smiles a lot, eyes do too 
Graced with a wonderful spirit 

Don't wake me up from sleep 
I hear the ladybird's songs 

She is with that red colour bright 
I hear the ladybird's songs 

Don't wake me up from sleep 
To disturb the magic chime I hear 


In support of the: New Morning Arts Cafe' Theatre & Creative Centre 

EL - Turn the Lights Down (Official Video)

Okay another Ghanaian artist with a versatility to admire
With a 25 track album to match. Parental advice is given as a
caution, but nothing too explicit to the young adult and the young
at heart.

Enjoy the Music Video and get the album from the link given below
This would be a good buy.
http://elrepgh.bandcamp.com/album/something-else

M.anifest - suffer (good music from Ghana)

Blitz the Ambassador ft Corneille (Best I can) (Native Sun)

Enjoy and share

Music to my ear

Tingling sound of melody sang  

Sounds of sing sing song I hear 

Oh such beautiful music to my ear 

Etta James - At Last

In spoken word  Etta James at last

Life so long lived, so short lived 

How far we have come, in such a short time 

So few know, names of once legends 

Time belittles the mighty, it comes so fast 

In time, just in time, chipping away 

Life and time makes frail wholesome 

The strong that once stood invincible 

Ali, Ali, Ali, Ali, shades shadows of legends 

Etta James, oh dear Etta 

With voice to treasure 

A break through, a pioneer 

A sister to the act in the act 

Some souls should never frail 

For truly they stand as gems 

To the fabric of humanity 

Such earth anointed angels 

Should live longer than the average 

For they are hard to replace

Do not archive my deeds

And live once so popular

To the company of curb-webs

Shake Spare has been fortunate

Let me be so too, to share

What chalice he came upon to hold 

Do not throw me to the archives

I was once named a treasured legend

Do not let my work die with me

I was once a sister on the stage

I filled halls and had standing ovation

Do not let me go forgotten

Attribute me a legend to remember 

A life of precious treasure lived

Oh dear Etta James, Etta dear, rest in peace

Jittery getters

What am I to ceremonies  
If I start to every bit objectify 
On every occasion, with a trumpet 


Lay out carpets in Moroccan red 
And be seen sat in a tuxedo 
Have a banquet  with open doors  


And have the Queen here sat at present 
Yea, tables laid, chandeliers hung 
And have me host this, high on calender 


On ceremony with jittery getters 
Unceremoniously with shivers 
All to have just stood in front of toothless crowds


And make this here a brief presentation 
To the who of not, he is not with bite 
Of who is who, sat here watching 


What am I to ceremonies 
If I start to every bit objectify 
On every occasion with a trumpet 

My Joyful Day

I will silence the winds 
And have the trees stop their dance 
Until called upon to do so 

I will call out the clouds 
And say to them, this day 
Just this day, spare me your rain 


And the grass will know to keep to a height 
We greed on, upon a gentleman's handshake  
Not too high a' not too short, just perfect in trim 


The sea will calm their rattle 
The dolphins will synchronise their jumps 
The salmons will not yet go red 


I will have the sun come out  
And the birds will line in choir, well tuned 
Ready and willing to sing at a moments notice 


And the sky will give me 
Its bluesiest of colour so picture perfect 
For ceremonial  me, to sit in adore   


To name this day 
My joyful day, oh what a day 
To have this day be  

Sown Alive

Sown alive in a window  
Behind plants that gather form  
They climb to surround, they engulfed her soul    


She sat there naked in cradle 
Her eyes engaged, glowing psychedelic 
Embrace to enchant, deep contemplation  


Her thoughts capture distance, of escape 
Clouds, shape formers signals a paradigm change 
They conjure rainbow twinkle, then contradicts  


Beauty that calls out, the allure of seduction 
Sent men and women on their knees with delight 
To worship her voice of Venus 


Like the green leaves that surrounds
She held life full, radiant, gifted 
Artistic loving, enigma of a kind, kindly 


But she was sown alive 
Still with life, so much left in her 
She was sown alive 


Sometimes the winds carry her singing voice 
Thoughts of her comes to mind with twinkles of melody 
And in that instant she takes life's form again 


Long enough until the music stops 
Long enough to delight to celebrate her life
Long enough in 3 minutes while her songs play 

Dancing Chair

I am a good man, so I put my cards on the table 

Pick one and name as yours, label 

Lovely, dressed with finesse make it an A, A’s 

Because is with (A) as thus I see you 

You already with Queens from genesis  

The way you were born, made to be, the way you are 

I  will surround you with chairs, in dancing chairs 

And less of the competition, when the music stops 

Pick one, feel free with patience and take a sit 

The fog clears, when one nears you 

In the eye of the storm 

You are centred with piece, lovely 

So pick a music, dance with its rhythm 

Enjoy the patience of the sounds it offers 

The sanctity of the ocean breeze 

The music would not stop until you do, I promise 

The chairs will not be occupied until you do  

And the fog will always make way in your presence  

I will put my cards on the table, pick one 

I promise I would not look

But make it A(s), Lovely 

Dancing to the Beat

Vibrant sounds echoes from distance

Hibernated energy awaken in the souls of man

Dance brings movements, celebrated hour

I beg not to be labelled

I beg not to be labelled 

I beg not to be taught this  

Be labelled and presented as a form 

Of a form, in a form 

I  beg not  to be taught this  

Essence, drained of blood and of life 

Of a form, in a form
On the butcher's table, drunk by the critics  

Essence, drained of blood and of life

Drunk by the critics, without feel
On the butchers table, drunk by the critics
Boxed and presented in genre of pigeon holes 

Drunk by the critics, without feel
I beg not to be labelled 

Boxed and presented in genre of pigeon holes
And claim to know where my thoughts lie 

I beg not to be labelled, 
Not to be read, by those without soul  

And claim to know where my thoughts lie
They will taint my handy work  

Not to be read, by those without soul

Emotions that burst out in knowing, feeling 

They will taint my handy work
So I beg not to be labelled, by the critics

Emotions that burst out in knowing, feeling

A connection no man can explain 

So I beg not to be labelled, by the critics
No, not even I can,  be allowed to, label

A connection no man can explain 

Presume to know your interpretation

No, not even I can, be allowed to, label  
This is my gift to your kind 

Presume to know your interpretation
But to be felt and shared, loved  

This is my gift to your kind
To understand with no need on emphasis 

But to be felt and shared 

So I beg not to be labelled  

To understand with no need on emphasis 

Who spats out false prophecy 


So I beg not to be labelled 

Of knowing, by the soulless 
Who spats out false prophecy
I beg not to be labelled

The Rich Man

You know, some people say 
The way I act, its just like a rich man      
They say the way, I walk     
I talk, its just like a rich man     


So then I must be rich   
I am a rich, rich, rich, Mr rich man  
They say the way I laugh surely    
Just like a rich man     


So then I am a rich man, I must be  
But then my bank manager frowns   
W' he sees me, clocks ticks slowly in his eyes, at my presence   
Not the fat cat he hoped for, he prefers to see   

Somebody go tell him, with a firm grip on awakening 
Explain the confusion, with authority and clarification  
That I am a rich man, I am rich  
Indeed I am a rich man, I am seriously rich


For my content made as in, me as a being, rich  
Because I live a rich life, full 
Banking smiles around  all day, with joy
In my portfolio of deeds done, all day with warmth 


Happiness in stocks take  
Return in harvest, investment of smiles, kindness
I am joy, happiness runs in my blood veins 
That is why some people say  


Some people say, the way I act   
Oh, its just like a rich man 
I am rich, rich, richness is made of me 
So call me, Mr rich man, I am rich 


And I like to spread it  all around 
Call me the philanthropist, free giving 
Sharing my wealth, like rain on drought land
I am so rich, rich, rich, I say 


That is why 
The way I walk, I talk, I smile 
Oh, just like a rich man
Call me, Mr rich man, richie rich

Talking Drums, Being Human

I am a man about with words,
Sometimes you may be right to think
The English dictionary resides in my head  


Making connections seamlessly  
Like the weave of tapestry effortlessly
I am a man about with words  


If I was to be a priest, blessed to preach  
Hallelujah to my last word sentence we speak
One of those charismatic priest 


I would have had a mega church  
To animate my actions and words on stages  
I am a man about with words  


A poet no less  
Self proclaimed  as thus  
For I am a man about with words  


Politician with a flair
I am to wow the crowd
I am a man about with words


Talking drums will mimics my verses 
Sending sound waves across the landscape
Announcing, there is a man about w' words


Philosophy will carry a message in abstract The wise excited of it's parable, 
While others ponder over meaning. 


But some times I just stammer on "the" 
Being tongue tied, like a dream of nightmare 
I am a man about with words  


Still only human
When the talking drums go silent
With words "slipping through my fingers"


I am a man about with words
Being human, talking drums
I am a man about with words

Tumi and the Volume - Signs

I call this a discovery, diamond from South-Africa,
every song I heard from this guys was worth  the listen
with modern hip hop so lost, in the commercial take

and club tunes the only music making inroads,
 this again is a refreshing find.

I will attribute their work to the likes of
Talib Kweli, Mos Def and Lupe Fiasco

It is relevant and for the likes
 who are into spoken word

will find this particularly interesting,
every one else will just enjoy the quality here

RIP Gil Scott-Heron

Me and the Devil

The Revolution Shall not be televised

Johannesburg