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

The Great Debate

It was always going to be
Just a matter of time

Truly if the stars are aligned
And the sun is our candle in the dark

Like which side of the roll
Is the right path, this is important

To say the earth is flat
And not round, am told it is still debatable

Rapper B.O.B says it so
He stands by it.

John deGrasse has his work
Cut out for him, "do I really"

Frustrated for having to argue
The point all over again

Synopsis and discoveries
Sensation and conspiracy theories

The Jester is now considered
The most famous in society

And in today's society
Fame is attributed to essence

Blanket relevance
The masses give credence

And we are all left dumb founded
Blue pills or red pills

The Professor and the jester
Debating on weather the earth is flat or round

Washing Lines

This is when I put everything on the line
And I pray it dries out just so
I can get something good to wear.

Memories eating away at the heart
Like a flesh eating bug
With no hold back on feast

Sponge foam, heavy like a good heart
Absorbing all the tears of pain
That rains from sorrow and joy
Reminiscing on long old memories had

Beautiful roses blossom
So bright from spring to summer
Weathering away, each petals
At a time dropping like rain drops in fall

Guide the last of the candle light
For when it is gone, it is gone for good
Becoming a ghost on replay fading
And no add ons to have

My feet has taken many steps
Into many lives and back
I have spread my self thin
Leaving behind a piece of me
In each door way I walked through

Some familiar names delude me
Though I am left with events
That they were a part of to remember
Half memories on flash back

On blurred roads
We travelled many a times
As routine routes taken
Watching the sunset

I do try but these names
Have long faded in my memory
Empty they remain
Gaps in between stories

It is a good thing,
Smiles are not like names
They keep me sane with glimpse
Even through the heavy heart days

I wonder how many
Remember me by name
I wish they would be the same ones
I do remember too

For without that
What value in essence
Is in the memories we hold
So dear as treasures to keep

Remember me
In all the four seasons
Especially in winter and fall
The coldest of the night

And I promise I will try
Very hard, my very best
To remember you too
That I promise an oath I swear

And sometimes it hits me hard
A father I am indeed a father I am
A role I played with all my heart
And all my love, still with all my love

An unended sentence with .............
Space left in its way, brakes in line
I am desperate to tell the youth
To slow down, age caches up so quick

I pray I do better in patience
With love this time,
All these lessons must account
For something in the end.

And not just pain
Hanged on washing lines
Praying it dries out just so
I can get something good to wear

#life
#philosophy
#love #art #poetry 

Last Night's Dream

                    

Angles protruding at the edge of reasoning
I was told to climb up the mountain
The wise man lives there

Dreams are explained by him
W' leaves mashed up a' placed in a cup
To drink and be told of your future

The clouds will open up to the sea blue sky
So we can watch the birds fly in formation
Following the sunset for sleep in the night

In the morning they will descend
The trees, mountains and hills, down the valley
In search of food or tweak to build t' nest home

Do birds a' mammals h' to deal w' conflicting issues
Family worries and sibling rivalry like humans
Do they h' to deal w' bad blood a' family pressures

T' are wet leaves left at the bottom of the cup
Looks like it is time for the old wise man
To interpret last night's dream

Picture by Salvador Dali

An Anarchist Call Card

I wonder who pulls the anarchist's strings
We all serve a higher purpose, am told

And the politicians of the day 
Well, are not who I worry about for now 

We all know their ways are wrong 
As are their motivations on corrupt virtues 

Though for the ignorance and arrogance 
Of t' rebels with false strength, I am left at a loss 

(influential groups none ever so independent, 
tied to their source of finance ) I cannot overlook.

Confused as to who is behind the curtains
Pulling their strings on agenda, they gather 

Did we not see Libya fall to the hands
Of the anarchist, in the Arab spring

Only to become a failed state
Where no man, woman or child is safe

From the cut throat knives of the ISIS
Iraq and Syria stand as hostage, ransom is t' dead

Gaddafi and Saddam Hussien's ghost that haunt
Playing peeka boo with Casper the friendly ghost

To watch our confused and driven youth
Run from home to become our worse nightmare

Jihad John with an accent so familiar
Cutting heads like it is a fun day in the park

If the blind leads the blind, blindfolded
What good is the cries of another blind man 

Insisting on leading the blinded sheep. 
You fool, #Philosophy #politics #life 

I wonder who pulls the anarchist's strings
Are we ever so prepared for their rule.

On Church Grounds

The more churches I see
The more morally corrupt
Society seems to be

A few good men left
Quickly turning into
No  good men in this town

Is it so cheap now to confess
And have our sins forgiven
I ask

Void is flagellation
As a sign of penance to give
#philosophy #life #society #religion

Bless me father for I have sinned
Replaced with cash and carry
Blessing and sins on barter trade

The richest is the most holiest
And highly morally corrupt
Blurred lines all in the grey

Schematics
No one is looking that close
To see blemish on white canvas

It is all clock works
Days into night
ORANGE.

Tribal Wars

Tribal wars
Drums heard from a distance  

Language of another 
Tribal marks, the enemy is near  

An enemy, for you are different 
By tongue and language 

Tribal wars 
Skin color so deep 

Hair and eyes, size 
Sentiment of the paranoia 

Fear from old folktales 
They eat babes alive, alive I say 

I will bring down your house 
I will seize your love 

And bury you as an enemy 
For we are from different clans 

Tribal wars 
Tribal wars 

But save me when I am on my knees 
And I will be grateful 

It would be a deed as humanity 
And I will be grateful 

So long as you do not enter my house 
And be friends with my kind 

A stranger will be more welcome 
Than a neighbor

In my house, men from foreign lands we welcome 
But not you; tribal wars, tribal wars a neighbor 

Who stands to gain 
From insistence on valuing our differences 

History says we were once brothers 
History says we are sworn enemies 

Tribal wars 
Tribal wars 

Who is speaking my language 
Who's am I speaking 

Eyes, and size 
Skin color so deep 

Tribal wars 

The money issue; how rich are you

What is money
First put yours away 
Before I succeed in talking you 
Out of it, I might just do that, succeed  

What is money  
Such role play that stems as blood 
Running through our veins in capitalism 
Green eye monsters as slaves to its cause 

What is the value of money 
How do we define money 
Wealth as a subject of money, money. money 
What would you do for money, money, money 

Old friends some as new 
But all the same, made this acclamation 
I would give everything away for money 
For what is happiness without wealth and glamour 

So I ask, what is money, what is money 
Money, money, money 
Its a rich man's world they say
They sing and throw feast to celebrate 

Money is the compensation 
Event for time spent my time bought 
Anything worth our time in value 
We do not get compensated for, we get rewarded with 

Love, family, friendship 
And the list goes on and on and on 
For value is defined as essence 
And money has no essence only as a prelude  

If I am to break up a relationship
Friendship or for love any that matters 
The worse aspect always to me 
Is the time spent in making the memories 

Wasted memories. corrupted memories 
If by virtue of the broken chain 
I would have to do without such memories 
Which clogs up my memory banks 

This is why we are never satisfied 
With what we earn, insatiable appetite 
Unless we are passionate about 
What work we do 

And the reward is from that satisfaction 
Money is a compensation event 
Which in itself is a substitute compromise  
As a concession no compromise is as the true value 

Money is a means, through 
Passage path we walk on to journey 
Not an end, a facilitator to open doors  
Not the accomplishment never the accomplishment 

The very rich turn to philanthropy 
To attain a sense of true value 
Not compensated value 
To get that pure joy of soul satisfaction 

What is money again 
It is giving to Caesar what is Caesars 
But knowing Caesar is only getting a share 
After the fact, not as the fact 

Do not be a slave to the money man 
Follow the passion in you with dedication and strive  
And money would come as a by-product 
After the fact, being of Caesar's make 

Wealth and value is not money 
It is the uncompromising experience 
Of reward that satisfies the soul 
How rich are you 

What is money 
First put yours away 
Before I succeed in talking you out of it 
I might just do that succeed 

Mark 8:36 
What good is it for someone 
to gain the world 
yet forfeit his soul 

The puppet house

Knock knock  
Who lives in the puppet's house 

There are no institutions or organisations 
Be it religion or government 

Strong and powerful enough 
To fight or oppress us 

If we realise that, all there is 
Is greedy, corrupt and selfish individuals 

Working as one in human establishments 
Given resources, directly or indirectly financed by us 

And elaborate acronyms to match  
 (NSA, CIA, FBI, al-Qaeda, Boko haram) 

All engineered to scare the masses 
They are never more in numbers 

Than the oppressed majority 
Hiding from fear, of false assumptions  

Enlightenment is a realisation 
A realisation is an awakening 

An awakening is the revolution  
Are you still hiding from fear  

Knock knock 
Who lives in the puppet's house 

Who lives in the puppet's house 
Singing "kombaya my lord is coming" 

Truth Pill

Few people are allowed to live on this earth 
Passport absent  "to be found in the Amazon"

Without being enslaved, to be defined in worth 
By their monetary value, what is your worth 

As a key to social climb and recognition
It is society's weakness, and an addiction 

That the value of our essence and achievements
Our level of respect and honor to be attributed with 

Has to be defined as a baseline in monetary terms
This is the death nail of moral and civilisation 

And the rising worship like religion 
Of vanity and decadence

The world is dying 
And this is a truth pill, swallow it 

The last laugh

There are no right or wrong answers in this realm 
Don't be fooled, the world is too complex 
For such simplicity and claims of utopia 

It is always with a plus or minus 
To a significant figure room for variance 
Never an exact science 

The good will die young at this rate 
Preaching with novice ideologies 
Making disturbed noise, sounds to wake the beast 

Life is largely grey and in varied shades 
There are only consequences as price to pay 
IOU will be paid, no debt collector forgives a debt 

The good the bad the ugly is you 
Looking in the mirror, at yourself  
Thus me myself and I, as a school of thought 

Speak no evil (the good) 
See no evil (the bad) 
Hear no evil (the ugly) 

In all things, in all things just be aware 
Of the price and be prepared to pay 
As per consequence demand, no excuses 

Do  not nag about it and bore the rest 
Waiting in line to take up the baton 
It would be foolish to do so, angering the gods 

This is the definition of adulthood, life. 
Set out clear, without any pretty colors
Covering the realities of battle grounds 

In the end, time makes all things irrelevant 
Ask the dead about their wealth 
And see who has the last laugh

Fresh as new

Bright, fresh as new stands 

The birth of a new day, green 

Seeds germinating 

Calling the bluff of botch

Calling the bluff of botch's threats 
I dare, I dare to, ha ha ha ha, I do dare 

To dare a stand on one's own two feet 
To jump off ships and ride the waves 

Swimming to shore, with each stride hold 
Can one sweat while swimming I wonder 

I saw a man doing just that, deep sea 
And I wondered if the sea would accept 

His salty sweat, if that would increase 
The sea level, and flood a small island 

Already endangered by global warming 
Sinking like the lost city of Atlantis  

Ok ok ok, back to being serious 
I have thrown down my gauntlet  

Called out miscarriage and his men 
Sent words home, I would be back before dawn 

So now lets fight, roll up your sleeves 
Welcome in sweat and blood 

I have called your bluff, you call mine 
A date set with destiny lets tango 

Lets tango to the beats and the rhythm 
I will sweat and add to the sea's level too

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"

The Money Factory

Count to ten on your fingers, air bubbles 
And each time you count 

A finger goes missing 
Like the count down of time 

What do you value more, breaths?
A finger? a finger? just a finger?

I know a girl that works 
In the money factory, if you do want links 

She is quite good you know 
A magician with funds, abracadabra 

Changing dollars into pounds 
And all the others comes easy 

I call her the key holder 
As many that are secretly spread around town 

In unassuming shops, the key holders 
Washing currency into different forms 

If all we chase is a piece of paper 
As it is, don't argue with me boi 

To kill for, to love for, drowned, submerged  
To hate for and to save, "just on occasion" 

Did we move forward or backwards 
In our essence to cheap-in our lives 

Bought with a piece of paper 
Thin on value, burns as easy, float as dead 

To kill for, kill kill kill 
Kill with greed, kill kill kill, murder 

Count to ten on your fingers, hold your breath 
And each time you count 

A finger goes missing 
Like the count down of time 

What do you value more in life 
A finger? a finger? really just a finger? 

I know a girl who works in the money factory 

So humble she is and nice as that, a key holder 

Did someone just drown here 
Floating on water with empty worth 

I see a bag of paper, sat as money 
Unattended looking for the next victim  

The money factory, the money factory
Life in the money factory  

Losing an arm

Are there rules in this world 
That say an enemy is an enemy  

But a friend mighty just be the same 
I fear age and time, circumstances 

Turn more friends to the dark side 
To the dark side of desire 

Greed has an eye so green it radiates 
It raptures the serenity of our co-existence 

How can I afford a trust so dear 
To allow a weakness a' vulnerability into my realm

To open up my house to 
Alibaba and the 40 thieves  

Even uncle Sam has now adopted 
A sense of paranoia, best if I know 

Best if I know what you are thinking 
"Me old friend", and not by your own admission 

Trust is obsolete to the status quo 
Who needs burn marks to affirm suspicions  

I might have to strip search you 
And prod your mind, add a lie detector test 

Just to be sure I know your intentions
And even with that I would not call it trust 

I appreciate the honesty of an enemy 
The trust of his/her intentions so pure 

Oh but a friend brings worrying thoughts 
Dandelions of would he stub me would he not 

Who killed Caesar rings bills of trauma  
No enemy known got so close to Rome 

Losing friends, making enemies 
Living  happily ever after, don't sweat it 

Medusa's Mind Games

I have not cried for so long, "dried out wells" 
I fear I would not know how to wipe my own tears 

I have not laughed for so long, "locked up jaw" 
I fear I would no longer know how to smile again 

I have not danced for so long, "cobwebbed legs"  
I fear I have developed two left feet tripling on the floor  

I have not jumped for so long, "concrete grounded" 
I fear when I squat I would not make it up stack midway 

I have not dreamt for so long, "empty visions"  
I fear I would not find my way back if I do venture 

I have not tried learning how to swim for so long 
I fear I would drown if I try to, "a fish out of water"

I have not loved for so long "Missing hearts"
I fear I would break the pulsing vase from touch 

Between all that, each day I wake "ticking clocks"
Each day I live, each day I am as I am no other 

Each day I am and I do get on, just fine "the status qua" 
Only when I think such thoughts am I weakened 

Only when I look into the eyes of the mind "distorted mirrors"
Medusa of thoughts am I with fear, I fear I would, but not me 

The third dimension and me

I have lived through time and space 
And between space in quantum aligned span 

Jumping hoops, strings, circle  
Naked I come, make me human 

I have traveled to distant lands 
Through passage paths into alternate universe 

I have had many lovers, Hmmm counting down 
We made plans for many different dreams 

Charting a course of time travel, leaps and frogs 
Into the future like road maps to paradise  

I have been transformed into many beings 
Of characters played each with its own course 

Each fit for the time duration given, expired cards 
Of need be, like a jigsaw puzzle and game play  

I have traveled through space and time continuum 
Numerous dimensions of  my existence on sequence play 

Has confused the soothsayer with surrealism  
Scratching her head perplexed of illusions seen  

Looking into my future to attest as facts 
With binnacles to say what would become of me 

Subtle breeze  changes the winds on my course travel  
A thousand possible outcomes and I am still being defined 

I am a travelling man through time and space adjustment 
And space aligned, flaunting the parable of the parallel universe 

And when I am no more then finally then I would be truly defined 
By historians after my last breath, after the fact 

The miss-understanding of Pareto

Pareto's principle stands
And all that know appreciate its value
Truly as it states, life follows I follow 
A 20-80 rule of participation and return

Ok back to basics, elementary
I may be putting the carriage in-front of the horse here
So allow me to start from the beginning a dot on plain sheet
A discovery of one of the golden rules of nature

Pareto states that we spend 20% of our time
In achieving 80% of the work to be done
And this is true, a blue print of formation
Nature's rule 101 as we proceed 

This principle can be interpreted in all sorts
Of situations, from relationship to work
20% time spent cuddling a love one, romance
Makes up some of the 80% of what relationship is about

Though this leaves us with 80% of the time
For 20% of the work left to be done
And most would think, well now
More time for R&R or procrastination 

But the most essential bit of the work
Lies in the 20% of the work left to be done
I call this the fine tuning stage, adjusting to fit
A correlation, synchronization, the final polish

This 20% of activity, believe me  
Needs all the 80% of the time left and more
If it is an essay being written 20%
Is the editing work to correct any mistakes

If it is a house being built 20%
Is the final finish of tweaking
The stage of wearing a blue bag on the shoe
When walking around the house

The 20% is the face value 
Which we as humans hold very dear 
The attentions to details 
Adjusting the mirror on the wall 

The value of the whole product 
Is set in the 20% of the activity left 
Without which appreciation of the work
Done would not be granted 

This is what I call the misunderstanding 
Of the Pareto's principle 
Quoting the 20 - 80 rule 
Is misleading without an appreciation 

Of what the 80 -20 swing of opposite ends 
The purpose and value of my appreciation 
Of what the car looks like 
Before considering its functionality. 

Note: My editor does the 20% of the work on this page 
Bear with me she would get round to any typos 

The Hunger Game

We sat in the living room in Dansoman 
A suburb of Accra, curtains all drawn down
To keep the uninvited happy sunny face, locked out 
This was no a time for jokes or playful games 

Us young and worrying 
If we worried as kids 
Then mother must have had heavy 
The weight of the world on her shoulders 

To carry the love and protection 
Of her four kids like mother hen 
With no corn harvest to pick on 
Cracked dry was the land, infested with hunger 

Rationing was an art work 
No one was above size ten to flaunt 
And ten would have been fat with affluence 
Or privileged with mystery of gain, mystery of gain 

Early sleep, to wake early at 4 am on queue lines 
Long for the water that cooked the kenkey 
To have the kenkey was a privilege so few
Could afford, if luck had them reach there in time 

Rawlings chain was the jewelry of the neck bone exposed 
Both the young and old wore to show and tell 
As statements of the state of affairs in the country 
Yellow corn and wheat was what was known 

Gari should be made a national treasure in Ghana 
Beans was all the protein one could get 
We hunted the fruit trees to make up the difference 
Hunger always asked his stomach to be belly fully paid 

We became expert tree climbers 
Hanging on the last branch a stretch 
To harvest and pull the bounty it held 
There are tricks to these things 

Ways of getting around climb 
If you know how to throw on targets 
And be quick to get your harvest 
Before eagle eyes that hover gains ground 

This was the hunger game, not Hollywood  
Script with fancy actors pretending to starve
With luxury trailer caravans to return to 
After the director shouts, cut! its a wrap 

We lived in the pulled down curtain era 
Of the 80's where the sun came out 
But for energy preservation of the little food ate 
The kids were not seen out playing 

We played the hunger game in the 80's 
Before today's fast food joints and wasted resources 
I wonder with the world population inflating so fast 
Would we be playing the hunger game again 

In this generation or the next, who is to tell 
Global village it seems brings global consumerism 
And global warming follows suit, global troubles 
Will we be playing the hunger game again so soon 

Who holds the keys to the farmhouse door 
Will it stay opened or locked by the owner to privilege a few 
Is there enough food in storage for tomorrow's demand 
Who holds the keys to the farmhouse, is this the hunger game 

The hunger game.