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;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 

My Bird's Flight

Boarders cutting across webscape are made void

Where commentary is made for  free surf 
But with the tender hooks held of what is known 

After freedom is given, we still opt for safe grounds

My locality is still my locality regardless
But I have been to many foreign lands before

On Google Street maps, oh and few islands dotted

On the ocean breeze as paradise set in Bali
With coconut a’ white sands, I have seen the Caribbean

I have been to Alaska before, as cold as shiver

And with polar bears and Eskimos
I have sat on a sledge to slide, glide the white snow

But more done usual on surfs my surf spots

Are always somewhere nearby on the grid, Bristol
Like Africa the savannah, so familiar in looks to relate
 
With Google, street view eye, to give bird eye view
My home and places I have visited in person before
Are always strangly the places I frequent most

Like a bird with recurrent visits
To places well known, free but with tender hooks held
As familiar of what is known, as safe grounds

A Country Called Wales

I lost my way on a hitch hikers guide strolling 
Through the valleys of Wales to Pen castle and beyond 


Where signages change in wording  just past the seven bridge 
None the wiser another country I found myself  roaming 


No ceremonial gestures to announce my arrival 
Into this new world of enigma unknown heritage to be found 


Cymru a word pronounced pre-announced 
As the welsh of natives sang their anthem loud 


Comes Tom Jones, Charlotte Church's angel voice 
And the male voice choir echoing the land 


Miners of coal fire, on the land of the red dragon 
On flags of flames they soar, Wales of Cymru 

A trip in Ghana

Why would one not opt for a flight 
A half an hour journey of  flight to the garden city 
And rather long it on four, such hours long to Kumasi 


Such hours long, with evidence left of falls  
By past pilgrims who came before thee 
And fell by the road side shy of destinations.  


Is time not of essence, to value its count  
This far long to be given so generously out 
And falls of old sergeants long before reach 


Is  time not relative to cost, relevant 
Is cost, what accounts for time on queue?
Or is life preservation not to be the ultimate sway 


Yet for the country side views to be seen, Kwahu 
Some with flight jump on glide of mountains past 
For the zig zag, and steep hills roads to be crossed 


Some stops, on stop ways to refresh 
Replenish and encounter with surprise 
Others on journey voyagers of the course 


To share a story with a stranger on rest stops 
And say I will meet you there, where jokers walk 
Under festive grounds, I will meet you there 


In the company of friends we keep 
And the stories we share and laughters on journey 
And the quick stops for tender sensitive stomachs 


This would be as an emergency on drama
To form part of the jovial tales we tell 
When we talk of the time we voyaged  on an adventure


I guess this is why one would not opt 
On choices, options for a flight 
A half an hour, on journeys flight  

On road trips in Ghana, crossing 
From Accra to the east, the west and the north 
From the south in chase of the colorful festive celebrations 


Picture by: Mariemcc

Keta by the sea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Road maps, Accra to Kumasi

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

In Clues Left

A flag, a dog, poppy as flower on remembrance, a' pop music 
Not much to say about the fish and chips  
A dynasty,  grade one, grade two, listed buildings 


Lighthouse, Angel of the north, Stonehenge 
Not much else to say 
About the narrow streets  


A spinning wheel named an eye of a city
Parks, museums, pubs, cottages 
Galleries, castles and cathedrals 


A union of reserved feelings 
Not close to friendship "civilised, or so it is said to be"
But it will suffice on forced smiles  


For the image needed to portray 
Put the rest down to politics
North, south divided not much else to say 


Not much else to say about the weather 
It rains, no it pours, and holds unpredictability  
No it drenches in summer, not much else to say


But God save the "******"
And whoever comes after "keep calm and carry on"
Bacon on breakfast, baked beans with eggs, tea! 


Not wanting to give too much away
Like too much away, already given 
Said enough, in too much said 


And if I am to ask, on clue  
Pick a town a city or a place 
Best  to suit descriptions above, what would it be  


Free fish and chips 
If you did get it right, for getting it right  
A trip of a life time, if you did get it right 

Taking A Swipe

Taking a swipe  
At society  
At religion 
At politics 
At the establishment  


You see, it's not like, 
I am trying to take a swipe 
Just taking a swipe  
And it follows to digest  


I read the history of grounds that stand 
With the black rock to hold 
I read the history, of how religion was born 
That paganism is the oldest of them all 


To have Christianity and Islam  
Hold to gratitude  less of what is needed  
T' figureheads  back-bones "women" of strong men  
The very pillars of genesis in faith 


I read the history of ground zero 
And the symbol of the "stone "
I read the set-up of beginning, start up
And who it represented  in mixed fellowships  


I read about the philosophy  
They hold or once did 
To open up to the world around them 
The peace in messages, harmony they preach  


Not like I am trying to 
Take a swipe
Just taking a swipe 


Not today, with fortresses built 
From Rome to Mecca, to Jerusalem and beyond 
Where those without common share, in beliefs 
Of faith are blocked from entry's access  


Not like I am trying to take a swipe 
Just taking a swipe,
In doing so, in doing so


Are we not to love thy neighbour 
Why close doors and lock with hatred 
In keeping thy neighbour out 


Left cold at the mercy of wickedness 
In "I don't want to know", as a philosophy 
I am really now just taking a swipe, swipe, swipe  


Taking a swipe 


At the establishment
At society, 
At religion
At politics 
And all above 

My Train Journey

I woke this morning bright 
In a warm sunny room in Kecskemet 
This was nice, nice I tell you


Packed my bags after a week stay in Hungary 
And headed to the train station, 
This was going to be my mood of saddle 


Travelled away from my rest bite, 
On a train, tracks he lay
He blows his horn, to announce his coming,  


Past the trees into the sky that lay 
He appears, blowing his horn 
To announce his coming 


First class was all but taken 
In seats,  designated for luxury travel
Bought on priority request 


I stood with luggage between my legs  
Window peeping for sight seeing 
The country side, provides view so perfect 


On this train I saw more of the country  
Hungary had to offer, in hidden treasures landscape   
Farms and houses with their own stories to tell  


I made my own stories to tell 
Flipping through towns  and country side passed by  
Sat on the train from Kecskemet to Budapest 


Jumped off, to the horn that blew
For stops, the train driver at my destination  reached
Another horn blow sent the train onwards without me 


Bye I said to the beautiful country
And the train that brought me here in travels 
Thanks I say for a beautiful journey you gave me

Talking Wild Turkey

Talking turkey, bridging the gap   
I  stumbled upon a man in the woods  
"Turkey brother", he talks turkey   


Oh just the right man to ask, what came first  
The turkey or the egg, he talks turkey  
Seriously what came first   


As I sat intense drawn into   
The life of the turkey family   
Humour me, come lets journey on discovery  


I started believing  
What the turkey man was saying, he talks turkey   
Hold on before jumping to judge quick, analyse 


Slave of skeptical-ism  
Eager to dismiss rendition 
For comfort of non-believers, "have faith man" 


It could have just been 
A camera trick, I know
But so well played to punters watch 


He mothered them before hatch, talking turkey    
And they opened another world to him
Like the blind seeing for the first time 


Where turkeys became 
Intelligent and emotional from observation  
With societal interactions and characters 


With other wild life around, they all talked turkey 
It was as if the garden of Eden as biblically stated  
Was never lost, just closed off to humanity 


I felt so humble and empty 
On realization we lived blind, not talking turkey 
To our existence, always chasing tomorrow 

Brizz Bristol

On an island in the west country,..
In the Queen's land, where Black-beard,..
Once played on, as a young child..

And called his home, among the contours...
Chained men and tobaccos..
Once brought fortune lust..

Bridges were built, and train tracks laid..
By the man Brunel, who wore as long a hat..
Ships and cathedrals, hippodrome and colston halls ..

Bansky's graffiti;
Treasured marks on walls to display..
And stone-henge laid a stone throw away..

Roman baths, in nearby Bath..
And underground passage, of tunnels laid..
For walks, wine cellars and rivers paths, ..

Horse mountain and Welsh borders..
Sat not far away on looks
If adventure should take you a day trip
 
St. Pauls carnival, harbour festivals..
Balloon festival and beer festivals
Kite festivals down at ashton gates..

And Glastonbury;
Oh the biggest of its kind, in festival stands ..
Not in too far, a distance away to reach..

But for one thing, the one thing
That makes Brizz so special..
Would be sanctuary, it provides for lost souls..

This here laid land, a place like home..
Gulliver did be so proud, to call his home..
Away from home, as I do, away from home..