Democracy shall surely be our dance
To the tune of Ghana's bloody past
Lyrics written with the pain and pride
The toils and oft freedom forever cries
And this call to hope, we never deride
The battle-line drawn and the trigger pulled
All poli-tricksters should take their guard
Against the Kokromoti-esm thumb combat
Ghana is the honey, just no money
Oh yes! but in the poli-tricksters pocket
I find the key to the golden symphony
The chord never played on stage
So now, we know how to dance
Even when the music is so baaaaad...
By: Ezekiel A. Johnson
In response to Nana Frema Busia's poem “Ghana sweet oo”
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
My Ekua
By Brother Biko
Two most beautiful women in the world
My one and only ekua and the rest
Two most beautiful women ever made
My lovely ekua is the very best
Ekua never passed thru varsity
But she holds an enviable love degree
Ekua is bright smart conscious courteous
She care less about church yet she’s righteous
Ekua is neither rude nor arrogant
She’s responsible not extravagant
Ekua is sweet sweeter than berries
She’s mindful of her thank yous and sorrys
Ekua knows why she has ears and a mouth
She don’t let me say enough is enough
I don’t have a cause to fear or doubt her
We belong to each other she’s aware
Ekua is her own standard of beauty
She don’t covet an European identity
A beauty in the truest sense of the word
Not the type to let a man lose his head
Ekua never wears perm wig lipstick
She don’t respond to pig tags like bitch chick
Ekua knows her rights and also her limits
No matter what we shall not call it quits
For ekua my heart always sings a song
A d ay without her is like a year long
Better to spend time away from my life
Than spend days away from my future wife
Whenever she’s talking I am all ears
Her voice kills my pains and towels my tears
I am not complete without my ekua
I need her today next and forever
I Speak of A man
By Nii Lantey
In the name of art history
By way of poetry
I speak of a man
I tell of his works
His works that stand conspicuous
In the swathe of the ruins
Of his detractors’ subversive activities
I speak of man who gave birth to a nation
I speak of a man who lived and died for his people
I speak of a man loved and hated by his own people
I speak of a 20th century political Christ
Accused, Abused and Refused
I speak of a man vilified and demonised
Castigated by his generation
Today I speak of a man
Vindicated, celebrated
And almost deified
A man who started a fire
That burnt down towers of powers of oppression
Operating in Isms and Schisms
Colonialism and imperialism
Powers that raped and robbed my people in Africa
I speak of this man
I speak of his works
I speak of the father of my country Ghana
I speak of Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
The black Star of Africa
Nkrumah show boy
The Giant killer
The light bearer
The answer to the question
The wind of black Africa liberation
The bear chest of the new Africa
The crown of the black pride
Take it or leave it
The army prophet general of the struggle
Take it or leave it
The tallest of the standing tall
The warrior for the soldiers
I speak of a man who brook no dread and dared to stand against the system
Kicked out the crazy baldheads
And trampled down Babylon
Home and abroad
I speak of a man who brought the sum dowm on the John Bull’s empire
I speak of a man who never dies
I speak of the man whose voice is still talking revolution
After 100years
I speak of Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
To the galling of his detractors
He is the one
The only one
The man of the millennium
The greatest of all
I speak of no one but him
Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
Twa Omanye Aba
In the name of art history
By way of poetry
I speak of a man
I tell of his works
His works that stand conspicuous
In the swathe of the ruins
Of his detractors’ subversive activities
I speak of man who gave birth to a nation
I speak of a man who lived and died for his people
I speak of a man loved and hated by his own people
I speak of a 20th century political Christ
Accused, Abused and Refused
I speak of a man vilified and demonised
Castigated by his generation
Today I speak of a man
Vindicated, celebrated
And almost deified
A man who started a fire
That burnt down towers of powers of oppression
Operating in Isms and Schisms
Colonialism and imperialism
Powers that raped and robbed my people in Africa
I speak of this man
I speak of his works
I speak of the father of my country Ghana
I speak of Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
The black Star of Africa
Nkrumah show boy
The Giant killer
The light bearer
The answer to the question
The wind of black Africa liberation
The bear chest of the new Africa
The crown of the black pride
Take it or leave it
The army prophet general of the struggle
Take it or leave it
The tallest of the standing tall
The warrior for the soldiers
I speak of a man who brook no dread and dared to stand against the system
Kicked out the crazy baldheads
And trampled down Babylon
Home and abroad
I speak of a man who brought the sum dowm on the John Bull’s empire
I speak of a man who never dies
I speak of the man whose voice is still talking revolution
After 100years
I speak of Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
To the galling of his detractors
He is the one
The only one
The man of the millennium
The greatest of all
I speak of no one but him
Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
Twa Omanye Aba
Blacks and nearly whites
By Brother Biko
Blacks and nearly whites lets do something right
Let’s come together and fight the good fight
We cannot sit down nor spend our precious lives
Serving greedy slave masters and their wives
As they loot from our national coffers
And brand our continents super worthless
It behoves on us to build a society
That believes first in human equality
Blacks and nearly whites let us see the light
Try and help each other with all our might
Life is for a collective benefit
Not for ones outrageous greedy profit
Let’s reach into our minds and delve deeper
We can move on as each others keeper
Bring out the best in our collective selves
And be grateful to life for what she serves
Blacks and nearly whites life has one secret
Which is to fear nothing and be discreet
Let’s build a world pretty much like heaven
We are capable when we look within
Good attitude to life is all we need
Let not despair and hopelessness breed
Too late to think of making a good beginning
But we all can make excellent ending
Blacks and nearly whites its time for a change
If we just sit down things won’t rearrange
It takes scores of ten thousands to be poor
For one fool to get rich and rule the law
As long as there are billionaires on earth
Millions of people shall live in pain and death
Its time for us to act lets be working
Against the system of a queen and king
Blacks and nearly whites lets do something right
Let’s come together and fight the good fight
We cannot sit down nor spend our precious lives
Serving greedy slave masters and their wives
As they loot from our national coffers
And brand our continents super worthless
It behoves on us to build a society
That believes first in human equality
Blacks and nearly whites let us see the light
Try and help each other with all our might
Life is for a collective benefit
Not for ones outrageous greedy profit
Let’s reach into our minds and delve deeper
We can move on as each others keeper
Bring out the best in our collective selves
And be grateful to life for what she serves
Blacks and nearly whites life has one secret
Which is to fear nothing and be discreet
Let’s build a world pretty much like heaven
We are capable when we look within
Good attitude to life is all we need
Let not despair and hopelessness breed
Too late to think of making a good beginning
But we all can make excellent ending
Blacks and nearly whites its time for a change
If we just sit down things won’t rearrange
It takes scores of ten thousands to be poor
For one fool to get rich and rule the law
As long as there are billionaires on earth
Millions of people shall live in pain and death
Its time for us to act lets be working
Against the system of a queen and king
Afrika
By Brother Biko
In afrika all things happen
As long as leaders say amen
To the World Bank and IMF
To rip us on masters behalf
But we can turn the table
And make the continent stable
If we mean to rule destiny
And not sell our souls for money
Afrika shan’t be safe and sound
When grave exploitation abound
When we sit on gold to be poor
Whilst masters hide behind the law
If we change our mentality
And wreck the cause of poverty
Rape murder robbery and crime
Shall run to once upon a time
When people do not find justice
Then justice finds highest office
You see ballots thrown far away
Bullets rise to have the final say
Social insurance of one all
Leaders followers great or small
Is the key to stability
That’s no gift from god almighty
Learning to become foreign tools
Producing their raw materials
Neglecting our common sense
Holding fast to indifference
Can only lead us to deepest hell
Let’s look within and make things well
Lets be our one and only hope
Life is far from opera soap
In afrika all things happen
As long as leaders say amen
To the World Bank and IMF
To rip us on masters behalf
But we can turn the table
And make the continent stable
If we mean to rule destiny
And not sell our souls for money
Afrika shan’t be safe and sound
When grave exploitation abound
When we sit on gold to be poor
Whilst masters hide behind the law
If we change our mentality
And wreck the cause of poverty
Rape murder robbery and crime
Shall run to once upon a time
When people do not find justice
Then justice finds highest office
You see ballots thrown far away
Bullets rise to have the final say
Social insurance of one all
Leaders followers great or small
Is the key to stability
That’s no gift from god almighty
Learning to become foreign tools
Producing their raw materials
Neglecting our common sense
Holding fast to indifference
Can only lead us to deepest hell
Let’s look within and make things well
Lets be our one and only hope
Life is far from opera soap
Children of civilization
By Brother Biko
Children of civilization
Now set to abject destruction
Frozen is our desire to know
Little we think we know aren’t so
Children of greatest mind makers
Perishing amongst non thinkers
Our minds are on serious run
We are like captives in the can
Our men energetic and strong
Almost cannot tell right from wrong
Our women pretty to behold
Mostly sex items to be sold
We awakened humanity
But out of goddamn naivety
We are still down not ready to rise
And leaders are still telling lies
Our nations are right down the drain
Our youth are hooked on gun and cocaine
Our leaders mostly deaf and blind
System won’t allow them to be kind
The creator gave us a head start
How come we failed to do our part
We must research and find ourselves
And give system what it deserves
Christianity came by way of gun
Islam by means of a swordsman
We were the pagans they did say
Foolish were we to choose their way
Let’s find our own ways and means
We can’t live on slave religions
Five hundred years in abject mess
Time to say no to oppressors
Children of civilization
Now set to abject destruction
Frozen is our desire to know
Little we think we know aren’t so
Children of greatest mind makers
Perishing amongst non thinkers
Our minds are on serious run
We are like captives in the can
Our men energetic and strong
Almost cannot tell right from wrong
Our women pretty to behold
Mostly sex items to be sold
We awakened humanity
But out of goddamn naivety
We are still down not ready to rise
And leaders are still telling lies
Our nations are right down the drain
Our youth are hooked on gun and cocaine
Our leaders mostly deaf and blind
System won’t allow them to be kind
The creator gave us a head start
How come we failed to do our part
We must research and find ourselves
And give system what it deserves
Christianity came by way of gun
Islam by means of a swordsman
We were the pagans they did say
Foolish were we to choose their way
Let’s find our own ways and means
We can’t live on slave religions
Five hundred years in abject mess
Time to say no to oppressors
Beautiful great women
By Brother Biko
Beautiful great women of afrika
You aren’t objects for bad men to conquer
Beautiful righteous women of the world
You must be seen but most of all be heard
In unity lie your hope and power
You mustn’t wither away like flower
Don’t let cheap chocolate vibes confuse you
You deserve the best you deserve your due
You are the most important in this life
Nature made you to be more than a wife
You are too great to be disrespected
Too glorious to be misappreciated
You are more than things for men to look at
You don’t deserve to serve as a doormat
United you can do what you need to do
Don’t let any pig discourage you
Let not men sing praises of your behinds
And still treat you as very little minds
To have emotional intelligence
Doesn’t mean you have weak rational sense
Time is ripe to rise on your brain and feet
Aim at every parliamentarian seat
If you allow men to make all the rules
You will be left with kitchen tools
Religions are there to oppress women
Don’t follow doctrines to sexist den
The myth of eve made you the most hated
That of Delilah made you least trusted
Holy books by men are politics of sex
All written to leave you in hell annex
Know your story and get understanding
That your life did not begin in Eden
Beautiful great women of afrika
You aren’t objects for bad men to conquer
Beautiful righteous women of the world
You must be seen but most of all be heard
In unity lie your hope and power
You mustn’t wither away like flower
Don’t let cheap chocolate vibes confuse you
You deserve the best you deserve your due
You are the most important in this life
Nature made you to be more than a wife
You are too great to be disrespected
Too glorious to be misappreciated
You are more than things for men to look at
You don’t deserve to serve as a doormat
United you can do what you need to do
Don’t let any pig discourage you
Let not men sing praises of your behinds
And still treat you as very little minds
To have emotional intelligence
Doesn’t mean you have weak rational sense
Time is ripe to rise on your brain and feet
Aim at every parliamentarian seat
If you allow men to make all the rules
You will be left with kitchen tools
Religions are there to oppress women
Don’t follow doctrines to sexist den
The myth of eve made you the most hated
That of Delilah made you least trusted
Holy books by men are politics of sex
All written to leave you in hell annex
Know your story and get understanding
That your life did not begin in Eden
What we write
By Brother Biko
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
What we write comes from heart bleeding
Minds set on rapid fire blazing
What we write expresses anger
Torment anguish danger
We write a straight forward invite
Which leads to afrikan light
Light of awareness consciousness
Light to empower powerless
We write what has long been written
We speak what has long been spoken
We write a common peoples manual
Unsorted natural factual
We write protest songs street anthems
We make you aware of problems
You need to take note of this hint
Nothing we write is a blueprint
We write what was in sankara
We write the mind of Guevara
Nkrumah Lumumba Biko
Even mumia on deathrow
What we write survived cold regimes
That of smith Leopold and their dreams
We write blood against oppression
And all forms of exploitation
Our writings stand firm for justice
So you should know we are for peace
Justice for our people and all
Justice bold firm standing tall
What we write is crap to the stupid
Bloody nonsense to the timid
Blasphemy to the self righteous
Yet nothing stops what we write oh yes
Monday, February 16, 2009
WHEN I LUV U…
by Maame Ama Pratt
We’re friends
We’re friends on earth
We’re friends in my dreams
We talk on phone till the sun sets and the cock crows
We seize every opportunity to be together
I feel blue…
I hear your voice…
I feel gay
Sorrow clutches at my heart…
Need your soothing voice to calm me
Your broad shoulders to rest on
Your eyes to tell me
Everything will be alright
I’m happy …
Have to share my joy with my boo
Have to laugh at you
Have to laugh with you
My day dreams are vivid images of us strolling on the beach holding hands
Running in the rain, soaked, cold and happy
My night dreams are scenes of us walking on the moon with the sun in our hands and the stars at our feet
With you, I feel visibly invisible
Is this love?
Is this love that I’m feeling
Why do I love you?
Could it be your smile
That lights up a room and brightens up my world
Could it be your soothing voice
That vibrates in my ear long after you’ve gone
Could it be your heart
Your good, warm, thoughtful heart
Could it be your lips
That curls up in that sweet manner
When you say …
I love you
I love you too
I don’t know why
Maybe I’m just a foolish girl
Maybe I’m just sentimental
But maybe it’s because I love me
When I love you!
We’re friends
We’re friends on earth
We’re friends in my dreams
We talk on phone till the sun sets and the cock crows
We seize every opportunity to be together
I feel blue…
I hear your voice…
I feel gay
Sorrow clutches at my heart…
Need your soothing voice to calm me
Your broad shoulders to rest on
Your eyes to tell me
Everything will be alright
I’m happy …
Have to share my joy with my boo
Have to laugh at you
Have to laugh with you
My day dreams are vivid images of us strolling on the beach holding hands
Running in the rain, soaked, cold and happy
My night dreams are scenes of us walking on the moon with the sun in our hands and the stars at our feet
With you, I feel visibly invisible
Is this love?
Is this love that I’m feeling
Why do I love you?
Could it be your smile
That lights up a room and brightens up my world
Could it be your soothing voice
That vibrates in my ear long after you’ve gone
Could it be your heart
Your good, warm, thoughtful heart
Could it be your lips
That curls up in that sweet manner
When you say …
I love you
I love you too
I don’t know why
Maybe I’m just a foolish girl
Maybe I’m just sentimental
But maybe it’s because I love me
When I love you!
MAN IS GREATER THAN ALL
By Kwakuvi Azasu!
In the eventide I wearily plod
The shrub fringed path to Luhue in flood
Numb and weary, wearily on, I plod
They, many creatures my feet disturbed
From slumber troubled and perturbed
Run frantic into the running water, to the sound “plop”
The snake like the butterflies
Wriggles harmless as it flies,
Away into the running water, to sound “plop”
On, on I walk the water brim,
To wake a crocodile from his dream,-
With an ugly deftness and splash! Away to swim!
All creatures nimbly make way
All creatures nimbly make way
For me as they plunge with awe
Into the depths of running Luhue.
Suddenly! And I wonder
Why a colossal hippo also thunders!
Into the water with a deafening – splash!
Then the thought shoot my brain
Shattering ignorance to establish truth:
Man is greater, man is greater! Than all!
In the eventide I wearily plod
The shrub fringed path to Luhue in flood
Numb and weary, wearily on, I plod
They, many creatures my feet disturbed
From slumber troubled and perturbed
Run frantic into the running water, to the sound “plop”
The snake like the butterflies
Wriggles harmless as it flies,
Away into the running water, to sound “plop”
On, on I walk the water brim,
To wake a crocodile from his dream,-
With an ugly deftness and splash! Away to swim!
All creatures nimbly make way
All creatures nimbly make way
For me as they plunge with awe
Into the depths of running Luhue.
Suddenly! And I wonder
Why a colossal hippo also thunders!
Into the water with a deafening – splash!
Then the thought shoot my brain
Shattering ignorance to establish truth:
Man is greater, man is greater! Than all!
LIFE
By Vivian Golo-Kumah
My soul wonders in thought of life
What life will I behold as a young woman?
Will I be powerful and mighty as they say?
Or live in my little timid way of life.
Life has become nightmare of uncertainty,
Yes! The past I know, the present I live in
But what use have I made of the present
This is all I have and know of, I think of and cherish.
And steadfastly I hold
The future is my deepest fear and has caused me sleepless night.
The Fear of living in perpetual guilt of failure to achieve my heart desires.
The fear that haunt me like death, ghost and like a monster.
Life oh life! All I ask for is fairness
All I hope for is greatness, happiness and fulfillment in life.
Oh life, oh, oh life so unpredictable
Oh life, oh life so gracious yet unassuming.
My soul wonders in thought of life
What life will I behold as a young woman?
Will I be powerful and mighty as they say?
Or live in my little timid way of life.
Life has become nightmare of uncertainty,
Yes! The past I know, the present I live in
But what use have I made of the present
This is all I have and know of, I think of and cherish.
And steadfastly I hold
The future is my deepest fear and has caused me sleepless night.
The Fear of living in perpetual guilt of failure to achieve my heart desires.
The fear that haunt me like death, ghost and like a monster.
Life oh life! All I ask for is fairness
All I hope for is greatness, happiness and fulfillment in life.
Oh life, oh, oh life so unpredictable
Oh life, oh life so gracious yet unassuming.
KINDNESS
by Vivian Golokumah
There’s a pretty woman somewhere I know,
Before whose eyes greed is transformed into generosity
In her mouth a tongue of soothing comfort
And in her breasts sweet milk of sympathy.
All she could, she gives the needy;
And when she can’t she encourages true
Those in pain she pampers with pity.
Her hands are magic wands of mercy,
Which bitter poison alters to sweet honey,
And resolves wars into painless peace
Ugly Anger! Her smiles change into dainty love.
She is great! That woman I know:
Never frowning – always smiling
She is Kindness who but a few do know.
By Vivian GoloKumah
Dedicated to my mother
There’s a pretty woman somewhere I know,
Before whose eyes greed is transformed into generosity
In her mouth a tongue of soothing comfort
And in her breasts sweet milk of sympathy.
All she could, she gives the needy;
And when she can’t she encourages true
Those in pain she pampers with pity.
Her hands are magic wands of mercy,
Which bitter poison alters to sweet honey,
And resolves wars into painless peace
Ugly Anger! Her smiles change into dainty love.
She is great! That woman I know:
Never frowning – always smiling
She is Kindness who but a few do know.
By Vivian GoloKumah
Dedicated to my mother
POOR WOMAN
by Vivian Golokumah
Poor woman, look how oppressed she is
Suppressed she has been all this years.
Marriage has limited her to little chances,
Marriage has put her in captivity of no choice of
Her.
Poor woman, she can’t speak when her husband
Speaks, she can’t even have a decent conversation
With her husband without being beaten like a thief who
Has Stolen.
Her very existence is pain, anguish, anxiety and nightmare
Because she is a woman who married to a beast as husband.
Poor woman, she has no right over her sexuality, her husband own
Her like a piece of land, he decides when to plant, nature and cultivate
The land.
The poor woman has to be submissive and loving unconditionally
to the husband. She is like a piece of wood before her husband she
can’t have equal love and be treated like the woman that she is.
The poor woman has to produce children as a prove her womanhood
Marriage has enslaved her.
All in name of womanhood.
All she ever wanted as woman was happiness as a married woman.
Poor woman, look how oppressed she is
Suppressed she has been all this years.
Marriage has limited her to little chances,
Marriage has put her in captivity of no choice of
Her.
Poor woman, she can’t speak when her husband
Speaks, she can’t even have a decent conversation
With her husband without being beaten like a thief who
Has Stolen.
Her very existence is pain, anguish, anxiety and nightmare
Because she is a woman who married to a beast as husband.
Poor woman, she has no right over her sexuality, her husband own
Her like a piece of land, he decides when to plant, nature and cultivate
The land.
The poor woman has to be submissive and loving unconditionally
to the husband. She is like a piece of wood before her husband she
can’t have equal love and be treated like the woman that she is.
The poor woman has to produce children as a prove her womanhood
Marriage has enslaved her.
All in name of womanhood.
All she ever wanted as woman was happiness as a married woman.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sardine Happiness
By Al-hassan
It was a Saturday morning
Big Boats from Apam visit Gomoa Fetteh
It was low tide, the see is calm
Exposed rocks green see weeds
It smells fresh and green
Young men in shorts carrying sardine boxes
Boys snatching sardine
Fishmongers busy bargaining for sardine
Pure water and orange sellers were all there
My feet rooted in sand
FREEDOM CENTRE
Amewuga Ablordeppey
And from what Free;
What Ta,
And from what Cen:
Yeah Freedom Centre,
I’m glad I don’t pay to enter…
Here my ears are brightened,
Here my soul is flamed in wisdom,
People mind beautifully high,
I mix in and peacefully sigh…
Yeah Freedom Centre
Keep sculpturing this banter…
Shine it all over very much,
My asanka says you’d call all,
That beyond and ever you’d stand tall,
Thank God I’m a poetry repenter
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Mashed Yam
Papa Alata
Mashed yam and palm oil,
Soothing meal will it be,
Soothing meal down my throat,
World competitors it will conquer.
When I savour
Childhood delicacy
Of much adequacy
As motherly message
It gives at home
Down my throat
The Lorry Station
Papa Alata
The little rising dust
Like brown water spray,
Of a fountain overburdened,
Junked up palm kernels noisy,
With torn – up tarpaulin tops
These wooden body Lorries,
Their blaring horns,
Like the unheeded mournful tones
Of a whale calling;
All in a confusion of burying humanity
That was the lorry station
Of the birds eye view.
Five Little Sisters
Papa Alata
Five little sisters
Each as a mistress
Live they in distress
Created by the seamstress,
Thinking under great stress
They go up with slow steps
Unattractive cut of dress,
Up the chapel with mindful steps
Sabotaged by the priestess
Their spirit in a great mess.
Love Me, God
Papa Alata
Love me Mummy’s God
Daddy’s Lord,
Everybody’s Call,
Of the Nazarene Cult
Love me ,God
Even when the gourd,
Is used for your lot
From the fetish call
Of the animist cult.
Love me, God
House Nigger
Betraying his fellows,
Privileges does he win
Of not working in the fields,
Betraying his fellows,
Elevated he does become
Insuring the neo-colony
In Black Atlantic
Better skin colour,
A woman of the Master Class
House Niggers
Most have the Cream become
The best of sable Crowd,
Better slaves
And ethnic purity disgraced,
Even in these days,
Of going our own way.
When our own should hold sway;
Black Cush,
Seize the times.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
By Brother Biko
oh geez oh please
a week in office
some are saying hes slow
as if they dont know
that one misruled us for eleven years
and we gave him an extra eight
another came to tie us to hopelessness
and he had eight to waste the state
both cant be better than atta mills
unless he learns their special skills
we need a change we need a change
but some comments are so strange
for ghana to reach the top
some may really have to shut up
My Colour Never Gets Tired
By Brother Biko
being traumatized dehumanized despiritualized disconnected
yet my colour never gets tired
passed thru colonialism passed thru slavery
thru the hands of jesus mohammed to be damned eternally
yet my colour never gets tired
being beaten raped hired fired
yet my colour never gets tired
passed thru wars hunger diseases
manmade catastrophies and crisis
yet my colour never gets tired
being pinched stretched bleached discoloured
yet my colour never gets tired
passed thru ruthless invaders brainless leaders
mind destroyers liars reverend pastors
yet my colour never gets tired
fraustrated humiliated segregated denigrated
yet my colour never gets tired
buried in the atlantic sea ripped from mothers belly
life is still ugly life is still bloody
yet my colour never gets tired
tied shackled manacled fettered
yet my colour never gets tired
my colour is still fighting to be free
and my colour shall be free for the world to see
Colourless Curse
By Brother Biko
oh soweto
oh children
oh zimbabwe
not yet uhuru
theyve not changed
they wont change
we have to change things
chaining our feet
hanging our mind
tearing us apart to build themselves
satisfying their selfishness and greed
on our mind and our back
destroying our cultures
stealing our myths
and giving it back to us
to make us look stupid
giving us a god to worship to keep us in slave ship
diverting our attention to the skies
as they dig beneath our sole
for the gold that made europe and amerikkka
drowning us in angry oceans
casting us into prisons within prisons
for the crime of speaking about freedom
as they sleep with our wives
rape our mothers
snatch our husbands
kill our fathers
shattering our families into irretrievable pieces
battering our heads for refusing to be slaves
chopping off our hands over rubber
making us do the same to ourselves
for them to get their blings
demonizing us for reclaiming our farmlands
confusing us to the realities of this life
crushing our aspirations and giving us false hopes
unfair trade deals here and there
allying themselves to oppressive pro western regimes
providing tips to blind our foolish leaders
for them to keep the people in poverty
by bringing in idiotic problematic solutions
to aggravate white mess all these years
and yet the slavemasters talk about a curse on afrikans
what curse do we know of if not they on us
what curse is undoing afrikans
if not the same old colourless curse
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Where Can I Be Heard?
By Vivian Golokumah
My Friend, my friend, my friend!
Where can I pour my thoughts?
Where can I pour my heart, where can I share
My worries and fears, where can speak my mind,
When there is none to hear me?
Where can I shed my tears when they can’t be seen?
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Coming Storm In The Village
by P. A Oranmeyen
The wind comes blowing through the louvres,
To run over my skin,
Cool and soothing,
As I stand at the magazine stand.
Twinkling in the night sky outside,
Are the many stars,
Little eyes of the unknown do they look;
Eyes smiling,
Over the subdued city,
Underneath the huge overturned bowl,
That the night’s sky is.
The sound of traffic comes faint and singing,
But unusual silence envelopes the hall,
And I turned round;
Seven faces,
Thinking of home’s comfort,
And turning out the last reader,
Me.
Outside,
And to me comes the night’s coolness,
Doubly strengthened,
Caressing my arms and cooling my forehead.
The wind howls now,
Pieces of dirty paper,
Are in the streets flying;
Deserted streets,
Save the lonely souls hurrying,
To the comfort of home.
Cool wind now,
Speaking to me,
Of of childhood days;
Days of innocence,
When the very air,
Was great discovery,
And the paper kite,
The greatest invention.
Cool winds speaking,
Of the early life,
Mother’s warm breasts,
And the comforting laps,
The soothing palm in the thunderstorm,
And the ample arm,
Protection itself it was,
From lightning’s flash;
Her warmth,
And,
The calming words,
For her frightened prince;
Her great prince,
That even cats could bully without trying,
Who ruled her heart,
And her motherly love held,
That great prince that was so,
For being her first living male.
The drizzle comes now,
Cold,
Like alien snow in the darkness,
As I break,
From the dark and lonely streets.
Neon lights here,
Psychedelic and inviting,
Like unconcerned mutes,
They smile in the rain,
Doomed to the elements,
And happy in their work,
Bringing to me,
Thoughts of Mother,
Happy she is in her work at home.
Mother,
That would slave for her children’s happiness,
Mother that would starve,
If feeding them meant going hungry,
To whom the greatest sorrow,
Is the frown of her children,
On her advice.
The rain grows stronger,
And with other victims,
Do I seek shelter from the lash,
Under the upper floors,
The closed shops,
Listening ,
To the animated chatter here.
Woman behind a big pan,
Porridge seller;
The ladle dips,
And disappearing,
Brown bowl comes to view;
White inside receives,
The hot brown liquid,
With money bowl beside her,
Of water and coins,
And daughters behind giggling,
With two youngmen joking.
Street lights shining on the watery street,
Like a million fireflies,
Under a ruffled sea;
In keeping beat of movement,
With whistling,
Of a cinema house nearby,
And taxicabs crawling down the street,
Windows closed,
Like so many tortoises in the rain.
And I stood by the hurrying humanity,
Beside the porridge seller,
Listening,
To the soothing sounds,
Savouring,
The singing ring of her voice,
The homely sound that called for customers,
Before the closed shops,
Business place of the Levantines;
While against a pillar I lean,
Thinking,
Of the night life and the rain,
Darwin,
The Beginning,
And of Mother
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Bellytricks
By Jonathan Langdon
If you don’t know
You don’t know
The greatest puppets
Have the most to gain
Their padded stomach
Insulation against the plight
A quivering layer of dependency and drought
If you don’t know
You can’t know
All that shouting
The violent vociferous velocity
Of insults and exclamations
Is camouflage for
Ballots bought, ballots bound
If you don’t know
Should you care?
This belly politics
Is like a disease that blinds
With religious-like zeal
Swearing what is white is black
And what is black is white
If you don’t know
You should know
Politics, they say politricks
I say bellytricks, like insect-tics
They are parasites sitting heavy
Blotting out the possibilities
Of this misnomer we all
Haltingly call democracy
If you don’t know
You don’t know
The greatest puppets
Have the most to gain
Their padded stomach
Insulation against the plight
A quivering layer of dependency and drought
If you don’t know
You can’t know
All that shouting
The violent vociferous velocity
Of insults and exclamations
Is camouflage for
Ballots bought, ballots bound
If you don’t know
Should you care?
This belly politics
Is like a disease that blinds
With religious-like zeal
Swearing what is white is black
And what is black is white
If you don’t know
You should know
Politics, they say politricks
I say bellytricks, like insect-tics
They are parasites sitting heavy
Blotting out the possibilities
Of this misnomer we all
Haltingly call democracy
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