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I PONDER…

painting-ponder
And if tonight…
…You see me doing a tortoise match with my words,
It is not because I am the tortoise’s match
It is because my soul is overwhelmed with thoughts of life…..
And so I ponder.

For if tonight…
…My soul should find her peace in sleep and sink in good oblivion
And in the morning wake like a new-opened flower…..
…Then I know that I have been dipped again in God…a new creature

And if as the weeks go by in the count of the moon my spirit darkens and brightens
And a soft strange silence pervades my movement and my thought and my words…so wise
Then I…
…Shall know that I am walking still…..with Guidance on my side.

And if as the seasons rises and falls
I feel the pain of falling leaves
And stems that break in storms and troubles and dissolution and distress…
And then the softness of deep shadows folding,
Folding…
…And folding around my soul and spirit…so weak

And if in the changing phases of man’s life
I fall sick and in misery and my wrist seem broken and my heart seems dead and strength is gone and my life is only a leavings of life…
Then I….
…Shall know that I have indeed lived to witness the divine truth…
Karma has been a faithful friend
Time…a trusted ally
The Grace of God…the ultimate gift of breath…
Then I shall sing praises unto high and smile
As I watch and count  my last breath tick tock me away  into eternal silence…….

 

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/poetry/

VIRGIN’S MONOLOGUE

virginity

Once upon a fairy phase in life
I lived  and breathed innocence
twas a perfect world…a free world
Filled with fantasies and fairy tales…
Then gradually…
…the fairy me began to slip away…

Until reality struck me unaware
And I gasped in surprise
Then my little breast begun to wake and a strange thought sent sweets down my spine…I smiled.
I begun to feel like a charged electron attracting the opposite
Then a quivering impulse sent shocks down my waist,
Across my abdomen…down, down, down…
A lower me then gets up and greet me.
He stands, and I tremble before him
“Who are you strange fellow?”
He is wordless but sultry and vast
And I can’t make him go
“What do you want from me you lustrous one?”
He is still silent and shapeless.
Oh how beautiful he is!
Without sound, without eyes, without hands;
Yet like a flame he burn through my body
Quiet, yet he alone understand the depth of my confusion
He stares and lightens up
And I trembled in his shadow…
…As he burns for the dark goal.
Is he calling?… I wonder
Is his deep silence full of summons?
Does his steep curve sweep towards a virgin?…

Oh you dark ruddy stranger, forgive me!
For I am helplessly bound to the rock of virginity
Your strange voice has no sound…no meaning to me
I would gladly lie in the womanly valley and ply thy twofold dance until meanings come to me”.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/poetry/

FATWA

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Your Fatwa does not apply here…

I speak to you oh religious fundamentalist
This is a free world…
…A world of equality…
Speak to me of morality
But do not  force me into believing in the hereafter
Do not force me into accepting your religious views;
For I am a humanist
Humanity is my religion…
…The best of worship…

Your Fatwa does not apply here
Oh you enemies of humanity
Shall we sit and watch you minority pronounce yourselves as superior beings to all others?
Assume powers to decide the mode of existence of others?
Decide who shall live and who shall die?
Who shall shake hands with whom even as daily colleagues?
Who shall dictate and who shall submit?

No!…
Your Fatwa does not apply here
Your religious cloak is a tattered alibi…
After our apparent victory over racial injustice,
We shall not sit and watch terrorism take over
We shall not sit and watch religion being substituted as the only entitlement to residence on earth
No! we shall not…..
Let us join voices and tell them that
Their Fatwa does not apply here;
This is no Jihad
For they fight nothing if they fight the innocent
Only cowards turn deadly weapons against the unarmed
True warriors do not wage war against the innocent
Give me back my Islam…
Give me back my Islam…
My Islam which preaches peace, solidarity and humanity
Not the diabolism of Al-shabab, Boko haram or Al-Qaeda
Today, the blood of innocent lives are being shed
But let us assume we were in Nairobi and we survived Al-shabab
Let us assume we survived Boko Haram’s attack this morning
And let us know that we are targets as well
And finally realize that this is a declared war on humanity
And stand firm together on this battle field
For it is time to take back our peaceful Islam,
Our Africa,
And in effect…Our humanity
…Our right to live
Let us fight Terrorism
For their Fatwa does not apply here.

 

 

NB: Wrote this during the Westgate Mall attack in Kenya…. To the memory of Professor Awoonor and all victims of the attack.

LONG STORY

1878_Adams_Monumental_Illustrated_Panorama_of_History_-_Geographicus_-_WorldHistory-adams-1871

 

I yearn to tell of a story
But it’s a long story….
…Very long…
Like a tall storey of story stacked in history’s lorry loitering down a lane filled with mystery…
This story,
…Is such a long story
It is a story of the beginning and the word
And the words piled up to form this story
This story hold the answers to all your questions but this story confuses you the more it tries to answer you
This story…
…The story I yearn to tell…
Is such a long confusing story…
Like a web weaved of words called the World Wide Web
You can Google this story but Google would return with thousands of answers
Because this story is such a long story
It’s a story which intends to tell the truth but hides the truth
‘Cos part of this story is a false fable fabricated and agreed upon
This story doesn’t repeat itself but this story sometimes rhymes
And so you and I know and don’t know the truth of this story
This story,
I say…
…Is such a long winding story….
Like the stories of Ananse’s tactfully tainted tales
Like the printed pages of past parables of disciples scribbled in feeble fables and forced down the throats of innocent men..
This story, is a guide and a misguidance at the same time
This story has saved and destroyed men
This story keeps reminding us of the past
And this story promises answers for the future….
This story that I yearn to tell you….
…Is a very very long story…..

This story shall never end because….
This story is still being lived,
This story is still being told
And this story is still being written…
…Because this story is a combination of your story, her story, their story, my story and “HIS’STORY”
And so we call this story “HISTORY”
And “HISTORY” is such a long story……

 

 

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/poetry/

WELCOME TO PREMMIE

Out of a mother’s womb into a place unknown
My time is not due but circumstances landed me on this desolate desert of hardship untold
With no mummy’s warmth to shield me from this cold
My little soul now lingers….I see no hope
I see no hope but to cope through this steep slope between life and death with no rope to hold on to hope…..
Until you come to my rescue
Until you come to my rescue, I am just another stranded little traveler on this strange land
This desert land that threatens to prevent my little soul from becoming that big soul it so wish to be

You see, I was traveling to this land called “NINE MONTHS”.
And “NINE MONTHS” could be likened to a travel to Italy.
So you plan to see the Colosseum, Venice, Michael Angelo’s David, the leaning tower of Pilsa and Davinci’s Last supper…..
So the time came and my dad took me to this sweet bushy airport and placed me in this plane called womb and we took off.
I was enjoying all the pampering throughout the journey until suddenly…
Suddenly the plane landed unexpectedly.
Then this flight attendant called doctor came to me and said…”WELCOME TO PREMMIE…the land of premature babies”
I said “WHAT?”
Then He said “due to technical difficulties, the flight can no longer continue to “NINE MONTHS”, we have to continue by road. But unless we get a strong fully furnished air-conditioned bus called an incubator, you are going to die here. This place is like the Lydian desert. No food and no water”

My little soul now lingers….I see no hope
I see no hope but to cope through this steep slope between life and death with no rope to hold on to hope…..
Until you come to my rescue
Until you come to my rescue I am just another little soul who could die due to lack of an incubator to help me reach my destination… Who would come to my rescue
Who would save my title big soul
Who would spend a dime to provide me with an incubator
Who would help me reach my destination
To be welcomed with those sweet lullaby
And to enjoy the warmth of a mothers love?
Until you come to my rescue,
I am just another little big soul who could die on this land called PREMMIE….

 

 

prevented-by-promising-protein_9

 

 

NB: Written for LittleBigSouls Ghana, an  NGO for the promotion of healthy premature birth.

http://www.littlebigsouls.com/

VAGINA MONOLOGUES GHANA

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You can imagine what a young man like me thought when I first saw the poster above with the caption, “MEET THE TALKING VAGINAS”. Well yeah, you can take the entire guess you want from the vagina imaginarium. I thought of it all. But a second look at it and I saw VAGINA MONOLOGUES, 14th and 15th February, then I quickly came back to my senses.  This reminded me of the most exciting and yet controversial stage play which stages worldwide around this time of the year. Then I thought, “oh yeah, these vaginas do really talk”. But I bet some people may be wondering how on earth could vaginas talk? Well, I guess we should find out at the National theatre as the talking vaginas make a return to stage.

The Vagina Monologues is an episodic play originally written by Eve Ensler in 1996 to deal with the many atrocities associated with the feminine experience. Over the years, the play has been adapted worldwide to suit different cultures and address the peculiar problems women face within the confines of that culture. In Ghana, the Global Arts and Development Centre, an N.G.O and advocacy Centre has been staging the Ghanian version over the past few years and this year’s promises to be even more exciting. The play, being directed by a renowned Ghanaian director, Abdul Karim Hakib, has over the years evolved to incorporate local stories relative to gender violence against women. The monologues deals with aspects of the feminine experience, touching on matters such as sex, love, rape, menstruation, female genital mutilation, masturbation, birth, orgasm, etc. A recurring theme throughout the play is the “vagina” used as a tool of female empowerment, and the ultimate embodiment of individuality.

The play includes monologues such as the “Angry Vagina”, where the monologist talks about the unjust appellations being given to the vagina. The name of the female genitalia has for about a century or so now become like the Tetragrammatons’ to the Jews. People prefer to call it all sort of names rather than the real name. And in Ghana, the new code name is “Tonga”.  It also talks about the bad treatments women subject their vaginas to all in the name of enhancing it. This monologue humorously rants about such disrespect and negative treatments being meted out to their most sacred organ.

“You cannot love a vagina unless you love hair” is what the monologue titled “Hair” preaches. It talks about the significance of the hair down there. This monologue does not however, discourage shaving but speaks to the need to maintain a minimum fluff of hair to avoid irritations and spikiness during intercourse. The hair is there for a reason indeed.

“The Flood” also talks about an old lady’s  experience in a relationship which led to her avoidance of men for almost the rest of her life.

Other monologues include; My vagina was my village, Because he liked to look at it, My short skirt, I was there in the room, The woman who loved to make vaginas happy etc. These monologues also touches on other pertinent issues relative to the feminine experience.

This year’s play officially begins on the 14th and 15th of February, 2014 at the National Theatre at 8pm each night. The play would be replicated at the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology (KNUST) on the 21st and 22nd of February and then make a final stop at Cape Coast University on the 28th of February and the 1st of April, 2014.

The overall goal of the VAGINA MONOLOGUES Play is not just to entertain audience but mainly to tackle the issues of gender based violence especially against women in our societies. The organizer, Global Arts and Development Centre, is currently undertaking a research project relative to gender based violence in three districts of three regions of Ghana and hopes to replicate it in the remaining districts of the country to enable its eradication. The organization specializes in using the arts as a driver of social and economic development.The production of the VAGINA MONOLOGUES is therefore,  at the heart of the organization.

Audience can expect nothing but the best at this year’s show. The “rap doctor” himself, Okyeame Kwame is the special guest artiste. So come and let us all meet the talking VAGINAS.

ARE AFRICAN MEN ROMANTIC???

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The debate on Romance has been on going for centuries now, and it seems the battle may not end any time soon. The jury, perhaps, have still not found any of the opponents (men and women) argument convincing enough to pronounce judgement in anyone’s favor. More recently, however, the arguments have taken a different shape altogether. The subject matter is now being based more on race, rather than the initial gender. A common example is the case of the modern day African woman perceiving Caucasian men as more romantic than black men. This has prompted my desire to want to address the issue.

Romance, they say is a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love. Now love, is a universal concept or truth which every single homo-sapien, gay or straight believes in, hence, African men inclusive. However, from the above definition of romance, the major concern here is, do African men attach or show that feeling of “excitement and mystery” to the love that they already believe in? Well, I guess we can find out together.

Mostly, when we talk of men and romance, we invariably talk of the sort of romance women expects from their men.  So what is this feeling of excitement and mystery women expect of their men? Most often, this romance is defined in the context of traditional European women’s term, I call it the fairytale romance – sending flowers and cards, romantic get-away, watching doses of romantic movies, three square meals of calls each day, frequently sending gifts and listening to romantic songs all day or you might even want to be their trey songz or usher and sing for them. This fairytale romance has also been propagated by over centuries’ crusade by romance novels, call it the romanticism crusade. But the question is, has the African man succumb to the might of this holy crusade?

African men, most often than not do not subscribe to this fairytale romance and hence being generally labeled unromantic. And let me not forget to mention that I am one of this apparently unromantic homo-sapiens with Y-chromosome.

Here’s a poorly kept secret: Men, and for that matter African men also have traces of Venus in them. That is what I have learnt after some few year of loving. Though African men look too manly physically, beneath the stubble, boisterous and the Sports addiction, most African men are as confused, vulnerable and romantic as women when it comes to falling in love.

African men, by virtue of tradition tend not to have that fairytale flare towards their women due to the nature and manner in which they where raised. They mostly grow up seeing their mothers being controlled by their fathers and also treated with much importance in the area of education more than the women. So the ‘Man-of-house’ mantra or should I say dogma is something the African man is grappling with in the 21st century when the African woman has become aware and needs romance in her love life. This situation has led to the African man being mostly portrayed as violent, thug, controlling, possessive and always coming through with that baby-mama drama in a relationship.

But regardless of the above, who said the African man is  unromantic? I think the African woman ought to look deeper. The African man is very romantic contrary to views that White men are much romantic than them. Women seem to view romance as a state of being, while men tend to look at it more as a sequence of specific actions. Women share their emotions with greater ease. And a BIG difference is that women get much more excited about planning, say their wedding (even before they have a particular bridegroom in mind). Women consider what you buy or do for them as the measure of the love you have for them. But the African man is mostly a realist. He views those actions as artificial. The African man, instead of buying gifts for his woman, concentrates on the longer term picture of building a home for her and the children, provide long term protection and love for her. What is more romantic than this considering the fact that divorce rate is significantly high among white families who supposedly have romantic husbands? African men or black men also have the most sexiest and romantic 3D physical appearance on earth. And this is evidence in the fact that most white women would pay to date them. Black, they say is beautiful and if the women agree to this, then there is not much to say for them to concur that the African has the most romantic color on earth. Forget the novellas; African men could kill if their women are played with. This shows the level of love the African man has compared to what our ladies see in the movies. The African man would also be willing to buy or do everything for his woman but he only believes she should earn it instead of asking for it.

Finally, i think the African women should be more realistic when it comes to the issue of romance instead of thinking the whites acts romantic in their daily lives as seen in the tele-novellas and movies. They should also focus on building that romance they want in their relationships rather than expecting to get it from their men. Romance is built, not earned. A long lasting, peaceful and understanding relationship is the most romantic in my view as an African. Let us collaborate and build one. Peace.

 

CARPE DIEM (Seize the Opportunity)

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Seize the opportunity

I say…

Seize the opportunity.

I hear…

This words ringing in my ears day and night,

Urging me to step up and take up my game up when it comes up my way up….

Seize the opportunity.

So I…

Set up traps to trap and tap into opportunities as they come my way in my daily actions

I seize the opportunity.

‘Cos a wise man once told me that

That lady called opportunity cums but once

So I…

Prepared to cum quick and once when I chance on one

And I plan to make the moment worthy

I seize the opportunity……

Then I ejaculate into her so she bares me fruit.

So seize the opportunity

I say…

Seize the opportunity.

Zoom on it like a lion even if the opportunity is garbage

Do not wait for the best of times

For the worst of times and the best of times

Are all called TIME….

So make every moment in time worthy

Seize the opportunity

Your name might not be STEVE but remember you can also create JOBS

So do not always knock on peoples GATE begging for BILLS for you can also build billions of BILLS and GATE them like BILL GATE seized that MICRO opportunity…

Seize the opportunity.

Be smart for life they say is too short like a midget

But as midget as life may be

We cannot wear her high heels so she looks tall…

Life would forever remain short

So please…

Do not tell me “better late than never”

For “never late is better”…

Seize the opportunity.

Shoot, even if nothing is targeted

Move, even if the path is undefined

Define and find that fine path

And find that fine treasure and nurture

For opportunities are like seeds

They shall eventually become the greatest oaks in the wild

SO SEIZE THE OPPORTUNITY……..

 

MY WEAKNESS

My way of love has always been my weakness.
So I vowed never to sing of it again.
For as long and loud as I have sang, no one seems to understand my version of this old desolate song.
Anytime I try singing, it only comes back as echoes to no one’s understanding but me.
“Maybe the gods never created my eve”, I will sometimes wonder.
Moments came when my voice would give up.
But deep in my prayers, an angel’s whisper urges me to keep singing.
On and on I kept this version playing.
Hoping to find someone to decipher this codes I transmit in keys and notes.
Someone to understand my apparent unintelligible verses. Someone to smile and dance to my tune of love……..
On this divine quest I sang on.
And lo!, from nowhere emerged this Empress.
With a complimentary lullaby that I realize gave meaning to my song.
Promising to lay my weakness to a blissful sleep.
With dreams filled with daylight drums of joy.
She immediately dissolved my weakness and became my strength……..
I quickly asked a duo of us
But my hopes lingered when she said the stars had aligned her lullaby with a different song.
She loves my song but unable to sing with me.
She also realized we are like Siamese and we’ll go platinum together.
But she feared offending the gods of the stars.
I have now become an innocent eternal prisoner to her love.
She is now my new weakness again.
For she killed my previous weakness and became my new weakness.
You see, Its not her beauty but her real self is the sting of love that keeps sinking deep into the soft tissue of my innocent heart each day that passes by.
I pray the gods daily to align the stars in my favor.
So she never doubt this aching of my heart.
Since nobody can bear to hear the burden of my song but her.
I will give thanks to the gods come that day.
For I will say I sang of my weakness and only this Empress could relate to it.
And changed my cacophonous song to sweet melody, Replaced my thunder with tinkling laughter
And Lightening to twinkling eyes……….
But until that day, she still remains my WEAKNESS.