Saturday, 31 October 2015


Burundi, you are caught in a trap
And only you can free yourself
Bujumburam is choked by her own tears
The blood Of Evariste splashes across sorghum fields

The spirit voice of Kayenda is strangled at dawn
By those who once were friends
Gishora panics
Abatimbos fear

Burundi, you have killed Nkezabahizi the cameraman
And spared not his wife Niyonzima and children to carry on his voice
Burundi, you tied sand to your son’s testicles
And burned his buttocks in acid

Burundi, you already crossed your red sea
Then why? For once the Israelites did cross
Where is Nkurunziza of our past decade?
Nkurunziza the christian

Burundi, the garment you wear is white Saltire
Yet Africa mourns your nakedness.

Copyright (C) 2015

Monday, 12 October 2015


Good morning friends

Good morning flowery flames of flourishing fields

Good morning Anases

Mockers tremble when you wake at cockcrow

Good morning to those who were born yesterday

Good morning to those who loved us yesterday
You cause rain to gather in our eyes
Grow and water the earth
In wait for the harvest

Good morning to those whose palms fed the kernel
Our children know of you
That you did not bury the prophecy
The merry songs and dreadful days

Good morning to ordinary men who feed hungry mouths
Though you are despised everywhere
Your name is everywhere
The Potter’s pride

Good morning to suffering souls
When your day comes
Offer your master his last pound of greeting
Then walk out to your freedom which waits at the door

Good morning to those who deserve our greetings

Good morning friends.

Copyright (C) 2015

Saturday, 10 October 2015


Light shines where it shines
Darkness stripped
Driven across the mountains
Here, no eyes should see blackness

Light shines where it shines
Blackest dawn forced backwards
With the strike of nine wounded vipers
Backwards ever forward never

Light shines where it shines
Light in every being
Ascending to ascension
Till the world sees bright light indeed

Light shines where it shines
The moon in your palms
Even on your sick bed
Of exit into eternal rest

That, men should see
The candlelight you were in their darkness.

Copyright (C) 2015

Thursday, 8 October 2015


On that blissful night
Of retire from the Folks Place
Where our feet first converged at Nana's call
I, the bee
Blown by the wind into your path

Words exchanged one or two, or three
'You look familiar’, I have seen you before'
Then, you entered my soul, there
Embossed, not ephemeral, your fragrance
I inhaled deeply

Morning blossoms
Blossoming spring
Clothed in heaven's mind
The window of my heart flung opened
To catch your aroma and morning breathe

Afternoon sun
Baths you to beauty
Your attitude
Your sweetness
Your care

My heart whispered me calm
Spoke to me and sang a ballad
My heart knew it had found a treasure
A place, a home
A woman to love, a companion

I loosened to trust like Bonwire’s loom
You are the weaver’s hand
Whose tears wiped away my tears
Love is no more a stranger

Dainty dove
I till the earth and sow
A handful of gratitude
For you, the august gift of August.

Copyright (C) 2015

Abronoma (Akan Twi) = Dove

Monday, 5 October 2015


Rascals have invaded our Circle

Every place where men should gather

Conmen with smelly armpits, armed with

A verse, totems and

A mad man for experiment

This exhibition surely is not for kings

Foolish men

He is ready to slaughter his obedient listeners


He is no Abraham neither are they Isaac, but

They are ever ready to be sacrificed

He excites the circular crowd

He excites the mad man stationed at the centre

Mad man fondles his scrotum and flicks away

A homeless harmless fly

Misses prophet by half an inch

(me di yesu mogya kan we nim)

They jeer, loud enough to catch the saviour’s attention

‘Preach on!’, a hooligan hits the punch line

‘Swag on Prophet!’ another thunders thin

‘The Prophet bulldozer!’

Its collection time

Business comes to an end soon, the prophet’s saviour

Whereas they need be redeemed by the real saviour 

Copyright (C) 2015


This is to the beggar whose lineage are kingsmen

Death, they thought, must be a better choice

Than slanderous fingers should point at the royal palace

And gossips should find their voices again

What happened passed from one lip to the other?


Snuffed out softly, slowly

In the company of bootlickers and wild at hearts

Lured onto a slippery stage

Dreams fester

Merriment becomes a curse


Not the dancers are to blame, not the singers but

The audience, among whom the beggar is numbered

The kingsmen could no longer remain dumb

They forbade the prophet to prophesy

And the soothsayer they charged to remain at arm’s length

That for the sake of their prodigal son, they should be poorer by some bread and butter

They reasoned among themselves, that,

Someday, the Pig’s feed should run out while their son’s hunger hurt him more

They knew the Pig would snort louder

Till their son heard the voice of wisdom calling in the Pig's snort

And return home

Copyright (C) 2015

Friday, 2 October 2015


Ripe egg
Bearer of gold eggs

Your wings spread beautifully abroad
Peacock in flight
You swallow the pebbles of my despair
Your love reminds me of old God

You mean so much
Words are prisoners of your love
Your smile spreads across  
Your voice is a tale on noble tongues

I will tell my mother about you
And remind your mother of her beautiful tree
Planted in the heart of a young lover

Copyright (C) 2015