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Showing posts from December, 2012

Who Is Responsible

Forget it; forget it all,
Colonialism, Neo-colonialism, Imperialism, They didn’t cause this fall, Some raison d'ĂȘtre must exist, A rationale for this I-Don’t-Careism, Would you tell me?
Who’s to blame, You, them, or me For the way we are?
How do we explain That we didn’t hear when Samuel F. Morse sent, “What God hath wrought”? Or when the brothers Wright took to flight, Or that we know not from whence we came Or to where we go?
Tell me, who is responsible?
Whom do I ask? The excited barefooted children Sitting under the blistering tropical sun singing, “In the bleak midwinter…” Or should I ask you sitting there, trying To be like “Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat…”?
When the drums did beat, Your feet couldn’t, wouldn’t dance, You were lost to it all, Adowa, Agbadza even the Kpanlogo stance, You swayed not to home-brewed rhythms; Who is to blame?
Here, near the centre of the Earth, Passions, not actions define all factions, Here where the Sun kisses length and breadth, Fingers are pointed for days on end.
Who is responsible…

Cosmic Pandering

No rhyme or reason
No time or season
I saw death. All of it. And it was me
I felt life's breath, felt its heat, please let me be
But the shadow remain. Fearful and brunt
The hollow expands. Hopeless and blunt
Deep within the rubbles. In the trenches of your heart
High above these castles, in its crevices let your soul start
It is lost. For death has no heart
It is the cost. For life has no cast
And turning nature's head. Twist it backwards
And sleeping in destiny's bed, there's something we move towards
Yet to every step. Distorting nature. You pay with balance

*****13th December 2012*****
by Nana Yaw Sarpong and Efo Dela

When A Man Feels

When a man loves;
It is fierce, burning, self-sustaining,
He will defy the gods to keep them safe,
Those he loves,
He lives, dies for them,
Loyalty leaping from a devoted soul
And he calls them,
Comrade, Brother, Sister, Friend.

When a man truly loves a woman;
The passion; explosives,
Like volcanoes ejaculating magma,
Let nothing stand in his way.
When a man loves a woman,
He becomes a poet,
For his heart speaks not mere words,
But sacred oracles,
Cultured Conversation Cascading from confounded lips,
And he calls her,
Angel, Queen, Dear, Woman.

When a man a cries,
‘tis rare,
Each pain filled tear speaks, a dead language,
The reason you couldn't comprehend his pain,
And when they hit the Ground,
Mother Earth captures her son’s anguish,
Pure petrified precious pain,
And that’s how diamonds are formed.

When a man’s heart breaks,
Miles away it’s heard and called thunder,
His heart develops infinite fault lines,
And when it tries to heal itself,
It calcifies at each crack, Jaded,

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