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Love Un-Exorcised

Love is not a benevolent force, It’s a toxic vine That fills the mind with malevolent spores Perverting reason till we tether on the edge of sanity.
Love is The impending apocalypse Triggered at the meeting of our lips and when we finally paused for breath, Some say they felt the violent shudder of the Earth.
Love is the arch-demon that torments me That tries to tear soul from body Leaving my loins in lewd gyration Till charlatan exorcists are left perplexed, And throw their hands up in utter disgust.
Love is my personal demon writhing in my private hell, My Demon, it longs to play with yours, again.
*****December 25, 2014*****



Middle Sex

Let this god create this gender,
A gender which neither would be man
Nor woman, and when this god

Has unified the left and the right,
Men would no more have to woo women
Only to love them or break their hearts
And there would no more be painful gestation
Nor its concomitant super-painful parturition
For we shall each, in tune, carry

Our Personal Incubators (PIs) like laptops
Where future babies would be created
According to our settings and satisfactions

And when this god has made this
Gender, there no more shall be
Penis envy, nor vagina shyness

by Nana Fredua-Agyeman (@freduagyeman)

In Nomine Dei

Are we really killing each other,
In the name of a God or gods that exist
somewhere between our minds and the unfathomable skies?

"Why can’t we all get along?"
After seven days of work,
God won’t break his extended sabbatical,
To come settle petty squabbles
Over resources that abound.

Live and let live.

What’s next,
After power drunk leaders,
Drop their shorts,
In testosterone fueled teenage rage,
Shouting,
My gun is bigger than yours?

*****August 4, 2014*****

The Coming of Age

And so we hallucinate in a room of fogged mirrors,
Lost in the reverie of youthful exuberance,
It could be that we were lost to our own errors,
But maybe it’s the wisdom in the folly of our senseless runs.

The coming of age;
It is a thing which I’d rather waited.

In this drunken stupor, time is lost to us,
We at last succeed in seducing mistress time,
To slow down that we may step of the bus,
For what use in this haste to come of age.

The coming of age;
What is the brouhaha all about?

My hungry and destructive mind sits to contemplate about,
The untainted joy of innocent infants enjoying infancy,
My torrid youth chasing ladies that catch my fancy,
As I watch adults sweetly enjoy their adultery.

The coming of age;
Is it what they say it is?

Ours is a time of perceived invincibility,
We are mythological heroes and time is nemesis; hubris,
We can’t, we shan’t, we refuse to bow,
The coming of age, what is to be come of this age?

The coming of age;
There has to be a way out.

Oh, how I would that Michelangelo scu…

Do You Note

Do you note, How in dreams, worlds take on new powers, In ways awashed with vibrant colours?
You leap off cliffs of sanity, And cherubs await lest feet dash on rocks, Or You call wings like they already were And fly into realms only you dare It’s your world, you decide.
Do you note, When dreams come together, How much richer reality tastes in retrospect, As if the most vivid dream were naught but gray-scale forgeries And sleep but an inept fortune teller?
Chipping at the marble of amorphous dreams, how muscles ache with frustrated strikes, how sweat and tears is bitter perfume, that beg of you to lay down tools, conceding dream to altars of doubt

but do you note, when in diligence you travail, Reality is a masterpiece unmatched by dreams?

 *****November 3, 2014*****

Jaded

Everyday,
I see kids die on the news;

Unblinking,

I change to sports,
Less dying kids,
More rich spoilt brats.

*****July 10, 2014*****

The pot bellied Ethiopian swimmer in the Olympics is making more headlines globally than the over 100 killed in riots in Addis this week — Tom Makau (@tommakau) August 10, 2016




She Is Not You

She is not you, her asymmetrical coy smile no match for the gleaming perfection on your face, and when I stare into her eyes, I see a wounded soul your unfathomable eyes always held mysteries and I lost myself knowing their stories.
She is not you; you are diamond, you captivate my eyes, she is coal, she stains my soul.
She's not you, sometimes when I kiss her, our heads bump, her nose gets in the way, we are relearning the basics and laughing at ourselves.
With you it was natural, everything came easy, maybe that's why we didn't try enough.
She is not you; Our bodies do not jigsaw perfect fit, we are two rough rocks weathering away to smoothness. I fear we'll burst in flames from the frantic friction before we are through knowing each other...
but the heat is nice.
She's not you, but that is not such a bad thing.
*****March 10, 2014*****

Afeke (by Atta-Atta Brown)

Mother says that life is a loan
Be not too worried that you paid up early

It is death that is childish
He does not know how to collect his debts

By Atta-Atta Brown (@peterattabrown)