Sunday, December 28, 2014
Friday, December 19, 2014
we met for another first time.
peacocking arrays of borrowed savoir-faire.
Friday, November 28, 2014
and at night
behind the shadow of the moon
we digested scripts
so we prayed not to fall prey
"how great thou, art"
into the muddy mirror,
we gazed all day
at night the dogs' belch blew back dogma;
beliefs sold on trays, or
3D dimensions of coins
tossed into charity's hands
stolen by Caesar, as always
as eyes kept closed
try to attract God with noise
Sunday, October 19, 2014
And your arrow-darting glance,
I ask to know if dreams are pupils in your eyes?
Undressing thoughts with your gaze,
When you bear flowers from your lips
When my fingers tap dance on the vase of your hips
(c)KW 19Oct2014 [edit - 18Dec2014]
Friday, September 19, 2014
Our brave voices soar
When night echoes in the mud walls of destiny,
Our songs echo horizontally through ear tunnels
We the daughters dueling in beauty of dark reason
Carving the aroma of music with our conscience,
The brilliance of our resistance-
Warm like sunlight footsteps
The re(love)ution is seen dotted in our eyes -
Pupils of life,
Guarding justice where the fence makers are jaundiced
Words as agile as soul
Peace signs are anchors
No violence, but no silence
We the children sunning the seasoned shores
Our brave voices soar
Our songs echo on
(Tribute to #Ferguson ..Above is the poetry procession performance curated by Inkfluent for Chale Wote Festival 2014 #Ghana ..Photo credits - Cecile Johanet)
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Wherever a facet
Of the blade of liberation struggle
Stuck out in the mud of grief,
Wherever the marrows of the souls
Kept down echoed a plead for relief,
Dirges with choruses of daisy-dyed verses
Intercepted at the dock of slaved throats,
Whichever non-constructive contradictions-
Contraceptives choking candid consciences
Conceptualized to con consistently
Keeping craniums of hope cracked cold
Whenever, we find us
Trailing the doctrines of thawed bones
Aside jaws clobbered close by weight of uncooked constitutions
In a silent moist war, babysat over economies
Lulled with lullabies of liquid currencies
Wherever we lost belief in our own,
Mundane with moldy motivation
Rapture-ing spirit of our matured monologues
Whomever will read our lips,
We reach out again in the span of our youth
We carve our revolution
From the discarded wood of history,
(c) KW 16.09.2014
Saturday, July 05, 2014
Friday, June 20, 2014
the morning catches me
consumed, counting gold dust
the moon shared with me this bed-
goddess of a glow,
holding the sun in the valley of my palms;
a candlelight at your subtle wake
what binds us must be one and same
as that which holds earth to sky
and cosmic winds to the feet of a fly
crazy and sane
my neck falling back
catching yellow dreams by ear
naked streams vaporize from vein,
for me but you Wacko Jacko sang "speechless"
and Monroe put relevant sexy in the '50s
nobody but I had an eye to the moon
nobody but you was the moon in that room
Thursday, June 19, 2014
don't be perturbed
seal effortlessly like a clam
clamp your fingers to my back
as we do this no-movement dance
pin your chin to my shoulder
let's share smiles in opposite directions
and radiate our world
let's pause the wind's magic
we're a wand the earth holds in hand
in the sacred moment
let's be Siamese
as we entangle like wet straw
sharpened by the seasons,
our freezing unthawed
our reason unflawed
for we believe in sharing..
we receive in giving
we believe in living.
Friday, March 07, 2014
And when you shut your eyes
What colour of blood?
What scenes of genes?
What length of loops in your DNA?
What's caged up in your cells?
What size of chromosomes
Do you measure
When mitosis is viewed closest
Under a microscope's eye
At your leisure?
And when the sun bounces off your skin
What colour of shadow too?
What comfort zone?
What history of ancestry?
How white is your Jesus?
How black is your Antoa?
How yellow is your Budha?
Or Muhammed what colour?
Do they treat you different
When your epidermis is frisked?
Do you feel better about yourself
For your accent is crisp?
Between race and social constructs
Your own conscience, what shade?
Tuesday, March 04, 2014
Germinating off cremation ash in cold ceramics;
Life for some.
Lybia, you know the grass does not promise to stay green
Where gossip by earth to wind
Is almost soundlessly sneaked
Ear to ear
Time and a few mouthfuls of dirges
Meet and merge
A collage of calabashes have collected enough drunk tears
Where music loses colour
To forever's fingers across the years,
Solitary; moment and mood
Mixed with melancholic vibes
Dimming from a distance
The light history throws
In three dimensions, traversing through twelve songs,
The ones clocks tell
Till night cuts away harsh sun's voice
Let dusk find these longing words
On every leaf of lost trees
Next to flowers whispering
Secrets of lonely beauty