The Song of Solomon

Since I became your spouse the snob of society became meaningless.

Of course, you ought to know, I voted you my President.

The trees stopped dropping their leaves.

Yes, I gave you a garden of evergreens.

But the birds have not stopped singing.

Because my griots serve you with perpetual interest.

Witness now my name on every lip in the country.

No surprise! I jammed their wavelength with my broadcasts.

I never went hungry.

Not since I became your daily bread.

Never went thirsty either.

How can you when my forest well has been reserved for you only?

Nor have I been lonely.

No darling, I gave you a piece of me to take everywhere.

Even when I bought no jewels for you?

Honey, what can be more precious than your teeth in smiles?

So you see why I waited for you?

But was there another option for a God-appointed waiter?

And our love has not ended in the mouth.

No!  I even feel it in my phalanges and frame.

See how you promoted me—the Easter lily of the plains!

And so have you promoted me—the apple being chewed inside your ears!

You are a garden of roses of the colours that matter to the heart!

You are a bundle of harvesters that know what matters to the heart!

Your garments smell of Paris in the evening!

Your lips taste of chocolate from Accra!

Your two breasts are the torches that give my body direction!

You are the palm tree I was waiting to climb for nourishing oil!

Can heaven be different from what I know?

What you allow me to share is a foretaste of heaven.

So, for better for worse?

I’ll be the code for your conduct.

For richer for poorer?

I’ll be your tax collector.

In sickness and in health?

I will drug you on.

Is this how we pray today?

And everyday.

                     Aaaaah men!

The Psalms

David the classical bard

Like Shakespeare has taken control

Of less-known pens of his times

To be known as the Great Bard

What jaw-breaking competence

To master singing weeping

Among peoples of great grief

To praise God in this tense

Did I really plead with shame

That my sins be cast away

And yet continued to sin

Seeking others there to blame

Yes I did and yes I did

And in each case quite sincere

Teaching holy wood their game

Until Bathsheba is weed

Scattered hymns of great praises

Scattered hymns of meditation

Scattered hymns of lamentation

Scattered hymns of thanksgivings

And here we know Shepherd God

And here we know Justice God

And here we know Doctor God

And here we know Faithful God

Why do people break such ranks

Why do people ram and rage

Why do people trust in self

Why do people trust in banks

O Lord your word says they know

That big bang is in your hand

Yet spread your name like sheet to write on

But you will bless those that become bow

Doubters say there is no God

But look at my hands that praise

And remove blood guilt from them

Praise the Lord alleluia

Ecclesiastes

Can flesh save flesh?

No, it never came to pass.

Can education save man?

No, it never came to pass.

Can philosophy save philosophers?

No, it never came to pass.

Can properties save their owners?

No, it never came to pass.

One generation witnessed the failure of efforts before them,

And said it should never be their lot;

Yet went down the same track to their deadly fall.

Our world can never be short of foolishness!

Those who succeeded in catching the wind,

Also succeeded in catching up with wisdom;

And there is time for every experience under the sun.

But when did men stop being animals?

The beasts do celebrate their work of find,

And men also celebrate their works of oppression:

As they hunt after the wind, after the wind;

But in the hands of two,

Pluriformity gives just one kick to uniformity,

Before beauty is upgraded to a civil status,

And real meaning is donated to celebrants.

Time and again wisdom has admonished:

That one must sell his ears to every speaker

But hoard their mouth for greater profit towards God.

This is not vanity, the top hat of resplendence—

Vanity is the shadow from excess of good to spite evil

And the overcoat of evil that spites good.

However, the fear of God tames the muchness in the least and the most;

Because the fear of God is actual wisdom.

For it is well with your soul when God accepts your works.

Death of the Cotton Trees

Calibrate and report the spirit of hundreds of years

If not thousands

Imagine and determine the victory launch of moments

That overtook wickedness in selected peace

Yes just go backwards and forwards in time

And determine tomorrow from today

A day of actions and non-actions from power realms

Oh yes imagine and imagine

The toilet seats of mountain bats

Abused and bemused bat rights

When the cotton tree is killed by brutal battering

In the morning of someone else’ future

Now I adjure you to move beyond imagination

Of the unimaginable in a kingdom of rights

Springing in sunlight with some rain from abroad

And make an announcement on SLBC

That the spirit of the age-old cotton tree is un-killable

Un-bearable

            Unbendable

                        Unbeatable

                                    Unbreakable

By caterpillars

            Catapulters

                        Cash-dreamers

                                    Sanballats

Assassins

            Hirelings

                        Word engineers

                                    Demi-men

Two life-pumping trees

Could be husband and wife in their right

Until decimated by the killers

Husband and wife killed

In fear of peace talks

In their home

In their road

By developers

Of a new and more appreciable road

In Wilberforce

Of all places—in Wilberforce!

Power in tractor-carrying hands

Have moved the majority to dance to music from the few

In their homes

In their roads

Assassins

Devourers that major in transplanting history

From mountains into valleys under cliffs

                                                      Have just done that

                              And no tear dropped to mourn the twin deaths

Of Mr and Mrs Cotton Tree

Killed in cold blood

                                                Killed in cold blood

                                                Killed in cold blood

Oh mowed story-telling trees

Older than democracy

Older than the stories

Of freedom told in free spirits

What Bard can house your birds

In an ODE never to be untold by non-bards

Who major to wake up peace from sleep

Like she had no brain whatsoever

A CHIEF STAR LEADS FROM BEHIND

The rain showered a cold on the pews
With no leaking roofs and no cracked dews
Like a rare ghost to haunt the saints here
And fever found lodging in my spine

On the plateau of service in trends
The cold crosses the paths of the fence
In snippets of memorabilia
Whether in pews or school books of sort

You will know the footprints of action
The melodious cries of compassion
Once a caring soul passes manners
Like judgement from mediocres in jest

I touched it too in a bout of leads
The star that scratched with meteoric speed
The night sky of pestilence in vogue
While the earth cheered raising mangled fingers

So you see I too can dream like King
Who mellows with daytime spectacles
While I count the stars in the night here
The night with new character gallows

I had a dream then and still do dream
Erect a plaque to say no star streamed
When it was darkest or most gloomy
Except in ideas beyond amends

Sure a tenor out there will sing bass
Yet the bass in here will not chant bass
For when we are not in we are in
And when we are not out we are out

New generations will rise in here
To carry the mantle that dropped
From hands of stars that did not hurry past
Or necks of white-necked birds that wry grin

I don’t mind singing a solo dirge
Or blowing the horn announcing birth
But somehow the world must know of it
That a chief star now leads from behind

beach kites

THERE IS A TURNING IN THE ROAD

There is a turning in the road, trav’ller;
For a willing, courageous and tested flier.

If you must turn to the left of the road,
Do so knowing the world condemns your code.

If you must turn to the right of the same,
Do so knowing that the world takes new blame.

If you must make an about face turn there,
Do so as a trav’ller who knows the fare.

But if you must move on on that same road,
Move, O willing, courageous and tested code.

TOGETHER

You may not like my race
You may not take my face
But if you spot the goal
And would not mind the road
We may hit the field together

You may not like my world
You may not brave my kingdom
But if you touch the choice
And would not mind the noise
We may film the fair together

You may not like me there
You may not picture me here
But if you sense the wave
And would not mind the bait
We may sail the seas together

THE PASTOR CRIED

The Pastor cried each time his Queen giggled
But his Queen laughed to solve the old riddle

It was dark for eyes but not for yielding limbs
So wise and so submissive in the wings

None could see the pouring rain and bright sun
But the feeling was there of duties done

This was before he slept like a baby
And she watched over the newborn HE

THE LESSON

The teacher opened her mouth
And spoke
The children opened their ears
And heard
There was only one key
The lesson

The teacher broke a piece of chalk
And taught
The children broke their pencils
And learnt
There was only one force
The lesson
ONE THING TO REMEMBER ABOUT TEACHING IS THAT THE TEACHER NEVER GROWS OLD. IN FACT SHE GROWS YOUNGER EACH TIME SHE PICKS UP A PENCIL AND OPENS HER MOUTH LIKE ONE OF HER PUPILS.

THE DANCE OF THE NUDE

The picture on my son’s wall violates my visit:
The blues from the wild west with four legs.
In the nude they dance on the wall:
I can’t guess when that drawing entered his poll,
Entered my son’s poll,
To find a place on the western wall of his parlour.

I thought my culture was violated upon first sight,
But when I entered the guest room I felt I was raped.
Indeed the nude dance started way back,
When his father said don’t misbehave or I’ll send you away…
From decency … Away!
From heaven to hell, from this Ka to that Ka.

And the day I stepped outside to view the sea,
Four legs danced on the porch like they came down from the wall:
Four human legs of equal shape and length as those on the wall.
And there too the walls were loaded so much,
With the nude parade so much
As coming from abroad like my learned son.

I am a prisoner of conscience within these walls,
And my youth-age visits me with a raised axe:
So I ask, what did I deprive you of in those days?
I denied you cinema going in good faith my love,
But not study time my love,
So I draw a clean landscape not a dirty mindscape.

But here this returnee has chained our landscape
And introduced multifaceted hills to the plain,
Thereby raping even the breast that gave him bread.
But what will weeping do to a drunken son in the nude?
Only sharpen his pencil of nude!
But that new drawing will not violate my eyes, never!

STONY AIDS

A battle to fight
A war to win
with stones
dead stones
living stones
In your hands
And in my hands too

A very hard stone
A healing stone
Of AIDS
In AIDS
With AIDS
Has killed the virus
And the world is healed

I carried the virus
When I fired the stigma
So positive
So activist
So upbeat
Against you brother
And yet it was I who died

When I dropped the stigma
I dropped the virus
So positive
So activist
So upbeat
In support of you sister
And I’m so much alive

Peace Talk

Mr. Prime Minister, Mr. President,
I am your President.

My name is Abraham, your father;
I love my family—as your father.

Jews, can you see me?
Arabs, can you see me?

Your peace is my peace!
Your pain is my pain!

Warn your children,
Not to go behind me.

Hatred is on my back,
Poverty is on my back.

NOBLE PRIZE

For guessing the correct answer,
You have a ticket to Mars!
Remember though
you don’t need a bath towel
you don’t need dollars …

And please take the space tongue
Before departure.
Period

Remember too
As soon as you shoot out
You move into statehood
And your word bears a flag
Unlike your bluff walk so rude

Hallo!
Over and out!

I too, have got shoes

Have you seen shoes on children here 
No shoes for other children 
No shoes for your children 
My uncle said to my dad 

I lost my shoes—small shoes 
from then on 
My feet crushed the thorns 
from then on 

The city was taken from me 
But not me from the city 
from then on 

Many years later my shoe remover died 
And I got back my shoes 
Bigger shoes—for crushing thorns 
from then on 

I cat walked in them 
And went to bed in them 
from then on 

I got the city back 
Even when I stayed there 
from then on 

Believe me I too have got shoes 
And I slip my feet in them 
But not for sleep anymore 
Yes I too have got shoes 

Other children wear shoes 
My children wear shoes 
Wear shoes why not 
Why not why not why not why not 

Shoes in the cot 
Shoes to school 
Shoes to the market 
Shoes to the office 
Why not wear shoes

How Are The Mighty Fallen (2 Samuel 1: 19-27)

19. All your glories, O Africa, are perishing on your heights. 
O, how did this happen? 

20. Publish it not in the streets of your exploiters, 
Those whose love can only enslave you, 
Before their daughters compose denigrating songs round your name. 

21. O mountains of vain elitism, 
May the bloody jewels you wear, 
Become hangmen’s ropes around your necks; 
And actually behead you. 
For it is with those heads that you dream of beheading others, 
Robbing us of all good heads. 

22. So many great muscles from the soil 
Have not returned from the dirty fields 
But dived in new soils sometimes by friendly blows. 

23. Need I name your loyal slaves? 
In life and in death they were African matter. 
Their new names ripped their tongues and lips 
For fun of the game. 

24. O daughters of Africa, 
Weep for your heroes, 
Those that fed you with proverbs around the harvest fire, 
When the forest swung to your tunes of love. 

25. But how did we lose those mighty stuff? 
No, they sleep on your height, they are not lost! 

26. Your eulogies are spoken in my blood. 
For if I ever knew love, 
You were my first teacher, 
My conscientiser. 

27. How indeed the mighty have fallen! 
I wish you had become a pacifist, 
For the weapons from carnal hands will not last!

GOD THE POET

God is my greatest Poet 
Because 
He nearly bursts my eardrums 
When He drums the words 
I AM 
I fix the metres of the world 
And keep spreading the rhythm 
Of my stars 
Period

God’s Star

God’s star

Is hiding behind God’s shadow

When the advancing sea

Collides with the returning sea

The unending music of an evening train

Washing with litter the sand on shore

The stars on my left

At Juba

And the stars on my right

At Cape Sierra

Signal the presence of night

Where I face the hiding star

With my lover

A million sea shells locate my wavelength

And chorus “Thanks for calling”

My star

Will soon shine

On my steps

The Vote Against AIDS

Our vote against ill health

Is a vote for world health

Our vote against AIDS

Is in aid of full health

Our vote for ill health

Is a vote for world death

Our vote supporting AIDS

Is in aid of full hell

Where we pledge for world health

Letter to Mandella: 11th February, 1990

Once in

            Some in you go in with you

            Your self

Your family

Your land

Sacrificing with you

Once out

            Some in you come out with you

            Your self

            Your family

            Your land

            Forgiving with you

One thing

            Yet knows no suffering

            Knows no boundaries

            Whether in our out of holes

            Is your voice crowned

You know

            All life in him

            All light in him

            All present in him

            All future in him

Standing free

            In your black

            In your white

            In your family

            In your land

Saves the land

So, brother, hold on!

Savage or Cabbage

Call me a savage

But give me a chance

To grow like you

And be a cabbage

Silence Please!

Your voice bounces through the building,

From bottom to top:

It hit my eardrums,

On the seventh floor,

And deadened my brain.

If you joined the choir,

You would sing bass;

But this building

Opts for another voice—

                        Silence!

Will you cast your vote?

spent jokes on them are really on you

spent

and done

you can go now

emancipation will dance

on your head hands and feet

fly into that colourless world body

your maker awaits your entry

emancipation will dance

on you like on them

go and be

spent

jokes

head first

then the rest

what you leave behind

is not yours but ours and theirs

jump out of this colourful world body

your friends await your approach

this is graduation for you

and them before you

not acted

jokes

on

switch on

those dead batteries

farewell to grave indifference

you now eat and drink to your maker

your last meal or dance have no wings for the flight

they are truly the meal and dance of worms

the first-tier welcome for a celebrity

dead batteries come alive

as you go

on

them

the object

of a spent force

are not forgotten there or here

regardless your acquired senile jargons

just leave them behind but also meet them ahead

your maker views your smartness there

with sheer shame and lament

denounce the punches

and you have

them

are

you there

theorist mathematician

your turn is here to be there

no retractions of aberrations body

the greatest of the great will welcome you

as he did solomon caulker before

davidson nicol as you choose

as their callings were

so yours

are

really

really really

a surprise awaits you

who walk on your blistered hands

like you would pick up spoons with jigger toes

god was quick to announce his shocks when he made you

no regrets just move on and take your place

golden outfits and tools galore

unlike those behind you

go and enjoy

really

on

then body

onto lower heights

to impregnate the unfertilised

then to higher heights to abort your babies

move on body in solemn answer to that great call

no denying to float a well-spiced body

no denying to float a hopeful soul

your gift of shoes

and robes are

on

you

is death

but me is life

or the beginning of life

for good eyes and ears and heart

spent jokes on them are really on you

journey with it on anxious feet

all queries fall on their backs

because me is life a-

gainst death for

you