Friday, July 22, 2011

Breathe

You needn't tell me
I know what breathlessness is

comforthealingandjoy.com
Tell me it will get better
Broda, it just went worse.

Your getup is not complete today
Why did you leave your smile in a safe?

Your 'friend' came here again
Tales were told
Don't ask me what

Are you here again?
Today  no 1 cedi for you oo,
Masa, go find some job do.

So you! this 'chosh' kenkey too you won chop some?

With grumblings in my head
I walk the world with a smile on my face.

Keep to the right, keep to the right
The left people are coming by.

I know BREATHLESS
I gasp that first breath.


broda: play on the word Brother
masa: play on the word Master
Cedi: Ghanaian currency
chosh: small

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Yin & Yang

Another June 21st and I am alive and kicking. THANK YOU LORD!
I turned 27 today; still haven't gotten around to learning how to drive. The excuse is when I had the time, I had no money and now that I have the money, I have no time. Ironic!
Extremely high point of the last year; I have a job; Hurrah!
Low point: Are you there God\? It's me, Tetekai.

Furthest of my mind the thought of you play
Warmest of my heart love of you incinerate
Clutching arms wrap in tight embrace
Swiftest feet swing me on dance

Spin a yin
Add a yang
Balance

Songstress alive
Music arise
Make laughter abound

POP!

Saturday, June 18, 2011

This is My Country

Moving through the streets
Accra Poly to Arena
On stark cold pavement
Infront of padlocked barricaded stores
A neat line of bodies wrapped in cloth
Thin sheath cloths providing little protection
Against malaria mosquitoes, blight cold air

this is my country

I am reminded of times of old
Scurrying to Post Office
Across Makola School of Law, groups of young men
Wafting through noses, wisp strains of smoke of hemp
With mouths as incinerators

This is my country

Today I saw an arm wrapped protectively around a small form
That arm conveyed peace, safety

This is my country

A man sleeps on a 'trock' (pronounced the Ga way) in-front of a shop
Sleep man, you know not what tomorrow brings.
Take heart man; sleep

This is My Country

Rain, be at bay tonight
Mensima knows not where mama is
Wofa K came for mama again
Maybe she will come tomorrow
And not two days late like last time

THIS IS MY COUNTRY

Holding a wake?
For the dead?
Forget not the living
Hold a wake for us
Then hold wakes no more


THIS IS MY COUNTRY!

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Itsdelta's Trapped In Defiance; Fleeing From Conformity

This is from Delta, the author of this blog I started following. I read this post from her that confirms observations I have made about the feminism movement and like her, my past rejection about the label. Being a feminist is not a bad word.
Delta echoes my sentiments on feminism. Please take time and read her post.

Extracts from the post :
"By wearing the label of feminist, it appears ours is a task of fleeing from conformity but in our flight we are incarcerated by our defiance."


"Where then is this freedom we are clamoring for? While we refuse to be defined in terms of blackness, we automatically find that our deviation is itself a cage in which we have to ‘conform’ to certain concepts."


"I have found out that my brand of feminism does not preoccupy itself with fighting men, man-made institutions, customs, rituals and traditions."

The link to the post :
http://itsdelta.wordpress.com/2011/05/18/trapped-in-defiance-fleeing-from-conformity

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Toasting To Memories

Some phased together memories that may never fade
Now I immortalize in words.

Semanseman (Officials from the School of Hygiene) went away.
Our house was never fined; you had ingenious ways for hiding things,
But no matter where, I found them.

The day I wanted my nails cut;
Busy in the middle of something, 'later' you told me.
It was inspection at school the next day, I tell you.
Armed with a pesewa, I purchased a brand new razor blade,
The rest became an ever-present remainder of my pigheadedness for the next twenty-three years'
Oh, my big toe came off to reveal a new layer,
And my little toe finally got some nail on it.

Remember the time I walked in on you and Dad,
I wanted a bath because I had slept earlier that day without taking one.
By the way, I now know what you were about.

I had jerry curls in créche

I hope that wasn't money you gave to my teacher at kindergarten,
I never use the school's toilet anyway
'Why do I have to bring toilet paper?'
I rightly told her.

Mrs Addico was really mean.
I had to cut off all my lovely natural hair before going to class 3.
I love that Big Sis hot combed my hair into afro, my last day in class 2.

Then you became my barber.
I took the coolest hair cuts to school.

My menarche
You boiled an egg
I swallowed it whole
Tradition, I was told.
A symbol of celebration and a naive belief of replacement.

What can I say mum?
You are there when most needed
And then some.

The first,
Love, breakup, and everything in between.

I am waiting, Mamaa
For the day you come back
Come home to where the river is not locked up
And people do not dry themselves up like cocoa beans
When the sun is out.

Memories.

Forty Days And Nights- Day 3

You are just begging to be stolen, ain't you?
Everything you do point to the fact.
Nod; say yes.
You wish will come true.
I will oblige.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Watching Not Waiting

I watch you watching me,
Heave a big sign
Then turn away.
I peek
Catching you, full stare.
Anticipatory tingles run through my palms
Shooting tangential streams of delight
Perusing my body.

Turn away
This is not logical
Weaving dreams in the air.