Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Forgive me father, for I am consumed by sin
I am sorry I nearly jumped into bed with those cute triplets when we were drunk off a bottle of gin
I had licked my lips at the outcome; laying back after coitus bliss with a couple of rubbers in a bin
But father, looking back, I know it was nothing but temptation, temptation, temptation; nothing but sin
Forgive me for lying to the svelte girl by name of NA
The reader is probably thinking I’ve spelt Naa wrongly, but no, I stress on NA
It’s true I didn’t cheat on her; that, in my head, I pushed it to the rear
But you know I never had the Learjet, or that yellow Ferrari and the ten bedroom mansion I brazenly drummed into her ear
Oh father, it was a lie birth out of love; one that generated from fear of loosing someone dear
I apologize for letting my lies smear her pretty face with tears
I am so sorry my stubborn nature causes my mother so much pain
I pray by Your power, You’ll wipe away the slightest trace of rain
I’m sorry for the advice I gave Kwasi, when Akosua wanted something serious, and he just wanted to play
I’m sorry for giving him that lame advice; that to get free off her, he should tell her he’s turned gay
I’m sorry for blocking my ears to the call of that old man I love dearly
Although he’s troublesome with his advice, I know his words are spoken sincerely
I’m sorry for not remembering all the other sins I’ve committed, currently
I pray they will be forgiven, so I’ll look away from them fervently
Now, Father, since by faith I know my sins are forgiven
I’ll like to say a prayer for the one reading this note and my other brethren
Because I don’t want to go to heaven alone
I’d very much like for all of us to sing with the angels near your throne
Now, you! Yes you! Why did you tell that cute boy you are single?
When only four gates down the lane, the one who makes your heart levitates made you giggle
And my male brethren, don’t laugh and say mmmhhhmmm
Why do you keep checking on other women’s butts, even when you’re walking with your boo under the moon
Especially when she has a nice, big one too
Father, forgive the brothers and sisters who drink and sleep gossip, but read the Bible
The same folk who go to church every Sunday and claim they are Christians like it’s a title
Father, forgive the husbands who’ve committed adultery with over hundred different women
Those who want to surpass David; those whose cells the roots of lust are intricately woven
Father, forgive that man with big, frog-like eyes who flashed that charming smile at me in front of the brown gate and made me believe in him
To the extent that I told him everything, not knowing his specialty was killing dreams
But I’m grateful I have you Father, thank You for setting me free off him
And that big-mouthed woman too; the one who told on me
When I confided in her and let her in on my secrets without a toll or fee
Oh, Father, please forgive that fat woman who has the ability to be a Samaritan; to help me cross the flooded gutter
But she shakes her head repeatedly, and says, “no, no, no… Homie, you don’t matter.”
Father, I know the list is getting long
But I know that young, beautiful woman who has shown several married men her worn out thong
Eeehhh, his wife can’t spend all his money alone seems to be her song
Oh God, and then there are the boys who pursue girls solely for their luscious booty
And girls who stalk sugar Daddy’s and spread at the snap of a finger for money
Throwing to the wind their precious dignity
Oh, I nearly forgot the Kojo Besia’s, strutting the streets searching for a different hole, Oh my God, my heart breaks at the iniquity
I understand it’s a stinking world, but Father, we are Your children, so please forgive with ease
Please forgive the hypocrites (especially the foreign commentators) who doubted the Black Stars
But now, they’ve joined the band wagon, singing they will go far
And Father, although for the sake of creativity
Most of the above writings are exaggerated greatly
Some, even to the level of absurdity
Father, I bow my head and cross my self, praying You’ll wash away all our tiniest iniquities
And make us born again in total tranquility.

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010

Echoes from the Ghetto

Widening ripples form beneath your feet
Thick laces of warm tears crawl down your cheeks
Gently stroking your face, painting pictures, and leaving traces of a heart that bleeds within
The gloom of the slowly dominating twilight matches your mood, as the sun hastens to flee
The wooden bridge you sit on feels your pain, and in solidarity, it creeks
As the wind moans sadly on the banks, disturbing the leaves
Hairs within your nose caress each other, bracing themselves for the mucus to tickle as it leaks
Your facial features contort repeatedly, giving you the look of a jester electrocuted by mean electric cells
Your cranium is in turmoil as your brain cells shift into overdrive, trying to remember when the guillotine fell
Intuition failed to alert, you would have summoned the faintest breath in your lungs, and let out an ear-piercing yell
To warn me what we shared was being severed at its neck
Like a crab’s shell, at a price perilous to you, you were prepared to protect me from impending wreck
But in hindsight, you now realize I was being just a crab: strolling clumsily without its head
Indifferent and thinking of everything except you, and how to make it safely to the comforting deck
Now, like an epiphany, it dawns on you, and you remember vividly
A couple of flips of the calendar in reverse, looking back
When I was at the summit of the mountain at a game park
Infested with lionesses and their starving cubs
And you needed my help in the form of a pull
I had only dusted my feet, and watched you hang on to the rope with weak, thin wool
Oh yes, and there was the time when depression tossed you her ugly dress
And you only needed to talk to me, but I covered my ears and shut my eyes to your tears
You looked up to me like a close friend does, I was your role model times three
But brazenly, with a steel-molded heart, I looked down on you as if you were nothing but a troubling flea
Now you are certain all along, to me, what we shared had been nothing but building waves, rolling forth with haste, only to break feebly at the shore
When the world fetched ear plugs and turned silent, when everyone was too busy for you and you needed me to tell you an uplifting lore
I chuckled at your plight, and said you were a waste of time; a total bore
When your intestines burned with tear-inducing hunger
I belched after eating fufu-ne-abe-nkwan+a-grand-
And to the dogs and cats, I fed the left over
I yawned, tossed in my bed and readied my self for a nice slumber
Then came the turning point: you slept too, after tossing and turning in bed with a rumbling stomach, and had a nightmare of me with a knife at your ribs
Sleep forced a window for you to escape from having your lungs punctured, and you woke up at this weak, water-soaked bridge
The boat that is patiently waiting to take you to the other town gives you a wink
It moves in the direction of subtle currents, promising you it won’t sink
You don’t want to hop into it; it stings your heart to do this
But you know you need to take this trip
You’ll cross the river now, and put some distance between you, and my head-splitting politics
You wanted a friend, but all I offered was another indifferent individual with a bag full of empty promises

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010

Sugar Daddy

Otoolodu's pot belly with numerous folds, struggles to stay comfortable beneath the steering wheel
His loins are siezed with unquenchable lust, his brain, ever so active, imagining how loud she'll squeal
Brutish fantacies, yes, but one he looks forward to with zeal
The silence of the behemot star littered sky is disturbed by the eerie hoot of an owl on a quest for a meal
Akosua is pregnant at home, taking care of their two year old, bored and yearning for what was once real
A time when they complimented each other like tires and wheels
When the mere mention of her name caused his body to react as if it was being attacked by a shoal of electric eels
In his mind, the past is folded like a peice of worthless carpet, and masterfully, he conceals
The true fact of what molded him into the colossus he is today
Conscience should prick, but it's inactive, battered and shattered, incapable of replay
The tides turn, an exchange of opposite fortunes - a life of strife, for a life of grace
A farce, tasteless mockery of the good hearted, because now, all he does is spit in her face
There's no such thing as love what so ever, it's gone, left without a trace
Psychological warfare, Akosua disadvantaged and weakened, because her heart brims with love
Coupled with mother's advice; everything below, only him above
Parrallel bank accounts going in divergent directions; hers, once always in credit
Now, she starves, perpetually stuck in the zone of debit
Otoolodu pulls over at Maame Yaa's house and douses his Audi's light
His brows furrow, and his pulse races at the sight
Of entangled silohettes moving eroctically in the dark, and he readies himself for a fight
Not only money is invested, but a huge chunk of his heart, because the sensations Maame yaa sends through his veins makes him feel like a soaring kite
His limbs are taken over, totally consumed by tremulous vibes
He walks closer, past the lawn mower, fears are confirmed, with moans of those currently of the estatic tribes
Sillohettes transform to known figures, as his eyes gets acclimatized to the dark
Only last week, half his savings was blown on a diamond chain, so he could see her delicate neck lit up in the car park
Chaotic thoughts run through his head, they didn't even have the decency to do it in bed
He stops suddenly, as stroke inducing surprise is thrown into the spinning cauldron
The tightened and frequently contorting face behind Maame Yaa isn't vaguely familiar, it's well known, and his heart breaks into a marathon
He walks closer and clears his throat but he's unheard, as erotic pleasures blocks the ear
He grits his teeth, it's his brother, Kofi, in his favorite position, busy humping from the rear
A desperate cry, one of the breed of anguish and excruciating pain, escapes from him, as he throws his hands up in despair
Nonchalantly, and completely in annoyance, four ecstacy filled eye balls turn to his direction
Maame Yaa tries to pull free, but Kofi holds on tight, he still has an erection
Otoolodu asks why, Kofi ignores him and continues to work brazenly, complete with vim
Maame yaa smiles and drops the lethal bombshell; "I have AIDS, why do you think I've become so slim?"
Kofi's body stiffens, but not in culmination of his sexual exertions
He's unprotected, and this isn't the first time, his heart's veins snap, forever robbing him of a time for reflections
Otoolodu's head becomes dizzy, he's been frequently falling ill lately
But he'd kept telling him self it's nothing, just take it easy
He bury's his face and weeps, as he thinks of his actions that boarders on silly
He feels naked and alone, conscience springs to life, with heart burning thoughts of Akosua, furiously spinning in his mind
Slowly, tears cloud his pupils, making his vision blurry
He looks in the the moon illuminated sky and whispers, "God, please spare my lovely lady and my innocent baby."
A grim tale that patiently awaits a cheating husband and a sugar daddy.

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010

Saturday, July 3, 2010


Sweeping debris left behind by the whirlwind
I see memorabilia that blares in the heart's ear like a fierce ring
My eyes well with tears
I'm at the cross roads of my fears
In a brief instant, time is meaningless, rolling back the years
With a heavy heart, I need to shift through the gloomy gears
Because all I have of the past is mere debris
Empty secretes, and the vile remnants the bleeding heart secretes
A new era dawns
Cant tell kings from pawns
Yes, a complex game of chess
But one I have to embrace with zest
The orient of the east just blessed earth with it's rays
I smile, looking forward to better days
The whirlwind is lost in the pit-less abyss of time's mist
The debris isn't forgotten
Just less significant, locked away in a frozen fist
A safe place that keeps it from being rotten.

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010

African War Drums

Deserted streets, lined with broken bill boards
The trees shriek, and shed leaves, anticipating an acidic rainfall
The asphalt leaks, and reeks of blood from skulls and broken jaws
Faint, but dreadful chants cut through the skin tingling air
Building up slowly, a potent brew of dejection and despair
Witnessing an uncle shot, a father rot, psychological damage that last unrepaired
Strong hearted, but overwhelmed, because she's unprepared
For the odyssey that even grown men feared
The last survivor, alone, scared and shivering, wondering if they ever cared
About anyone besides themselves, and their exotic fares
A tear meanders down her cheeks, her soul weeps, clearly of the knowledge it isn't fair
Certain the instigator is in shoes that gleam, stepping into pompous air
Unscratched, priming up a blood sucking bunch of heartless hiers
It cuts accross, a universal phenomenon of sharp edged swords that taints the world
Her hunger defined cheeks become moist and glisten
Tears rush down her face in pools as she relates to Ann Frank, because only she can listen
The air thinkens with chants that grow louder... louder...
She grits her teeth, sinking her molars deeper into her gums, as if the grind will bring forth a miraculous powder
Thats about as likely as her ever tasting an elixir, but she's said her prayers
She sees cadavers lying on top of each other in layers
And what ever happens, she hopes it's quick and painless
So she can wear a different suit hemmed by angelic tailors
And finally leave this choking place that will forever be in the palm of barbaric sailors.

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010

Hands on the clock

Distant memories, packaged in tornadoes stings the heart
Reminiscing about the bliss, before the teary tear apart
Something unusual; a rare gem
Beauty unflaunted; a stunning hem
Heart shaped velcro straps
Tempting fate to remain apart
Incarcerating pleasures littered in the magical room ajar
Passion, pride, hurt, a churning heart
Now boiling in a cauldron labeled regret
That bird should have never left its nest
Its plumage detached, it's tweeting beak severed,
And it's feet shackled with twines bandits detest.

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010

What's love?

What’s love? Can you tell me?
The head-dizzying flutter of the heart at the mention of your man’s name, maybe?
I ask the question of you, you, and you…Because looking through the magnifying glass, what I’m seeing has me confused, and feeling blue
Is love a four letter word that deludes the head?Or perhaps, it is the anguish that engulfs a mother’s belly at the sight of her sick child with beads of sweat on her forehead, shivering in bed
The smiling face of a brother that contorts quickly, turns around, and stabs you in the back?
Or the voice that says, “Good luck,” but in her head, she wants nothing but for you to stumble and fall in the dark?
Is it the heart piercing sight of your fiancée and your best friend in bed, his phallus in her hands, her eyes closed by ecstasy, while she sucks?
Is it the finger that points quickly, judging, saying, “Oh, he’s such a fool,”
But in the same situation, in the same shoes, you’d only last a mile or two?
Am I hitting too close to home?
Have you done any of these, does it get to your bone?
Could love be listening to your mistress giggle, lying to you you’re a hulk, while your wife cries in the melancholic zone?
Are you saying I should leave you alone?
Oh, but why? Trust me, I don’t mean to cloak your being with guilt
I’m just curious, eager to know if love shares a frontier with choking filth.

Copyright © David Kwakye 2010