They put red tape over lifes speaker.
All that is real is now lost.
They try to supress you,
Replace all you are with lies.
They want to make you all one being.
They fear the rise of a greater power.
They fear freedom and individuality fore it is the birthplace for rebellion.
The brainchild of longevity.
They hollow out your mind,
Make you numb inside.
So raise your voice,
Burn the tape.
Life is calling,
Shout out in reply!
I'm in great depression
in life that is my main obsession
it holds me like I am their own possession
wants me to say "I'm fine" instead of my real emotion
keeps my feelings with succession
comes out of nowhere & attacks me with such aggression
only leads me to one direction
sadness, madness, numbness, & no other kind of expression
I tried to say my confession
of how it goes through progression
at times it gives me an impression
that I'll be better soon, instead I am left with its domination
also tells my mind to have some session
speaks to me all about my imperfection
it gets scary in there with all the tension
saying I am some sort of infection
that needs to be a suspension
eternally telling me a suggestion
for all it wants to mention
is to end it all & leave everyone out with no some sort of connection
so it will leave me hanging with no protection
to vanish myself in front of a mirror & see my own reflection
of how I'm not such a great exception
and I'm not at all a perfection
The rain-Gods should
Give this greenhorn a reason
To why pain could
Appear this green-corn season,
Which baboon will make a sound
If the rich moon cannot be found?
Sometimes we play all day
Making sure that the clay
Does not decay,
But now our rock had bend
And who will lock and mend,
Ah, send the Gods a plea,
And it will end the cods a sea,
For the fear of might is oppression
Whiles the tear of night of derision
But nothing inside will look so strong
If something outside looks so wrong
Is this ice of life so conscious?
Maybe the price of life is so precious,
Men of Kush!
Have a pen for push
And never harm the Gods arm,
For their charm grows your farm,
The debtors have broken the palm-vine
Causing the ancestors to drink the palmwine
Indeed, what life sees as pain,
Must be given to death to explain.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Humans are demons to creatures
With whom we inhabit the land.
And the sea of course,
We destroy their life source,
No one is exempt from the wrath of man.
How does it feel to be a monster?
A plague on this fragile earth?
That can't support our greed
Or our irrelevant needs.
Who are we to judge an animal's worth?
To look into an animal's eyes
And say our actions are justified
Requires more denial
Than is my style.
I can't support the way they died.
We treat animals like commodities.
Use them for food, sport, game.
It isn't quite right
To crush them with our might.
The way we treat them is a shame.
So when you ask me
Why I choose this life
Maybe you'll see
Animals should be free
From the human inflicted strife.
Oppression Ownership Poem
Why do we lead our hearts by the hand
into our lovers' volatile elements
quicksand mixed with fire
Why do we blame it on desire
say the heart wants what it wants,
but mine doesn't want this at all
Alleviating your hearts of guilt and shame
because they're doing it perfectly.
to fall in love and be willing to take set backs
Let's take a step back.
Give our hearts back their guilt and ownership
over the oppression of a heart beat you can control
but actually choose not to.
It is the sound of a heart beating,
Now we've fixed it
the problem we couldn't solve
but don't absolve
yourself of sin yet
We've got another oppression needing to be handed over
false ownership we play pretend.
rather than play in a playground with each other.
we blame another for our oppression
but right now in this room
I am the only one holding a broom
trying to tell you that you can't sweep it out
out of your mind
or cover it up with doubt.
I'm not saying don't blame society for creating systems of privilege.
I'm not saying that we don't live in a world that is filled with a sickness
a sickness in some to say that like this we can't keep on living,
and we have
and we cannot and have not
given up on each other, just on ourselves
with every breath we use to utter
that famous druther
that we are victims.
needing to be fixed.
that the world wants to see us suffer
that we can't own our emotions they are far too mixed
with envy and rage and the deepest sorrow anyone could never know.
but I do know,
I do know
I do know
no I don't.
I don't know but that's for you
to figure out
How to feel oppression
but don't keep it under ownership
instead let it out.
squeeze it out through your soul
before it gets to take its toll
you have too much to do on this planet
or even on mars, somewhere far up when you reach the stars
because you shine brighter than bullets baby.
when they get shot and hit something leaving a lasting impact.
you pierce through the hull of a steel ship
with that wicked bite of your lip
when your silver tongue speaks golden beauties.
to my wicker ears eager to be burned
with the splendid delight of your brilliant vocalizations
shouting, screaming, taming, keeping an eye opening message.
that you do not own your oppression and thus it does not own you neither.
because you lived it but it is not your life
like your heart
when you felt it
but did not control it
not because it was out of your control,
but because you chose to set it free,
and so too,
you should be,
rise above your society.
Breathe in and blow everything out of proportion
A manic artist versus the abstract composition
In my head this all looked as perfect as imagination
The challenge was blending the line between fantasy and reality
To get the inner critic to agree
Worlds colliding this one into the next
Dreams manifested to the forefront
of a visionary gone inside himself
Throwing myself against the walls of my mind
In an attempt to think outside the box.
Even in our own heads they've got us on lockdown
With the chemical constraints constricting creativity
These straightjackets of sorts
Straightening out the free-thinkers
A fourth wall broken
Pretentions are high
On the artist's plane
Subjectively selling ourselves out to a shallow medium
The water we should be walking on
We're drown out in.
Drawn into the background of the bigger picture.
It happened when I left home,
that I came across this fact;
Summer was murdered
and I didn’t care.
Like the never ceasing ticks of a cheap watch,
merciless protesting, and I play the conservative
atop a mountain of shit? [I can’t save anything].
I left home a loser and came back a martyr.
I am vulgarity and purity in the same essence.
I bleed and I congeal. I am the prodigal son
with bleeding extremities and a worn mind.
I’ve seen so very much.
Has taken on
A life of it's own
It has become purpose
It is wired
With rules and regulations
Written for compliance
For blind obedience
For it's own perpetuation
The cold machinations
Have no desire
Other than purpose
To survive and grow
And we, we are
The gnashing gears
To aid the machine
And make it
To who gives a shit;
I left all my opportunities behind once.
I’ve broken hearts, many actually,
and I even had mine broken.
I dropped the dice and lost almost
as many times as I’ve won.
I’m surviving though, aren’t I?
I’m not sure whether I should celebrate
in a suit or in a corner somewhere.
I haven’t collected dust.
I haven’t grown moss.
Are you proud of me?
I didn’t have to step on anybody,
because I didn’t want to go anywhere.
Some can argue I’m cheap, or someone
who despises the mediocrity of responsibility.
I think we’ve all dreamt of wandering though,
and I wonder how many of us didn’t have a
choice in the matter. You can tell the
difference in whose looking for
vacation and whose looking