May 25, 2015 at 3:27am

Sometimes
you have to
run away from
bad decisions

Most forget
You've got to bring some
*** to kick some ***.
So when you are feigning
for a fight.

Remember to
"lead with your head
and cover your behind."

If all else fails, hopefully
you will come to your senses
and haul *** quickly.

For he that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day;
For he that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day ;

May 25, 2015 at 3:27am

Sometimes
you have to
run away from
bad decisions

Most forget
You've got to bring some
*** to kick some ***.
So when you are feigning
for a fight.

Remember to
"lead with your head
and cover your behind."

If all else fails, hopefully
you will come to your senses
and haul *** quickly.

For he that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day ;
For he that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day ;

That angel is me
I leave; Check on you
cuss - help out
then come back.
that's my conscientiousness
angle of concern
flying over your mind.
Drift,catching your thoughts.

That angel is me
leaving you alone
with yourself (good company)
Accidentally,nothing happens.
We were meant to make mistakes.
So breathe while you still can.

Always ONE down and
two to go when it comes to killing
those demons...
There will always be a human Angel
Assigned to guard your feelings.
So breath while you still can.

That angel for a few of you is me.!
If you feel me then say "I Do".
I will be back in a few...
leaving my flesh again -
flying on a wavelength
leaping hither and thither...
seeking the consciousness
of like minds.

This Angel does not
wrestle with man nor
time.....Even with the ones
to whom I've been assigned.

Oh, I Am the angel who serves
love in my writes - Whom backs
up the love with action not talk.
Who knows when to fly
with you, or when to walk.
So breathe, breathe deeply
while you still can.

Sharon why do you come?
Sharon you were not my
Confidant nor my peer
Could you be some long
Transcended
Ancestors;
You are the only
One who has come,
More than one time.
Met you in this lifetime,
When you were here.
My ***** partner
Sometimes.
It would seem likely.
Family would look in..
But it's Okay, that it's you,
You're the only
One that has
Made it known.. that
Every goodbye
Ain't gone. One day
More will be revealed
As to the meaning
Of your communication;
As you seem the most unlikely
To attach yourself to my soul station.
“Sharon, Why have you come"?

A poem by

Vicki Acquah

Alive
(how do I know)

I knew I was alive

Not from the pain

Of giving birth

Not from the excruciating

Re-occurring tooth ache

Sometimes its things like this-

That makes you call on death

I knew I was alive -

Tho I did not feel alive-

I felt no pulse

Like when I

Was kidnapped
--
Nor the day she stabbed

And killed my brother-

Not when they sentenced my

Black male child

For trying to be a hero.-

Somehow

I knew I was alive

because of

Little insignificant things-

Little things -that opened my eyes

Such as

Robotic moves - A glimpse of

The mundane these things

Made me aware-of

Where the illusions end

And real life begins

More times than not

The heavy loads are

Too painful to digest-

So I focus

On the insignificant

Like when the man pushed

His glasses upon his nose.

But not when the weather

Was below zero- and cold


I knew one day the

Tragedies would cease

And that feeling of

Living would increase

That one day in spite of

All these pitfalls

And stumbling blocks


I finally realize

That I am alive

When I saw a man push

His glasses upon his nose.


I knew I was alive when

I saw the woman eating

Cheese-less Cheetos


One day life flashed

A warning button

Alerting me that

This life is real


Yet there were no rules attached

Life is complicated without rules

And even with rules

Life is still an unfair game

A complicated game of chance.


I made two babies

Laughed as much as I could

Without appearing insane


Sat through a few movies

Read only what and when

I wanted- only

When I wanted.

I was busy writing

A bunch of poems


I wanted to dance every day

The only sacrifice I made

Was sometimes I wouldn't let myself
...

I wanted to leave right

After the dancing stopped


Still knew I was a

Living being when

I saw how I stayed on

The minds of the babies..

Babies never forget me.

The child ran toward me .

He had on training pants

He could not have

Been any more than

Three -or a bit more -

No more than four.

He ran to me as

I had been gone for so long

But he was gleefully greeting

Me - how could he remember me.?

He was only one year old

When I left town.


The other kid came over to help me

But he charged me two dollars

I said" I thought you were

Helping me from your heart"

"I am". :..He Said

"but I still need two-dollars“

That was real.


The only thing acting up on my

Computer is the software

That keeps my “puter”

From acting up.


I knew when I saw him

The man - pushing his glasses

Up on his nose. It was then

That I knew that

I was still alive ..

This must be my test.


A child ask for two dollars

To help me.. from his heart

My maintenance software

Opens to error messages-

Man pushes glasses up

On his nose-incidentally-

It was at these crucial points

I now know my life

Is not an illusion-

But that is how -

Somehow -

That is how -

I know I am alive -

How bout you ?


Copyright ©2015
Vicki Acquah

Got my bags packed: On my way, the last five were pulled today. Getting stiff getting dizzy- stomach shrinking-tolerating the intolerable -- On my way to the big screen -- No turning back, no detours.. Got my bags packed...not getting off the train until I reach " Re-play your life Avenue". I knew it .... she got it twisted, I was not in that picture, never played that scene...I will see it on the the big screen..I hate when people use you as an extra after the fact.. When they add you to parts you never played- Give you roles in which you were never featured - "Said you said" scripted words you never recited..."We shall see said the blind man" - On my way to the big theater in the sky.... Me and my Creator with the remote; Navigating through the footage Sitting in the front row of my Life.

It don't take all that
So I see
Words
Mean less is more.
More the less.

God had a green card
But cannot get back in the gate.
The Bricks are thick
But not so tall, I think
God may need to scale the wall.

Are we safe in structures gated
Must we stay in this prison
Where women are hated.
Our bones are hidden in tunnels.

Where has my mother gone
My sisters have disappeared, been
Abducted into a cult; Suspicious
Disinterest displays their guilt.

There has been nothing to report.
Maybe she has run away
To find a new God, Someone has
Touched her, she was not safe there
In her own bed, in her own home.

Some Blackman- Chanted hate lyrics
At her; Encouraged by their overseers.
Asian cultist cursed her in the womb.
In India they ostracized and brutalized
Her melanin, Queen of England, a
******, watches through syphilitic
Eyes without concern.

Beautiful cocoa,vanilla, and mustard
Babies sold or married off to smelly
suitors for ***, before puberty; mere
Children, march and are showcased
For the wicked pleasures of men.
But should I call them men?

Remember we once ruled this planet
Remember once we bore your beloved sons,
Now we work and twerk our bodies
As we answer to your perversions
We no longer dance to bring rain.
We slide down poles reluctantly
Displaying our pain.

My mother is crying for me
My sister's are crying for me.  
God will ignite the lamp of justice
God now has her green card and shall
Return us "Back to our Spiritual selves.

We dared not become too ripe, though
We must remain agile or we be thrown away
Like rotten fruit, never to be seen again

God now has her green card and
Will return us back to our Spiritual State.
Once again - You shall call us "Heaven".

Woman, who created man in her womb..
Became the enemy of man, and has been cast off.
We cannot testify with ovaries or inverted testicles.

Soon there was no natural preference
No perspective of gender has man !
Procreation ceased,the ****** forever
Banned to bear ovarian fruit.
We who remain alive wait.

Awaiting a Foreign God who's eager to
Receive her green card, and save us from our fate.
From the hands of a wicked system
We are doused in the agony of acid
Women perish, For the mercy of death we pray.

My mother is crying for me
My sisters are crying for me.
God will again ignite the lamp of justice
God now has her green card;
And shall return us to our spiritual state.

Remember we once ruled this planet,
We bore your unloved seeds, who
You've turned against us; We shall
Return them unto our bosoms....And
Once again, you shall call us " Heaven" !


© Vicki Acquah

As the lowering sun
Keeps the earth's
Night at bay
They say
Make hay
Whilst the
Sunshines.
As the sun
Disappears
It displays arrays
Orchestrating
Colorful sprays
Magnificently
Closing the day...
The stage is set for
Final curtain calls
The credits roll,
We breath in
Exhaling praises to
The Supreme Director!

Battered, beaten, bruised, Torn and scorned.
Women In the boardroom,
Or be you a nursing mother;
From the Alley to the gutter;
From maid to servant, wife or slave.. Lust and shame, follows our names No way to say no, No-way to explain Mothers in the church, they pray and sing
Keeping time with the music we play. Whispers in the back of us, as we shout And pray. Had so many children.. To care for, that we bore;
Life for us just one big ole' big chore. Circumstances dictated that we live in shacks, No indoor running water, in the shack Just a "spickit" and a toilet in the yard outback. From the age of fourteen until well in our fie birth to our little brown babies.
We smiled, sacrificed, our happiness, and our own lives, Pretended to hold on, when our faith had long died. We'd wash cook, sew, clean, garden and teach. In hopes that the children we bore... Knew not, nor suffer the same strife; As we met in this life.
When our children saw the wounds And the pain we've endured. We asked God "let them not be bitter nor dismayed" Let them succeed, and by his mercy be cured.
As the light in our eyes, now dim, is soon to be snuffed. The Average Black woman had been through enough. Battle after battle; We survived every war. Some women were self-made, others evolved higher In spite of the odds.
Though the abuser at Home did not want her to score.. Battered and beaten; She still held her own; Though she never saw Jesus, Somehow she still soared..became Professors and Doctors, surgeons. Inventors musician and clergymen. Scientist, dentist and politicians, Bed-wenches and ******, We did what it took to survive, we Even Scrubbed floors.
Disaster after disaster, there's is Nothing in this world; The Black-Woman Has not conquered and mastered. When she crosses over and is on the other shore... When her days on earth are finally done, And she wants to cleanse her soul.
                      She'll Tell God of all the things
That hurt her most here in this earthly life. Was being battered, bruised, and beaten... By the man that called her Wife.

Vicki Acquah :
"Shallow Thinkers" do not think past what they have been told- "Deep Thinkers" think past what they feel" and have been told- "Free Thinkers" research what they've been told- compare it to what they feel - And weigh the universal truth's against their personal truths;Against customs and beliefs. The outcomes of such behaviors objective is "Deriving at truth in its finality". The overall and final truth is “like death”.. the cause may be different the out-come the same." You will surely die". This Is the absolute truth: The only need for "absolute truth" is to be a better human while you live. If Any human being deliberately- collectively, singly; Directly or indirectly interfere with another human's right to pursue happiness,by way of religious strong arming,war,greed,****, ******, They shall be held accountable. And will pay the "ultimate fatal penalty.
Do not force your parroted non-researched hearsay down another human's throat,Causing them to stumble. Bottom line is... Do no harm ...While living in these testing grounds on earth,
“be the best in your flesh” and your spirit will go innocent and Uncondemned. © Vicki Acquah

A Softer Way to Die

We live and study life
We pray that somehow
God changes his rules.
No one wants to die
No one wants to follow
Those complicated laws;
I mean no lie-ing - no steal-ing
no *** - before marriage no
Fornicate-ing, no ****-ing
No lust-greed or defil-ing the earth.
Amen.
All we can do now is try to find
" A softer way to die".
Pick your battles...
There are many ways to die.
I asked, God why?
When mom threw a
"Monkey wrench" in my world
Answering - "We all have to die"
I immediately winked at God...
Thinking to myself ( not I) .
Gave him a little nudge;
Sidebar God : I said to God
Adamantly "I do not want to die"
"Can you change the rules "?
I never heard back from him
On that subject..
I went to him again
God "Can you at least
Keep me with a mom-
I said "So that I won't be an
Orphan like Shirley Temple" ?
He did get back to me on that
And Mom is Alive and well
Plan A. ( living forever)
Still not executed.
Once again contemplating
Thoughts on how I want to die.
I could not think of a pleasant way
To die, none that seemed appealing.
Nor any options that would be fun.
hmmm, eat myself to death.
Playing chicken with the train,
Might prove thrilling.
As time grew nigh
My thoughts continued
....On a softer way to die.
Childhood gone, middle age gone'
Old age approaching fast and furious
Destroying me like a sudden
Approaching hurricane...
This storm knocked out my lights
Memory gone now..
Forgetting my life- my loved ones
Forgetting my friends,
Children,and foes alike
Forgetting my wrongs - my sins
and accomplishments all.
Everything's gone. So now
What do I do ?... How can
I rewrite my life,Take account..
Of that which I remember not.
The realities of my existence
Has been wiped out from
The Forest Fires burning
In my minds eye.
Have no recordings of
Who loved me or of who
I shall never forgive.
How will I know that I ever even lived.
Taking my dark blank pages into
The after life- My shadowy
Existence ends. I feel no pain
I Have no thoughts,
Have nothing to contemplate.
For I have asked to live forever
Or that I die a,softer way
Forgetting to eat
Forgetting to drink-
Forgetting to swallow
Forgetting to breath...
Forgetting this life-
I close my eyes and fade away.
painlessly
© Vicki Acquah

Life The Final Game:

My heart started with love, support. life; Seeking love, life. liberty, and a chance by chance, to support my fellow man,My heart now deserted and uncrowded, Stands strong and unafraid. Words that touched me before, now slash like sickles in a semi-colon of; love slashes /// Meaningless nothings to a wounded heart -
Words leaving deep wounds, slashes that follow the nothingness of, long silences. Leaving periods and dots at the ending....Not even a Question mark.? Asking...
Yet you have accepted all the ropes I have thrown you..and burned all the bridges I built for you to cross. In this the final board game of life.....
I teeter on this rope no longer, when I cross over again my heart will not remember sacrifice nor love.

Survival is a board game - My spinning head, now landing on (village idiot), I roll the dice twice, "If you land on the( evil forest ),you may lose this game", says the space on which I landed -"If you roll the dice and land on {pull a card},you may receive instructions on how to save your self.

If you Land on the( Church Negroes),They will ask you to sing with them, Partake of unclean food with them. As you starve they will ask you for offerings, Which they then give to their already rich podium pimps. If you Land on (Whites-Only ); They will judge you for not being their( happy token) See they have saved you and the natives from the flies and fathom.They say "see your own people are killing you".. You need "Jesus" . Wait on him....

As I pull my last card and take my last spin I land on,( "Pure Hearts") They are few, "You must stay amongst these who has shown you their true colors" reads the card. For they are your hope, and will never abandon you. Your kind will not always be easy to spot, However you must learn to discern by their spirit - You will not recognize them by race alone; Remember "those who you have rescued one time,. or many times,will leave you to perish, and will not necessarily rescue nor even remember you in the end.

If you want to
Play and not stay.                                                                                                      
Then get out of my way.
If you see me smiling
In my sleep;
That means,
I am dreaming
And enjoying my dream.
If you are not sincere enough
To sweetened my reality...,.
With good intentions
I will excuse
Your intervention.

But do not arouse
My love in vain.
If you want to
Play and not stay
Please spare me the
Pain of your sick little game,
Leave me contented
In my dreams again.!

When Truth Came A Calling

There's A knock on my door,
I ask "who is there". ?
Standing there are five faces. .
They answer" IN UNISON "Truth"
I ask" Why the disguise"...?
It is I,"Truth" they all refrain.

How will I know which one of
you is to cross my threshold,
Let us all in and you will
figure it out in the end.
"No" I shouted I will never-
I will dismiss the one in
front he is much too "Clever".

Now there are four. Who shall I leave
to come through my door.
The next one began to explain,
every reason he should entrance gain,
a very convincing argument, I exclaimed,
"Go away you are nothing but" Rhetoric";
Everyone knows that the truth is Plain.

Now standing there in
front of my door left three,
The next one to speak
was beautiful, and very ****...
"let me in, and I will prove I am truth.
You knew my mother her name was Ruth".

No! -You cannot lure me with ***
I read the story of your mother
and interpreted well.
If you do not leave my
door I will surely get vexed.

Now that I sent all but two away,
It was easier to tell ,
Who was left to welcome in..
Which of these two should enter my abode?
I had to ponder as to What truth really meant.
Was it something to be applied like a first aid kit.?

Is it true, that the truth is
sometimes ugly, and always plain?
Will the truth set you free after the pain.  
Hmm...
I pondered some more and let them both in.

One was life and one was death-
One was yen and one was yang.  
Truth number one started to speak, He said:
"No" The truth is not always in plain sight
Sometimes you have to search for it !

And:"Yes", The truth
can be ugly at times,
but you were right;
Real truth never wears a disguise.
Some truth is Imagined and
real truth's are universal

Depends on the mindset of the
thinker. What he perceives to be real-
has had many rehearsals;
As his thoughts have been trained -
as to what he see's, knows and feels.

The truth is not convoluted,
nor contrived,and
you will always KNOW
more than you think you do;
When the truth arrives.

When you enjoy the lies,
and the rhetoric,
It's because the lies
you believe, benefit you,
Though PREJUDICE eyes
can barely RECOGNIZE
the TRUTH again ever.

And so you will remain
as a BIAS SLAVE,
To the self seeking lies forever.

We are truth,they lamented-
We are the wide and the narrow
THE good,THE bad,
The HAPPY, The SAD-
LIFE AND THE DEATH.
THE YEN AND THE YANG.

WE DO NOT CHANGE- ACCORDING TO
WHAT YOU BELIEVE-WE ARE A CONSTANT-
AND WE ARE also CHANGE.

There was a knock on my door--
Someone had come,
disguised as one of truth's
predictions.
Somehow he has come
to blame the innocent victims.

I prayed for my secret
eye to be opened,
and my judgement
to be discerning.

Because the truth,
as it seems, I am learning.
Is subject to Interpretation.

And before "Truth"
left my home, I was told.  
Man cannot reason out, that
which he does not understand-

If he thinks he understands the proof
but calls upon no spirit to discern -
He alone, is unable to interpret the truth
Copyright © 2015 Vicki Acquah

The Melody Of Love


Love plays different melodies..
Music to which lovers respond..
  
Instrumental, is the harp,
the flute, and the drum.

Listen with your ears, for
your heart may skip a beat
.
Listen with your eyes,eyes will
always see.

Hear with your whole being,
the melody of love.

The Drum will beat out
warnings..

As the harp beckons
to you,.."come"!!

The flute will calm a
distressed soul...

But only the melody of unity
can strike that blessed chord.

Unity and passion can
fulfill the empty soul.

While the melody of love
unheard, is sad.

Opened ears will make songs glad....
When we move our feet together,

our hearts will dance in unison
If we hear love’s melody

with unguarded hearts -
To the love we shall sub-come.

We contemplate the music
of loves sweet refrain.

Together we make music
of melodious adoration,

As our creator's love
has no limitations.

You whistle the same
bars and measures.

As I lay and calmly hum.
We be tuned as one-

We become
as a symphony,

to which our
heartstrings strum.

Copyright © 2015 Vicki Acquah

Unlike The "Opposable Thumb"
The ******* is profane.
Articulating that which translates,and
Transcends the barriers of speech;
Into a powerful two word force.

In most language... We love to speak
With "Middle Fingers" as a paradox -
Expressing something we love doing....
To loved ones.Though offered on other
Occasions To the "Woes of or Foes"

As for foes, we gesture our
"Middle Fingers" At those who we
Do not like in the least bit.
"Opposable thumbs" only disagree.

"******* flashing" is a concepts of thoughts.
Paradox or a paragon that epitomizes
The disdain when shot straight up,as in
" Shot a bird.". ***** ole men wiggle it at minors.

The "*******" goes straight to the point
Especially If directed pointedly at you.
Men can beckon their wives with "That Finger"
Only If they are smiling.

Princess Misled:
Poems for Preteens:

Kissed a bunch of frogs
They were still frogs in the end.
Kissed toads, until warts grew
Why is what you're looking for
Always in the last place you look
I asked myself.?

I needed my Prince
Oh how I needed my hero.
Ready to give up, I drank
Potions from the last cauldron.
About to call it a life.

My Fairy Godmother
Was a Witch.....
I Was under her spell
Still I searched once
Again to no avail.

One last kiss did I perform
To my surprise this last frog
Transformed; When the
Prince saw me, with warts
On my skin: Mission
Completed as this now my end.

The moral of the story is as clear
As can be, Mono or ****** is not
Worth the risk.
The toads that you kiss...
May not be so charming; Fairy Tale
Metaphors, may prove be alarming.

Real Princesses, go home
When they leave the ball,,
The Prince was not very happy, not
Happy at all: He ran away screaming...
"Ladies and Princesses should never kiss frogs "

THE
Pitfalls of Pretty
Is like being
"Tall and that's all"
The Boys want
the Girls want..
No one wants to
pay
Upkeep
Fee..
No maintenance
I am free.
Cheap
Just say
"Pretty please."
to Please me..
And I am yours.
Eager and desperate
To let my pretty please
you.
All I have is my
PRETTY
I need to
To retain
MY pretty.
To keep the pretty,
Pretty.!
Pretty soon my pretty
is disappeared,
And no pretty
attitude established
No pretty personality
developed...
Pretty is now pretty
Petty,shaky and shabby.
Has built no Character ,
No substance
on which to stand.
So she falls into the pitfalls
Of being Pretty ...and that's all
Copyright © 2015 Vicki Acquah

Me: By Oladeji aka Vicki Acquah

Because I am only
ONE of my Kind.
And refuse
to Abort my mission..I ask..
Could I have been a little more
religious
patient
tolerant
willing
agreeable
softer
sweeter
easier
diplomatic
could I have gone along to get along,
be a softer place for hard ***** to land.
Could I have been a little less
Difficult
Opinionated
forgiving
fault finding
expressive
extreme
Blunt
Truthful
Yes... I could have...
But then where would that leave you?
That would not have been me,
And as you can see
There's enough of them
Carbon Copies....
....And they are not changing a ****-thing.
And then there's me...

Me: by Oladeji Vicki Acquah
Copyright © 2015 Vicki Acquah

Oh how I wish I cud speak of love like other poets.
But you have made love, such a way of killing loves joy.
I cut your picture into 1000 pieces.

While you visit your ex- who is now your extra..
Spend time putting yourself back together again.
This coulda been a love poem.

We could be practicing making babies and writing love poems
Instead, I was compelled to amuse myself in your callous absence.

By the time you come home - I will be gone,never to return.
I zoomed in and INCREASED THE SIZE.
I took the missing picture parts - Like the top of your head-
And your heart; Since you have no use for them.

Other more functional parts of the puzzle -
Have been mailed to  your ex-or your extra woman.
Hope she continues to make you happy..

Eventually I will mail her the rest of you.
In the meantime do not lose any more
"PIECES OF YOURSELF".
"Thank you god for second thoughts"

PUT YOURSELF together...and remember
I am cursing you, as to cure myself of you.
Voodoo is tied to that 1000 piece puzzle
You must gather your missing parts.
Stay with your EX...and never be vexed.

I have here with me, the other useless parts of you.
I've mailed them to your extra, along with permanent glue.
A love poem - and babies, would have suited me better.

I brought you here - You brought her here
To our abode - So I've been told
I did not know.....
and in our room?
She wore my clothes...
I had no proof - The proof I find.
Sorry won't get it - Not this time.
Adrenaline Rushing.

You try and touch me - You think I am weak
Real loud I speak - "Don't touch me now"
I am so frustrated - You could have waited.

You pull my hair - I slap your face
Now we are fighting - So I start biting
The fight ain't fair - My neck your choking;
I knee'd your nose -
Adrenaline Rushing...
I start to smile -
When I do that....I am not joking.
Ahm dusting that *** -
Police are called - They pull me off
They said I won -

Three police knocked me down
and turn their backs -

I feel a whack - and now I snap
You hit my Jaw; With a walking cane.
Cane broke, on my face
Adrenaline pumping-
I get up....
Half a cane in your hand...
You throw it down.
And start running-
Full throttle.
I am right behind you with a
Heineken bottle.
I catch you in the cut
bout to finish, whoopin that ****.
You start to cry like a little cat
Making me, a female dog.
Adrenaline rushing..
But you ain't worth touching.
"Please" I say..."don't come back this way".
No make up *** for you today!
I am too weak... trying to forget
Things are bad- I call my dad.
"come n get this low level devil"
My spirit's vexed - For him there'll
be no make up ***....
......ever,ever again... !

Excuse me while I Puke:

I hear screams of virgins watching
their innocence being tortured.
I see flowers hiding in the shadows
covering their eyes with shame.
I smell the putrid odors,
fuming from the stench
of bush meat eating scavengers.
Forcing intimacy on cherubs and angels.
I see abused women and children,
giving up and dying because
no one is looking for them.
I saw the First Lady of indifference
at the mall caressing a Gucci collar
for her little poodle dog.
I heard that birds still sing
and flowers still bud.
Right now I cannot enjoy
their contrite delight.
My eyes are filled with blood.
Is there anymore-
Bizarreness to be Ignored
AS I puke.

Ever if
Disaster needed a
Safe path to commit
it's destruction
No one would be
Beyond reproach.
Be it wind,fire
Or Water.

© Vicki Acquah

Because He Gets Me

I still love him in
spite of ,not
because of-- He is
the rare one, who
even though his
arrogance at times
over shadows his
maturity; He is
still the one who
gives believable
credibility to my
written soul - I
know he gets my
every word
intellectually and
spiritually.
His own wisdom which
mirrors my soul's
expressions,speaks.
I was so drawn to
his intellect and so
impressed by his
depth...that his
moments of
shallowness almost
tilted me over.
I still love him in
spite of his temper
tantrums, and his
reverting back to
his childish,selfish
jealousy; I love him
even when he tries
so hard to invent
ways not to love me.
All because he is
wanting to hold on
to me for hours..
when I only have
seconds to give. So
you see, I cannot
hate him for loving
me.

© Vicki Acquah. All
rights reserved

The Flautist, fluently flaunted her flute- Music flew faultlessly through the airwaves, flying fluidly above the noise of the blustering city                                                    
THE flautist created a calm fragrance, whose flavor of creativity fell-well onto your soul creating a soul stirring calmness across the city.

She played her flute clean into the night vehemently, over the feverish chaos –
And the people in the park and in the city could hear clearly as they walked in rhythmic tunes/ She flaunted her music like sweet low hanging fruit, Her music dangled beautiful and singly. She alone, Solo-ed notes of delightful serenity-  

  The flautist moved the masses to a state of bliss; Like free kisses flying in the wind landing on ears conquering and engaging spirits, conquering pandemonium with her flute, she blew her flute... SHE BLEW HER FLUTE, and we marched and listened obediently. She blew her flute and we marched magnificently to her concert.