My people!
A wind got into my ears,
I turned and discovered that it was a bird singing a morning song
The melody was beautiful but the lyrics literally were words of gossip
Paying closer attention out of curiosity I heard her say,

Years a ago today,
A maiden was sent down by Ɔbɔadeɛ (the creator) to this land;
The land of gold
Today,
She would be adorned in many colours of wishes from dawn;
A day of memory

On this,
I can not watch we the kinsmen and kinswomen miss
We must never be left out on this all important durbar,
The durbar of honour and merrymaking

So I say,
Join me in paying homage to the dark skinned maiden among the lots in our land
Let the few and the many words of love, sound on the fontomfrom to the lass

My self, I precede with the dancing steps of the lizard,
Nodding to the sounds produced by the drops of palmwine from the beards of the old men in the calash of theirs

Let men, women and children celebrate
Let's keep brightness on the cheeks of the celebrant
Bring out gifts let's present
Our fathers say,
The knee wears not the cap in the presence of the head

Till the sun goes back to rest,
Continuously we offer thanks to him who sits on high
The man who gave us this damsel full of value years ago today

To the maiden we say,
Enjoy your day
Let joy fill you full
In strength we pray to see you in yet another year

This thing , that thing
We're never satisfied
When shall we ever let it go?

More this, more that
We never get enough
Why can't we ever let it go?

You've got just one life
Learn to enjoy it
Worry about nothing

I just have one wish
Just one wish
Knowing what you have is more than gold

Jealousy and envy
Choking our daily lives
Why give it the way to be so?

Want what your friend have
Neglecting what you have
Why don't you value what's your own?

We all have something
Be content with yours
And worry about nothing

I just have one wish
Just one wish
That you know what you have is more than gold

Be content with what you have

Am not sure when again to soar,
but to soar again, definitely am sure.
A wound to the chest but not enough to prevent my best.
The heart I still have, I shall again chest the open air and pull up my best cos my best yet is to step its foot on the last stair.
Though the wound is living behind a scar, the ground I won't stay because I am a star.
Deriving motivation from the vibration in and around, I'll have to put luggage of the past in the thrash very fast.
Yes, It is impossible to wash away the leopards spots, yet it has nothing to do with its hunting course.
This is staying around for long
but am assuring the world am strong.
Am still the eagle,
refusing to be depressed and forever remain single.
If a story is to be told of a broken person, it wont be of me, cos mine is going to be a courageous lesson.

I know only one person very well
One person I can describe very well
So I write mostly about him
Me

I write my own story
Put the emotions where they need to be
Take a break when things get too fast
And stop where I believe I should

I paint my own portrait
Place the dark colours where I deem fit
Brightening where the need be
Living the brush strokes in desired directions

I give not my canvas to any other
No matter how good they may be
Cos they may never present the true me
For this is what remains when am gone.

She is gone again
Gone living him all alone
Alone with his thoughts and pain

She gave convincing reasons to leave
But he has convincing doubts
Doubts many enough not to believe

But he cannot keep her
He cannot
Because be has not enough to feed her

On a cold breezy night
With misses of her warmth
He has nothing else but his bottle of liquor to hold on tight

Thoughts of her kills him inside
He can only have her in his mind
But not by his side

Who is she with this time
That is the question seesawing on his mind
And he wonders if loving her is a crime

Why can't he leave her for another
Another one maybe better
But only he knows how hard it was to find him a lover

Lashing out at the rage,
The cause of the breakup but it is too late to wake up
Because she is already a goner breath.
The bid for resurrecting a carcass united with the sand to feed on a plant is a ruin.
So let it be.
Let it be.
Someway somehow when the inner waters begins to boil in any season
This shall be the soil to visit for lesson in history.
Let not the rings of its trees remind you years spent cooking stones because of your urge to boil.
Let this be awakening, wounded lion.

Touch my heart
Let me melt into your arms
Am a singerbird waiting for someone to listen to my sweet melodies
Chirp chirp chirp my lyrics go
And sweet they sound in the ears of the one who loves me
Soften your hands
Then I can feel your touch better
Allow me in
Then enjoy my rhythm
The sweetness which is reserved for you
For you and you alone