Milk for meat
Hype for hope
Lies for love
Ashes for beauty
And yet we all said "amen"
Puppet master
Thy humble puppets, enthralled
...and we have anointed you;
To tell us ...
  What we want to hear
  What we want to read
   What we want to watch

You have execute thy duties;
Tickling our ears to perfection,
With feathers, dipped in ******
Our souls; numbed  
our hearts; tangled in lies.

The parade
The confetti
The Loyalist
An ovation;
To he who sits
lonely, on his throne;
Feeding our emotions,
In your own emptiness.
Sensationalism
Emotional
Temporarily
Seasonal
Hypnotized
Roller coaster ride...
We are dead, like the last generation.

I want it smooth
Poetry, rough and smooth
Therefore, play me the
rough melodies, not to
the sensual ear
You soft trumpeter,
keep on playing though
Just get new lungs
Change is good
So play the trombone
Play it hard,
I want it rough
When my heart beats faster
than the speed of light, and
my mind experience,
a forceful mental awakening,
a turnaround, new perspective.
Rough is soothing
Rough is healing
That rough melodica.

In the cold
I sit alone
With myself:
Cup in my hands;
Raised it up, to invite
The sun, the moon and
My fathers, for a drink,
A drink, through the milkyway
A pause
A silence
Questions
Bewildering
Freezing cold
Teary eye
Curiosity fades -  the silence.
Come drink with me, my fathers
Come drink with me, morning sun
I seek friendship with the past
I seek wisdom with the past
I seek travelling mercies
A cup in my hands
Cold questions in my heart
Future, frozen in silence
Come drink with me, through
The many lights of the constellation,
To a future, of liquid beauty
Come drink with me,
The warnth of the    
sages, through this lean path;
Dotted with thorn piercing puzzles.
Bruised feet
Wounded hearts
Pilgrims surrender
The crown has fallen
Servants rule
Come my fathers
Come morning sun
For a drink with your son
Before I succumb to the many voices, in my ears.

My my my:
you
keep
me,
in
perfect
paradise
madness.

You have been through so much
Wounded and bruised on all sides
Standing at the edge of this cliff;
Feet slipping with disturbing thoughts
The world is a narrow path, dotted
With uncertainties and cruelty
A terrain, victory so unpredictable
Coup de grace may seem the only option
You, you have the warriors ethos in you
Shield thy heart from the volcanic ramblings
Forlorn hope, in frontal attack, come what may;
Conquering your personal demons and fears
You win, from the inside out!

Copyright 2014 || McDaniels Gyamfi

You and I
We are buds
Unfolding into
A flower;
Full of life.

If the door slides open
And you have the chance
To walk through the edges
Of a friends secret past;
You have been given a great
Opportunity to see and heal
It is unwise to summoned strangers
To visit this cherished museum, of scars.
The world would be a better place
If friends and love ones could be LOYAL.