The foretold episode is ripe
And the childless dawn is now flowering,
The awesome parrots of Africa
Have began swimming in the heavens

And singing the verses of the paraded bees,
For the warrior of South Africa
Has ultimately impregnated the Godsbaa
Without violating her divine virginity,

The black star arouse from Ghana,
Journeyed gorgeously through Zimbabwe
And has decisively descended on South Africa,
Bu this is just the divine seed

Yet to grow into a full black African moon,
For the black star of the black man
Is the religious light yet to radiate on
The colourless naivete of mankind,

Ah, the premise behind this
Exhibition makes a perfect sense,
We did begin it all,
Pilgrimage through it all
And shall end it all,

For the wreckage of
Humanity flies with time
And the megapower status
Of the African is a fact of life,

Today, a new voice has been
Added to the joy of the black women,
Causing the dry bamboo flutes to buzz
With the pantaloons of the ancestors,

Adorn our emerald embryonic pride with
The ambrosial smiles charms of the sunrise,
For he pelts of the peerless mid-night
Has been remodeled with our dark gore.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

Sometimes nature has it all
Other times reality has it all
But this time my dear has it all,
I love you mother Africa
For you have all the answers,

Sometimes the elders have it all
Other times the Gods have it all
But this time my princess has it all,
I need you mother Africa
For you know all the answers,

Sometimes you have it all
Other times I have it all
But this time they have it all,
I see you mother Africa
For you give all the answers.



© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

I have a vision and a goal
In my heart and mind,
Of a new and a great awakening;
And where the thirsty volcanoes
Shall cry our loud for blood;

And where the mountains
Shall lie flat on their faces;
And where the wise aunt
Shall rule over the jungle in wisdom;
And where the wild bamboo
Shall provide edible fruits for mankind;

And where the dark moon
Shall rule over the lights and day;
And where both the South and the West wind
Shall hold their peace indefinitely;
And where realities in nature
Shall live without principles;

And where the ****** sea
Shall boil in an unquenchable rage,
Seeking vengeance on the wicked enemy;
And where the sky shall turn red and
Shall war against the flaming earth,

Nevertheless, in all these
There shall be a mental re-birth,
We shall excel in progress and in pride,
We shall officiate our own destiny,
We shall discover our mental capabilities,
Which is the road to our common destiny.

             II

Yes, I have a vision and a goal
Still in my heart and mind
Of a new and a better life,
In which all men, women and children
Of goodwill and a passion for excellence
Might be able to express themselves freely,

Without force, fear or favour,
And where life’s opportunities and times,
Might be open freely to all;
And where all mankind
Shall walk at liberty in solidarity;

And where equity and equality
Shall be our hallmark;
And where starvation, sorrow and suffering
That evil trio,
Shall be no more;

And where dedication, discipline and determination,
That just trio
Shall penetrate our souls and spirits;
And where a new start
With a just course,
Really might be possible to all,
Forgetting past failures and errors,

Nevertheless, in all these
We must let bygones be bygones
Where liberty and love is concerned,
Now is the hour of a fresh emancipation
With an honest and fair purpose.



© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

Oh no, it is not right
To side with an ordinance
Contrary to the divine words,
For the Gods of thy destiny is jealous
Over thy new found ego-Gods,

Thou slept as a great hero
And awoke as a dead wretched coward,
Thy gilt could not taste the indefinite
Wisdom from the ancestors for long,
May be, the libation poured
On thy blessed eighth day
Could not please the Gods of thy destiny,

Thou have lifted up thy wicked hands
Against the children of heaven,
And thou shall never escape
The judgment of Tweaduampon Kwame,
And any attempt to exculpate thyself
Shall outcry thy destruction,

Why, has the executioner received
Thy death warrant from the council of elders?
The ruler of the city of the dead
Is stirred up with delight
To welcome thee into his kingdom,
The worms and termites
Shall be thy bedspread and pillow,

The sea behind thy house,
Yarns for they salt,
For how shall he be clean,
He who is defiled with blood and slaughter,
By the polluted lapse of denial,
And who is stained by so great an evil?

Oh, see how thou have become
A spectacle to the sparrows,
The floods are now clothed in the
Official dress of the raven,
Causing the volcanic mountains over the
Eastern hills to weep over thy transfiguration,
For thy sacred calico has been
Stained with malice and destruction,

Amazingly, the rooster has accepted
To crow only at noonday,
Whilst the dawn has also refused
Contact with the daylight,
Now, let the lazy sleeping lion
Dream of infinite terror and disaster,
Oh yes, mighty lion, the clouds
Of Nigeria will not hold together,
Until thy woes are emptied in fear and tears.



© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

The rainy season is at
The door once again,
And loneliness has
Brought me a new pillow,
But who is to defend
My repugnant soul?
Can it be the Gods?

Hear this! The rain has
Began knocking at my
Slammer door gradually,
Oh no, it is knocking
And wailing so heavily,
With his icy voice
Of storm and cold
Arresting my hearty dreams,
But I will retch at his smell
And hurry for my handkerchief,

Where is my lantern?
May be, the native doctor
Has the answer to the
Cylindrical jar containing
Her eternal juniper organs,
Indeed, it is my misfortune
To go about with the priest,
For even the child of
The priest even dies at noon,

Ah, I thought she was
Vigilant and ever-ready
To make the debtors
Chew the palm kernels,
But she became the
Portion of the exterior of
The *** that skin can cover,

I have lost my heaven,
Oh no, I have lost the
One whose neck is like a
Bunch of small-fingered plantain,
I have lost the whetstone
On which I sharpen
My thirsty sword to
Perform deeds of valour,

Let the Gods weep!
Let the ancestors wail!
Let the people of Africa,
Give me condolence of
The talking drums,
For their child is gone,
The wise woman who cut
Her thumb in order to get
A wise husband is dead,

Mother, the Okro full of
Seeds of children and literature,
Efua Sutherland, the queen,
The toad likes water, but not
When the water is boiling,
Send me something
When someone is coming,
Efua Sutherland, the queen,
You and I exchange gift.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

The growing day has
Handed over the doyen
To the dawning evening,
Yes, it is the
Responsibility of the
Father to make the
Sacrifices for the son,

Ask the son to wake up
Early on his soul day,
In preparation for the ceremony,
For Ntikuma has exposed
Kwaku Ananse once again,
Perhaps, it was our fault,
For Boakye Danquah has
Gone to the village without a cause,

Now, sprinkle the divine water
From the calabash,
Three times on him,
Oh yes, on the son,
And ask for the Gods blessings
Right after the libation,

Indeed, anyone who does
Not know the drums or horn
Message of his chief,
Gets lost in any dispersion,
Joseph Boakye Danquah,
The true father of Ghana,
We are debtors to your soul.

            II
Who is this father?
Ask him to use the three
Fingers between his thumb
And the smallest finger
To smear the mixture of white clay
On his forehead, chick and wrist bone,
For Boakye Danquah has
Gone to village without a cause,

Ah, Boakye was born
In the period where
The stormy rainfall causes
Small ***** to abound,
Hmm, the nations have drunk
The water of affliction
And have eaten the
Strange bread of adversity,

Was anyone there,
To quench his throat?
Was anyone there?
To drink his blood and sweat?
Was anyone there?
To witness this transfiguration?

Indeed, the horns cannot be
Too heavy for the head of the cow that
Must bear them,
Joseph Boakye Danquah,
The true father of Ghana,
We are debtors to your soul.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

The branches of Africa
Are gnashing their teeth
In liberation and sorrow,
Whiles the Kwahu mountains
Have frown over the horizon,

Oh yes, the brave has
No right to winnow
Such an ultimately subpoena,
For the sumptuous
Sunbeam has sullied
The pride of Nkroful,

Is that the great man
Resting in a lonely palace?
Dreaming of darkness
And infinite vacuum?
Is there no ointment
To take this sting of
Cotton out of the mind?

Is that the proud son of Africa
With his heart still
Dreaming in tears of blood?
Kwame indeed had no
Cure for his sick pride,
Nor the taste of
His glorious suffering,

Oh no, the sun has
Stretched her scorching
Face over his eyelids,
That everyone who
Passes by him shall
Hiss and shake his fist,

His clasp are now held
Together on his abdomen,
Never again shall the
Straying lighting of the
Hills and valleys weep
Over the stratum of Africa,

Osagyefo is no more
For the right arm
Of Fathiah is broken,
But the Gods
Shall not rest,
Until Africans see the light.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com