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Qweyku May 2014
As you attempt to pour more political doctrine down my throat
I check the change in my pocket
for
the laxative I‘ll have to buy
from my legal drug dealer

REALLY!?!

Did you not know that your words are;

indigestible,

incorrigible

&  

wholly corruptible?

How do you manage
to
politically caress your own eardrums
reach
through your sinuses,
tickling
the lining of your
esophagus
and yet,
make me cough?!

Your response to truth is truly painful,
you feel it in your chest,
your ***** heaves and razes
you have a fit gesticulating policies
flipping birds that won’t fly

It’s too late!

Mr "I went to Oxford so I must have the plan"
Mr Self-Interest man
Mr  Ivy-league, Whitehouse, Whitehall...."Cambridge was better",
Mr  I can do all things that superman can.
Mr  “If we win the elections next year”...

Man

Take your leave,
your term is over,
School is out
&  
the old boys no longer love you.

Time!
to
run for
cover,
under the
colour,
of
your favoured
currency umbrella.

But

If you’re African  
"it's okay"  
you can stay a little while longer
and bequeath the throne
to your brothers', sisters', uncles', sons' junior brother!

Turn it into a dy-nasty

Bring on board;

Kwadjo,
Mary,
Abena,
Kwesi,
Uncle Nepa,
Sista Tism
&
Aunt Ivy.

Ah-Geee!!!

This nonsense is highly unpalatable
I’m past the word puke
my bile sack is empty
because your drunkenness is spreading

&  

y o u’r e

s t i l l

b l o w i n g

m e

f u m e s!



Your democracy
has made your Guinea-Pigs
demi crazy,
has captured this poets’ goat
Slaughtered it
&*
mandated this verbal frenzy

Enough!

Of this alcoholic experiment
I’m not drinking anymore,
I’ve cried blood!
and now *"my eyes are red"

Looking forward
to being 'tee-totally' sober,
while
U


c o n t e m p l a t e

t h i s  

v e r s e

o f

p o e t i c,

p o l i t i c a l,

M U R D E R.



**© Qwey.ku
Kwasi Boakye May 2015
Am tired of loving small, why can't I do it big
Am tired wishy love, why cant it be real
Am tired of self-dates, why cant I double
Am tired of imaginations,  lets have it for real
Am tired of midnight lonesome, lets keep the company
Am tired of ring-less phone, give me a ringtone
Am tired dreamy day, please make it live

Am tired of swaying, lets have a great dance
Am tired of wondering "if", I want it now
Am tired of sitting, oh! how I long to fly
Am tired of whistling, why can't I sing
Am tired of having halves, I want it all

Am tired of missing you, I want you now









CO-writer; Abena Sika
Abena,
There's fire on the mountain.
I heard from the grapevine
The demise of our love
Should I go on?
Mensah the news carrier
A backstabbing of hearts
A killer of dreams
He brought the news
The demise of our love
Clapping at my foolishness
Wearing a cocky smile
Exercising my grief
A tool of torment
The gatekeeper of sorrow
Amusingly so,
Nevertheless,
I portray a strong heart
Fighting,
Fighting to love no more.
The breakage of hearts

The adorning of your love,
I shall remember always.
The key of love
The assurance of hearts
A mileage of pretence
You stirred me forward
A trickery I fell gallantly
The spell you casted
Your response,
I await not.
Mensah the news carrier
A demise of love
I write thee

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
This is about a lover who was betrayed by his lover.

— The End —