The rain-Gods should
Give this greenhorn a reason
To why pain could
Appear this green-corn season,

Which baboon will make a sound
If the rich moon cannot be found?
Sometimes we play all day
Making sure that the clay
Does not decay,

But now our rock had bend
And who will lock and mend,
Ah, send the Gods a plea,
And it will end the cods a sea,

For the fear of might is oppression
Whiles the tear of night of derision
But nothing inside will look so strong
If something outside looks so wrong

Is this ice of life so conscious?
Maybe the price of life is so precious,
Men of Kush!
Have a pen for push

And never harm the Gods arm,
For their charm grows your farm,
The debtors have broken the palm-vine
Causing the ancestors to drink the palmwine
Indeed, what life sees as pain,
Must be given to death to explain.


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

In ruck and quibble of courtfolk
This giant hulked, I tell you, on her scene
With hands like derricks,
Looks fierce and black as rooks;
Why, all the windows broke when he stalked in.

Her dainty acres he ramped through
And used her gentle doves with manners rude;
I do not know
What fury urged him slay
Her antelope who meant him naught but good.

She spoke most chiding in his ear
Till he some pity took upon her crying;
Of rich attire
He made her shoulders bare
And solaced her, but quit her at ****'s crowing.

A hundred heralds she sent out
To summon in her slight all doughty men
Whose force might fit
Shape of her sleep, her thought-
None of that greenhorn lot matched her bright crown.

So she is come to this rare pass
Whereby she treks in blood through sun and squall
And sings you thus :
'How sad, alas, it is
To see my people shrunk so small, so small.'

This is the avenging of my mediocrity
Altering into virginal happiness
My ventilated train of thoughts
assist the obsoleteness
of the impression i had
of love.
my reverie of hope
a simple consideration to hold
something i've never come to grips with
for i cant hold on
to what the other has let go of
my knowledge grows
my hand's been raised
for quite some time
an indifference for beings
saturated in ignorance
for they're just caught up
in the years that have passed
my soft feelings
have turned to rock
by the beast himself
i held such languish
but now i toss it all to the killer
i'm walking across the line
of bitterness and betrayal
and grabbing what i missed:
a chance
for things to be
new again.

Subtle twists and turns
Make my thoughts tangle
Unsure of what hail Mary affirmation will redeem
What little intellect inferior artists contain
I am not being cruel
Or even over judgemental
Just honest. Truthful.
Prescreened, pre-cleaned
You did not pass muster
Left on the stoop to await another bus
Perhaps one more tolerant of shabby verse
Hopefully a few extra seats will be open to house your assumptions
Leaving ample space for your empty, arrogant rantings

When you come away from home you can be one of many things:
A ****
A partyanimal
A geek
A talker
A listener
A doer
A drinker
A social recluse
An alcohol abuser
A hustler
A bustler
A fanatic
A panicker
A best friend waiting to be discovered
A great lover in the cupboard
The list goes on
But we are all one thing:
A fresher
A newbie
A greenhorn
Streetfighters
Run up quarterbacks
Soldiers of Fortune.
And I realise it can be hard
With everything going on
Trying everything new
Trying to make friends
We can sometimes get caught up
And lose our field of vision.
If I could give one piece of advice
It would be:
Be who you are.
Standup for what you believe in –
People always come round to respecting that
If you don’t do shots
Drink beer
If you don’t like ****
Pass on it in a dignified manner.
I once knew a guy who lost his field of vision:
He ended up firing a rifle out of a second-storey window
Trying to hit the centre of the O’s on roadsigns.
It might have been the exuberant amount of alcohol
He had consumed that night.
I just don’t know.

12/30/2018

The eloquence of listless years is lost on heady overweening heels that submerge reality in a cavernous of oblique light shrouding the dark mysteries to come. Axiomatic but refractory we swim and tread danger and peril because the unsaid screams for awakening as the roosters outfox the owls and completely change history based on evil skullduggery that awaits the gainsay of titans compromised in security but elevated over the doldrums of quotidian thought. It is my solemn forbearance and consistent steadfast prayer for alacrity and industry to conquer the dudgeons of incurred opprobrium to clinch a beatific convivial festivity for a time-informed claque of leaders that delight in simplicity but dissemble their true disguise in open shark-infested waters. Salvage the impositions of the many and cull the best to anoint their favor on uncertainties improbable but likely as the discerning will master reality rather than be the dross of yesteryear. We swarm with importunate guilds of serfdom to surrender their edifice to the chiselers that operate and extravagate beyond bounds established by parochial priggishness that is a flagging patriotic insistence on drenched graft dank with the mildew of balkanization but not entirely as reproachable as some relics of the ancient law detest with misguided guile and paranoiac sophistry that is a precarious canker of otiose tastes drawling on with misinformed skepticism. The hounding gray in the pallor of alpenglow light ennobles the concatenations of wistful dread but at the same time esoteric flavor that enriches the emblazoned gallantry of the few to become the mainstay of all relevant considerations. Wish upon a coruscating menagerie of miscegenated aboriginal languages that have always abided in the shadows but exist in brevity among the elite coteries that coddle the world in its infancy away from the artifice of exegesis and the importunate placations of swarthy umbrageous shadows that exist apart from the factitious apartheid of race and gender. We must stand united as brethren enduring the tribulations of human vicissitude to abhor the diseased rhetoric of pandered puritanism amalgamated with aleatory financial alarmism calculated to swindle the dilapidation of penury that burns as a smoldering conflagration of concerted ignorance leading to ochlocratic determinism rather than a whispered percolated pedigree that drowns sorrows but simultaneously strands the pariahs of time in insular self-reflection unbecoming of an age that demands an importunate, ubiquitous and outspoken corporate altruism not superintended by a bloviated and tumescent dysnomy of congregated botched bureaucracies that encroach with a daunting donkey commandeered by headless horsemen who are only known by pennames and cognomens that flinch at the demise of their undeserved anonymity. We use valor as an instrument to prevent a scuttled vessel of a seaworthy humanity slinking along a very balmy coast as we await future instructions at the apropos time for a simpatico relegation of commercial collectivism. We expect instead a demassified world to enliven the dialectic of epistemology itself and renew covenants long ago moribund in their ragged and wretched desuetude that they may be vanquished as vestigial habiliments to the tatters of sloppy abnegation leading to a swollen piety that dares not to pretend but simultaneously believes so much in its pilloried hubris that it provides erasure for the secular enlightenment of a messianic time. Squalor and riddled eccentricity drive a brackish but saccharine attempt to homogenize the pastures that we graze upon but look no further than a bequeathed divine providence of smirks rather than the jibes of sneering ostentation. Whisper you fame rather than declaim against the arraignments of a scuttled pettifoggery of miscegenated justice that embroils foreign wineskins for domestic turmoil rather than the demotic enlightenment of the abrogation of inequitable laws that preserve the totemic dissolution of society rather than the prized ameliorative enlightenment of science informed by faith and faith beckoning the clerisy to seek supernal wisdom and furtive swank to reconnoiter the righteous and jettison renegades imploring for a piebald blinkered apostasy on a rudimentary subconscious level but never realizing their effrontery is gravid in a heedless ignorance interpolated by menacing secular hobgoblins that ransack barren treasure and cherish it as a trinket for a chrysocracy that is specious rather than veridical. Barnstorm for justice but appoint the abeyance of foolhardy prescience so that the enigmas of time can beckon their own deliverance through a culmination of waggish flickers rather than the kowtowed toadies of a quidnunc reality divorced from proper temperance outmoded but thriving among those that disavow newfangled foudroyant spectacles. Always and with alacrity indulge the gladiatorial sportsmanship of a zeitgeist beyond contention as the paragon for livid dreams and lurid imaginations to drive the mutiny against plebeian ears and purblind eyes. Live for the eternal present with providence and forswear the vestigial fossils of flippant eras domineered by dragooning fictitious sentiments buttressed by castles built against the encroachment of the imaginary foes of vassal states that submerged the world in a fideism that rejects too many axioms of modernity to vie for preponderance. The government is not irreproachable, but it is a primeval reflection of the propensities of an aggregated society flippant against choice wisdom of the ageless Constitution that is peremptory proof of the divine providence of sempiternal liberty. People that chide against liberty because they fear precarious cankers that endanger from a distance because of their swollen specters need to uphold a commitment to a wistful remembrance of tragedy but a sturdy ruddy optimism to perdure and prosper on this greenest of worlds for both the greenhorn and the expert alike. Never kowtow before the altar of avarice and always pilfer resourceful contemplation in the respite of quiet times that engage our best faculties to awaken rather than slumber. Recruit the collective imagination to superintend chaos and the leviathan becomes tamed because it requires human synergy in both prosperous times and desperate measures to foment the earth with the brontides of due warning simultaneously murky and misleading but always reflective of an irenic pasture of withering sheep and abundant shepherds. Regal promises have always loitered in the penumbras of the elite but now is the time for absolution rather than scattershot contumely. We believe in the federal way and the state farm system and we don’t believe in foreign monoliths becoming the pasquinade of slippery hebetude that ensnares the immobilized futilitarianism of ignorant creeds and divisive claptrap. Barnstorm together for God and liberty as those two principles-however squandered they might be by listless speculation that doesn’t hinge upon the concerted subaudition of the deeply fathomed sources glistening with profundity- will clinch a victory for the beatific future of a guided humanity rather than the guileless intemperance of choleric fools who wage conflagration against only their own plodding ignorance rather than reaching with outstretched hands and tenacious grasps to invent the future according to the helical perfection of the past. May God rule forever on earth! A prosperous earth! An Earth filled with pleasure and an Earth that approximates heaven more closely every day. Amen  



12/31/2018

Riddled by bewildering supernal designs of an ineffable splendor that drapes reality in iridescent cloaks of rigorous and strenuous limber we trounce through the effigies of a profaned pasquinade to gallop through the doldrums of time for the allocated investment in the refined human condition to exacerbate the declension of foes but link the Abrahamic faiths with taciturn reflections and wizened countenances beckoning a newfangled harmonious destiny. Livid are the naysayers who proffer gainsay with insouciance and flippant sorcery to denigrate sacrosanct axioms with persnickety maxims that are only auriferous when viewed through a refracted entropy of disdainful speculative mutiny against propriety in values and stances. I sidle through a refractory zeitgeist despised for my aureate temerities against the chided condemnation of those who flout so-called gobbledygook because they lack stringent acuity and pale to the polish of ennobled grace that anoints favor and felicity on the laurels of an age very intransigent against latitudinarian capriciousness that will one day ransack the world of its flickered graft and its paltry obsessions with quondam gaucheries. A house divided against itself will flounder because of titanic pressures of oblique balkanization that is opaque only to the hounded ignorance of wishful but labile people who wage acerbic gambles against the delegated authors of an aborning covenant for irenic reconciliation in a blinkered piebald world. I like to saunter in private with my insistent lucubrations because I know the majestic gestures of jest are more bountiful in their fecund harvest than any circumlocution of blunt poetasters who calumniate the verve of self-made upstart grandeur that I brandish at every opportune occasion to pilfer my due inheritance from the coffers of a self-fulfilling fatalism divorced from solipsistic monisms and the denigrations of the futilitarian quest to deprive sustenance in the exercise of deft skepticism disempowering the perspicacity of miserly mendicants who treasure their science but pale in their trepidatious momentary twinges of faith that are insincere and unctuous abominations against a steadfast God that wallops our misery with the lurched progress of human amelioration wrought by the succor of alien wizardry beyond even the most quixotic imaginations of people who in their prolixity miss the pithy glib sacraments of a terse and burlesque pragmatism. I simper because I know about carbon emissions statistics with hearty gusto and a convivial banquet of amalgamated personalities and wraiths that emanate from the ether of the 12th dimension of reality: transdimensional interspecies sentience. I wrangle on the outskirts of a bustled city embroiled in a relegated civil war entangling plebeians and plutocrats but not engorging any coffers in a zugzwang destined for pejorative scuffles rather than synergistic revivals of the human fraternity, a consensus about intellectual meliorism that will fossick with due efficiency cognitive resources frittered away in the respite of laziness and the abeyance of prospective diligence to conquer rather than waylay with furtive gambits of appeasement. Everyone need to leapfrog beyond the quotidian plane by indulging the oneiromancies of self-efficacy aggrandized by presidential favors and collective efforts to unite the 16th version of reality with the penultimate version of reality. For the ultimate version of reality is corporeal death upon which we are transplanted unto an ethereal dimension beyond contemplation without the horological diminishment of wizened age.  We trudge in the miserly conditions imposed by pharaohs of pettifoggery that swindles with blustery graft and strident intimidation of the audacity of hopes and dreams to foment the requisite fin de seicle zeitgeist that deserves more of a heyday with the revivalism of nostalgic entertainment against the opprobrium of inferior tastes facile in formulaic conformity but deficient in its nutritive enrichment of beatific festivities that traverse the earth at lightspeed because of the vehement energy of foudroyant amazement is beyond contagious when conveyed through the dexterous vehicles of more centralized rather than skeletonized organization. The bonhomie of a copacetic future demands the interpolation of scrupulous adherence to authoritative dictums but the laissez-faire demagoguery of titans trouncing the ragamuffins of cacestogenous upbringing in a miserly husbandry that stunts the stilted imaginations of formalism rather than bequeathing a seminal insemination of a future hybridized race mechanized but humanized simultaneously to accomplish what would once seem impossible that now looms considerable with the democratization of the furtive at a faucet’s trickling pace to empower the future to heed the past and the pastors to revere the eschatology of final conditions rather than a favoritism for aboriginal barbarisms created by the snare of hobgoblin phantasms that exist only to make us tremulous rather than swanky. May God bless this great green earth with many decades of prosperity to come and heap plaudits on the intellectuals fighting the fight against simpleton groupthink. Have a very festive New Year!

those beautiful eyelids of yours
darkened by days of weariness
when our eyes met
sparks flew out of control
as the anguish beneath us
reconstructed

pages of adventures followed
the scribbles
the interlocks of legs and fingers
clinging onto me
afraid yet secure

12 days, XII
rapid pace, as i wheeze and heave
you smiled
assuring everything is fine
lips on lips
we will make through this

path of memories and chatters
relishing our experiences
coffee, tea, soup
underdogs of social circles
pondering upon
our similar circumstances

guitar and piano
greenhorn, beginner
rollercoaster melodies
limits as high they were
couldn’t salvage us

12 days, XII
12 divide by 3
that’s how long we lasted
staring into the streetlights
trying to touch you
6 strings, soaked

as i write this in the time of XII
keys and strings
they never go well
sober is my name
i’m madly drunk in love
with you, yet
we were not meant to be.

x
                                                               ­     Do you remember
                                                        ­                 the last time
                                                            ­        you said the words
                                                           ­                     "I
                                         ­                                     Love
                       ­                                                       you"
     ­                                                                 ­          ?

                                                    ­                +          +          +

    I don't

    I don't remember

    I don't remember
    the last time
    that I said
    "I
    Love
    you"

    I don't remember
    when I said it
    or to whom
    or why

    And now I can't escape this
    rotting feeling
    that this isn't a memory
    we should ever out-grow
    That this isn't a memory
    we should ever out-live
    That this isn't a memory
    we should ever get
    too far away from
    Now that I realize it's gone
    I feel adrift and lost without it
    like a greenhorn just realizing
    he's lost sight of shore
    for the first time

    The sudden realization
    that I couldn't remember
    that I've lost this memory
    that it must've been so long
    since I last said it
    to anyone
    for any reason
    that I've lost it completely
    sits so alien and unreal in me
    That I could've ever lost something
    so important
    something
    that has always just
    been there
    before
    something
    that should just be a backdrop
    to the rest of my life
    now gone
    and I didn't even notice it
    didn't miss it at all
    until now
    It's as if I suddenly realized
    one wall of my house was missing
    exposing us
    letting in the whether
    and I can't even remember
    when it happened

    And this is all only preamble
    just the lead-in
    to the real question
    Why?
    Why can't I remember?
    Why have I forgotten?
    Why has it been so long since I last said it?
    Why haven't I said it?
    Why did I ever stop?

    What am I waiting for?

Chaos is a ladder to a more conducive unknown,
A daredevil chance at advancement and progress.
Maybe it’s defeatist to react to it with scorn.

Being in the belly of the beast’s sickening to the bone,
Discomfiting and a tad demeaning, fraught with distress
Chaos is a ladder to a more conducive unknown.

One might wonder how much one can condone.
Being caught in the crosshairs is the best moment to assess.
Maybe it’s defeatist to react to it with scorn.

A stiff upper lip to mask a frown
Will keep the peace so as not to appear under duress
Chaos is a ladder to a more conducive unknown.

It’s fairly hard to be attuned to adversity, everyone’s a greenhorn
Nevertheless, it should spur us to be hot on the heels of success
Maybe it’s defeatist to react to it with scorn.

Superstition takes one’s eyes off the prize, hence likely to bemoan
Fallibility rather than take the bull by its horns; a caricatured mess
Chaos is a ladder to a more conducive unknown,
Maybe it’s defeatist to react to it with scorn.

An apple lying two small divots
from the base of a tree,
I inherit inertia.
The son of a son of a son of a son of a farmer -
harvest, market,
settle up, rest.
Success is an even account.
Await the herald of spring.
Repeat.

In youth
I ran to knowledge
like a sponge at a spill.
Everything I wanted
was in the course
not at the goal.

After thirteen years of
trying to make Her happy,
my cup was long past empty.
A vacuum ******* in dregs
discarded on a back room floor.

After twenty years of
trying to make Him happy,
I float on a buoyancy
that stymies the sunrise
by flirting with sunset.

Now past greenhorn salad days,
a compass flutters.
The poles deconstructed,
magnets refute desire.

Comrades say their differences
make them Beautiful.
I am Beautiful because I survived.
If I am different,
that requires an entirely new stanza.

I rest this pole on my shoulder.
Tied in an orange bandana :
an apple, a sponge,
a compass,
a vacuum, a jar of buoyant air.
I am Weary Willie
setting course
on open path.