"kwame" poems
The rejuvenated year has finally shed
It’s twinkling leaf on my greenness,
Oh yes, my years have tasted the darkest
Side of the seasonal stainless moon,
Causing juvenile mango trees to bath
The malleable aurora dews,
This is my wind howling fiercely in the dark
And sobbing streams of tattoo tears,
My dreams have even caused my essence
To conjure the wordless spells of the ancestress,
Lest the dreary thunderstorm of thirst
Swims over my horrendous firmament,
Give a voice to the air!
For there is not a breath of air stirring
At my munitions of peace,
I can even feel the dry pulse
And the heartbeat of the naked Gods
Piercing the calm natural day,
Oh no, the Sun-Gods has drunk the
Stream behind my coloured walls,
Causing the stretch marks on the
Back of Mother Earth to bleach,
You dare ask Tweaduampon Kwame
To weep on your scorching pepper,
For the friendship of the pregnant clouds
Was indeed for the raining season only.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Wondaland, a.k.a. The Magic Metropolis
June 13th, 2021
Esteemed Readers and Writers, Gangstapoets and Hangarounds,
Gangstapoetry proudly declares that CREATION 96 is now the second unit of our Global Movement.
We are welcoming our new members. You are now a part of us. Much Love.
Tizzop
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Jul 28, 2021
Jul 28, 2021 at 8:12 AM UTC
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: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
Alert the Ankobeahene and Kontihene
To secure the women and children,
For the language is war,
Remind the Kyidomhene,
Nifahene and the Benkumhene
To caution their men
For a possible storm,
Men of war!
Fill the mighty *** of fire
With the water fetched
From the Godstwi river,
Do not forget to mix it
With the divine talismans,
For the pale-skin men
Who knocked our doors
With their good news,
Are now knocking our
Doors with their gun news,
Represent their commanders with stones,
And place them in the boiling mixture,
Has the omnipotent Kwame and
Mother Earth approved of this?
My servants, check on the ***
Whether it has disintegrated,
Then we expect defeat,
If not, play the drums
And blow the horns of war
In delight and strength,
War!
War!
War!
Who is to lead us?
For the *** on the fire has
Expressed our defeat by
Wailing and disintegrating,
Oh yes, nevertheless the
Gods and ancestors have chosen
The vibrant queen mother of Ejisu,
Ah, though we are fighting
A war of contempt,
Her Royal majesty,
Nana Yaa Asantewaa
Shall lead the entire Ashanti army,
Weep for your children,
Oh, great Krobea Asante Kotoko,
For they are going in
For an unpleasant defeat,
But for the sake of
The courage of Yaa Asantewaa,
We shall fight!
Fight!
Fight!
Fight! Till we see defeat,
For the moon moves slowly,
But by daytime it crosses the sky.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:27 AM UTC
I’m an African
Am a ture African
Am from the Land of the Red, Gold, Green
The land with its soil as fertile as the womb of the ****** Mary
I look at the World map and just the sight of the curves of Mama Africa arouses me......
see Is that piece not Hyde? Cos this shape de3 a no go lie,
It's set ablaze like the holy ghost fire
Hotter than the ghost pepper my mouth watery “aahh a Don tier"
Cos it' even tickles a shatta in the trousers and I feel it's movement against Newtons law of motion
Even Just the shape of the map of Africa already causing commotion
Hook
Africa 2×
We be one Africa aa
(Eeii ya one Africa)
Africa 2×
Ghana mother land
(Eeii ya my mother land )
Me mey3 Oman ba pa
Mey3 Oman Ghana dehye3 ankasa
The white man came to my land and with the sole purpose of preaching the gospel even when we had no chapel
Later maneuvered his way to barter trade our gold and valuable resources with hard liquor
And in a short while I mean a flicker, they captured my people and enslaved us into hard labour
And on 6 March 1957 a revolution lead by Dr. Kwame Nkrumah fought and led us to our independence
Chorus
I'm a free man free man
I said I'm a free man
(Eeii ya)
I'm a free man
I'm a free man
I'm a free man
(Eeii ya)
Freedom made me a free man even though I ain't the tritagonist of The Boondocks
I hear the reverb of Nkrumah's voice recurring out loud in my ears just like a jukebox
"(Sample)Ghana our beloved country is free forever.... (In Nkrumah's Voice)"
Meney3 anomaa, na 3mom membowa
Efiris3 afidea biara 3nheneme ( mom pene me3) (herrrrrrrrrr)
Na mey3 odefo) ahh me kuraa mens3m tumi
Oh yes I'm a free human being with an Independent will
A will that I will **** for, for real, because being a slave is just sick, I need a pill.
Repeat hook and chorus
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC
The dews of heaven
She downs like the morning
A mellifluous creature, surfed ashore
Myrtle amid thorns; Quiescent
Heart of a royal; highness
Resplendent in garment of sapphire; radiant
The lady gouldian finch
Melodies inspires ataraxia
Beautific as wysteria
It’s her loving heart beaming smiles
Stretches as thousand miles
Incandescent as candle on a hill
Beacon of hope
Oh hear
The susurrations of a Gold-Mantled Rosella .
Tj. kwame
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
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: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
In the morning –
The enemy advanced and
our shields were down
for our strength was divided –
As we sat down by the banks of the river, By Babylon, we drank mouth to the water diluted with the blood of our people –
we cried;
[Oh you left ‘us ugly, gallant men twiddling our thumps In outer space wriggling…]
our song was gone
and the grief was bitter,
an excruciating pain we suffered,
we prayed for an intervention
for the journey we had to endure,
the humiliation wasn’t diabolical;
the restrain on our psych was worst-
we were bulls that operates the plough the mole that pull the carts any resistances was rewarded;
deprived of food and water-
sleep deluded from our eyes
tears never came to their sockets-
day and night;
for the pleasure of our masterswelabored gruelingly through
the high mountains
down to the shallow valleys –
the storms came and the rains fell,
the sun rose radiating our skin complicating our plight.
Hearts became ******
for the hard times,
forceful than the logic of the mind,
for we wondered if we shall ever return…….
home.
Our home is become Rome
and we playing by their rules
W/ no course to own
The muscle of our voice impair’d
Our soul in perpetual despair Lashed with strikes of hardship
So we set the enterprise
Of digging holes in our hearts
An industry for pixie dust To ensure grandel dines w/ wine
As we labored to set
The wolfs off before dusk
Burning the candle of midnight
Until we sight the morning light
Hope; w/ ‘e bird took flight to…..
No where.
We were lost at sea ,
With wild whales with big bellies-
Petty are we finless fishes,y we wishutord;
Not that we couldn’t
But the bankruptcy of the trust we accord, The trustees of our wealth; Misjudge our worth,
Sold our oil to the pirates of the west-The custodian of our essence
Mistake our silence for sin
To bargain an endless spin
Nonetheless our green field….
foreseen……
(c) 2017-
Tj. Kwame Photo credit: LolitoCatahan@[pictify.saatchigallery.co
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC