Tuesday, 29 September 2015

Afraid


I am not afraid of love 
I am afraid of you and what love could make you do.
See, I saw you paint a face black and blue at noon.
The heavens threw a fit and burst open
as you layered her in bruises and smooches;  tsunami of your love. 
This was long before you knew, I had already seen the real you 
And as you stand before me, imploring me to choose you, I remain convinced this;
I am not afraid of love, no darling I am afraid of you.

Sunday, 13 September 2015

Pen on paper and no words
flow
because the stories I want to
tell
played it safe and stayed
home
let me see you try writing out your
heart.

                --hiatus--
G.L.A

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Be Inspired

Be inspired to leave footsteps at the door.
The kind that has never been seen before
One that leaves eyes feasting in awe. Be more.
When you sleep, wake up informed, don't fight
to recall what yesterday promised to transform.
Don't wait for crumbs to be scattered at your feet from elites abroad
Packaged and labelled "aid" but spells debt on your receipt but still you eat

Be inspired to fight ignorance that climbs up your decor.
Don't let it leave its permanent stains on your walls. No!
Pay no attention when it calls, let it nudge at their misconceptions
Feed on the prejudice. It ignites ambition, births innovation, demands
recognition. Run the course without their torch, it flickers and is weak.
Run it blind, till sweat beads start to forge, you are stronger than they thought
Break bread but don't desire the dessert of lies. It gnaws at your brain sucking
out your thoughts and replacing it with an empty encore. Lose that appetite.

Be inspired to defy the odds. Let your pride dictate your walk
Do not let them tag you with that "third world" label at all
Remember you do not represent the norm. Be the exception.
Let them wonder and exclaim at the way you carry your name
Don't jump out of your skin when you lay eyes on its opposite
Whether you live on the outskirts of the last century or hold the
status quo for today's society, refuse to bow down to it. To them.
Stamp out inferiority tendencies. Do smile, offer friendship but don't serve
it like an automatic right. What's malaria when you still nurse manipulative bites

Be inspired to grow; out of those torn clothes, adorn yourself with
priceless knowledge, let your children live on it and build on their dreams
Starve out hunger, orchestrate a new order. Your own way of things.
Disengage from symptoms of slavery. Snap off those puppets strings
Preserve your fading identity, Hide it! Don't trade it for their gold.
You'd only be paying for something you already own. Refuse to be sold.
Shift your ideas and products on their gross domestic grid. Don't fall to their
expectations; rise above it. Leave your mark on it. Wipe your feet.
Be inspired to compete, abandon the backseat. Excel. Africa! Be inspired.

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

My Almost...

We usually sat right there; our laughter imitating Adjowa's snobby chants
"My mummy says...my mummy says..." The girl never gave it a rest
The faces you pulled when she smiled at you, eyes turning mischievously
sketching out yet another of your pranks to be executed on my request
Lets make it a special one; vanilla sundae surprise sprinkled with RED ants.

Saturday morning. The light tapping sound births a frantic race to the door.
Mum always gets there first. “Kwame's here!” she calls out, ushering you in.
Insistent persuasions of 'Eat SOMEthing'. You drown her in  POLITE excuses.
Scrambling under my bed, my desperate search tattooed on my shin
Chalewate. Where did I put it? Normal routine but always a chore.

We break into a run, feet sinking into dewy sand, hands LOCKED in a sweaty grip
Half eaten TOM BROWN long forgotten. My favourite. Women in worn-out kaba
and sleet,swiftly barging through busy streets leaving behind tiny frames struggling under
 heaps of Saturday bargains;  plantain, yam, bundles of kontomire and fresh bacon strips
The stifling traffic bursting at the seams, swallowing up the tranquility of the morning

I never saw any roses. Still, mum insists that wasn’t the reason behind the name
The dorm room could easily be mistaken for a mini airport, bloated with piles of luggage,
carelessly FLUNG across bunk beds and excited girls spewing out high pitch cries of “you got in!
I stand transfixed at the door feeling out of place and jaded; a whole new world. A different language.
My reality for the next four years swinging loosely off the hinges, hanging without a FRAME.

Lights out spelled trouble. Creaking floorboards betrayed shadows sliding through narrow
spaces. I wonder if you sneak out into the glitz of the night. You're probably there right now.
Jams dance floor; face contoured in mock concentration, creating a STIR with unapologetic cheek
and flare. you ask of me, always. Have you settled in now? or are you still wearing that defiant frown
You probably won't believe it but I have my entertainment CROWN to prove it; this life becomes me now.

Days fold into nights and that how we'd unite. sleep was a luxury only the gamblers could afford.
hunched over stacks of forgotten theories. Welcome to uni. Would Aristotle bat on eyelid  at my losing
battle with Syllogism,or would he endorse my reasoning. In the subconsciousness of my thoughts
lies the truth. You are my major premise but my conclusion remains incomplete; boiling over in sweet confusion until simmered into nothingness with a whisper. A minute short of taking flight, that's how high my heart soared

The first finger of the new millennium filters through the cracks.How many years has it been?
tumbleweed of past rolls into the present leaving a trail of memories and now we're to MEET
As I scan the faces in the room, I can't help but thank mum for vetoing my washed out dungarees
There you are; unusually handsome, glancing at the clock and back at the menu list, I don't think I could eat
Suppressing a skip, I BLUSH at our memories; when you took my hands into yours and called me your queen

 You smile and I fight a spell; dizzyalmond shaped eyes. Not mine. You wrap her silhouette in a hug 
She laughs. My dress feels sticky from the heat of imposing eyes poring into ME. I feel out of place.            An EXpected intruder. I achingly will my legs to move but they stand, stupefied, shocked into dormancy
as you leaned down, parted our worlds and dived into hers.You look up. Disoriented. My face; CAKED 
 in a smile. I'm glad. Tossing back my braids, I walk out, head held high and biting back threatening tears.
with each painful stride, I dust off our memories and breathe in my lost years.You're an error; debugged.





Monday, 6 June 2011

Mixed Emotions

its scares me that i don't wana put the phone down
even when we argue and i tell myself to do it now.
its crazy, this chemistry, its so new to me and i don't
know what to make of it, so i'm gona set it free.

set it free like let it flee or should i just let it be?
i guess i'm unstable because i'm unable to disentangle
myself from what i fear is just a girly bubble.
this is silly! a message from you makes me giddy
i never do this besides you hardly know me.

i hate it when you call me baby but i really want
you near me and i don't mean clich├ęs like holding
hands and picking through a choice of tofu
i mean kicking back with a grab of soul food
just chilling and catching up on whats good.

i never really thought i would like you. you seemed
a lil obnoxious and thought u were too cute. so
this is an accident, one i'm finding real hard to mend.
but your quite cool and maybe a lil misunderstood but
never use that as an excuse cuz i'll be the first to scream "bull!"
lets face it we're complete opposites so i can't really place
this. you and i? can u trace it?

i wana be a friend one u can count on, one who will always be there
not one that you would call your boys and say "yeah i did her."
i wana know you, read you better than an exam book cuz
living in the balance has got me confused and i'm not amused
so i resign myself to the thought of "its no use, he's just a
muse for a feeling all gurls have to go through". this is
what i say to myself to try and get over you.

but sometimes i fall asleep only to wake up in your
arms holding you close, feeling safe and unharmed.
laughing with you and making funny faces at ur hairy underams.
then i blink and realise it was all a dream so the next time
you call i convince myself not to respond at all. see i
gotta curb this or i will probably just fall. besides you've
had it all. ghanaians, nigerians, foreigners and all.
so its FOOLISH of me to even allow myself to dream at all.

i don't do emotion but with you its like i'm floating
on an ocean, i'm not joking. seriously! but don't quote me.
u've got me smiling at the weirdest timings and its got
people asking "yo lulu what gwaning"?
i wana be your friend one who cares and one who will
always be there, joke with you and get away with sniggering
at your silly glare. i wana be your friend, one who will challenge
you and DARE to call you unfair. yes i wana settle for friendship even if it means pretending this feeling is no longer there.

Thursday, 2 June 2011

Perfect Scar

Feet sliding off the porcelain floor, my dress carries the wind with it; rising and falling as I
sway my hips to the crooning husky voice on the radio. You tilt your head to one side and a
smile creeps up on your face. The dimpled one. You must be the exception to the rule.
Surprisingly ordinary yet extra-ordinary, date.
Pulled out chairs, opened doors, a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Picasso’s finished piece. 
You re-mould the missing patterns; An art
I'm on cloud nine. I'm arrollando! (overhelmed) in a conga. So carefree I release all worries into dance. Cha! cha! cha! Its a good day. You reach out for my hand. I feel a sudden tingle rush down my spine. Not ORdinary. My feet adopt a smoother rhythm. Waltz. You stare into my eyes and I smile into yours. Searchingly, you gaze upon my sweat beaded brow. I shift my weight clumsily from one leg to the other. A giggle erupts through pursed lips, shattering the silence enveloping us. You laugh. I'm SHY. You can tell.

I reach for the plates. Hair sweeping my face as I turned. Running; cool, warm, hot water gushing. Rich white foam. Tiny strips of spaghetti swimming in a thick creamy sauce; my plate. Your plate defines your appetite; Scraped clean. A SECRET compliment; thank you. My hands swirl around in the sink, chasing dancing cutlery. Its late, I think to myself.  You should properly leave NOW. I feel your breath on my neck. Dark sculptured fingers sliding down the arch of my back. An ease of movement. Foxtrot. Tightening. Digging harshly into brown silk. You gentleman.