a drop of libation

My ancestors’ prayed a prayer,
By pouring strong drink onto earth,
It sounded different, but unto God,
They prayed and implored
Twerepom Kwame, a drink,
We show you this drink,
But we do not offer it to you.
Asaase Yaa, a drink,
All ye gods and goddess, a drink
Spirits and souls of our ancestors,
Of our great motherland, a drink,
A drink we offer thee.
This day, we entrust ourselves,
your people, our country and
your realm into your hands;
Our request, your divine guidance,
The peace and joy, you offer;
A plentiful harvest and good health.
Wisdom, we ask, for our leaders,
The executive, judiciary and legislators.
For ourselves, we solicit for love,
Of self, neighbour and of nation.
An adherence to truth and
Obedience of the laws of the state.
Any force, which will arise,
Against our kingdom and its people,
Seeking to hamper the harmony,
And the prosperity you have created,
Any power, that hounds our sovereignty,
We cast to you, O sea god, a drink,
Drown and swallow them, a drink,
A drink to all you gods, a drink.

my love, my love

My love, my heartbeat;
Midway between adoration and worship,
Is where I place myself in your presence:
I do not know what to call that state,
But I know how it feels,
Comparatively, sensitivity is numb.

My love, my pulse;
Smile has carved its features on my face,
Because my fixation is stuck on you.
You are the essence of my world,
Shh, shhh and hushes, whispers all around;
Charmed? Their understanding is flawed.

My love, my throb;
How can I make the world understand?
That it was in your arms I found ecstasy;
In you, I have perfected love,
A love so sugared, it makes honey taste sour.
Contentment is what I have found in you.

My love, my thud;
The first time you kissed me,
The stars give forth a little more light;
An aristocratic chill froth from the dusk breeze,
My senses awoken and I became aware of me,
My soul you set free that night.

My love, my all;
My individuality, you let me keep,
And I have learned to live with you in unison.
My emotions, I have bottled and I control,
The fruit of freedom have I tasted,
Ecstasy it is called and sugary it is.

My love, my love;
Is there a company more desirable than yours?
You have become the lens through which I see.
Your whispers serve as the origin of my acumen,
And your smile awakens my sensuality.
The curvature of your lips smiling, dazzles me.

My love, my goddess;
Rhapsody my body experiences in your embrace;
My nostrils are constantly filled with your smell,
The resonance of your laugh still pulsates in my ear,
And your touch loosens my nerves in a whirlpool.
Bliss, it is I recount.

My love, my fetish;
Admiring you is praising God,
For your beauty is more than bewitching,
Glowing like the silvery dew under the moonlight.
Intelligence and esprit cultivate your intimacy,
You are a faultless imprint of my sexual fantasy.

religion is sick

O Religion, you are very sick!
Filled to the brim with deceit and greed.
You lend yourself, the umbilical cord,
For the poor, the frustrated and the ailing.
Aren’t we all under the weather?

An invisible entrepreneur, you are;
In the howling storm, you offer relief,
Intangible products, displayed on your shelves,
At prices that leaves our pockets empty,
And yours full, it’s your little secret.

You are in bed with politicians!
The very virus causing our ailment?
Irony is a shaggy dog story,
No wonder, your profits are not taxed.
A charity? The richest industry, I say.

You make more money in a day,
Then weekly transactions on the stock market.
Through sermonization of prosperity;
Your congregation question not your objectives,
For fear of offending God.

You shout your goodness from the roof tops;
Materialism and consumerism has replaced your love,
Respect amongst men do you seek and ask for.
Compassion has lost its place in your heart,
Dining and wining amidst the suffering of the feeble?

The old way of worship is no longer fitting,
Tis the season when we enjoy the fruits;
Of our fathers’ labour, your homily delivered.
Give, believe and you will receive;
Truth twisted to outfit a selfish generation.

O Religion! A miracle we implore for thee;
You no longer trod the long narrow road,
Because you are so fat, partially blind and lame.
Your celebrity status is costumed by arrogance,
You have found solace on earth.

O Religion, in your affliction, you forgot;
The very canon you have preached for centuries,
Tis miracles you demand from Onyankopon-
How sick you are, testing the Lord God?
Implore His mercy, and turn away from your sins.