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Song of Desolation

My life is plagued with sadness
Maddening depression that has sworn to drive smiles away from my face
Those that have birthed me have stolen every bit of happiness away from me
They birthed me together with forlornness; and have tasked me to stay by the side of my twin

I am an island; surrounded by things of no interest to me
I am forbidden from the things I love
My passion has been exiled
Cursed to roam the foreigner’s lands – never to return home again

I am a prisoner; locked in an eternal cage of solitude
I am chaff, blown in different directions by the wind of my masters
I will nothing of my own; and sing only songs of my masters
My life is defined by the wishes of my twin
I tell you; loneliness knows me by name

 

Photo Credit: independent.co.uk

DZIDZOR

 

I have a story to tell. I must tell my story. My tale is a sad one embellished in the juicy stupidity and ignorance of a young me. It is said that he who laughs last, laughs the best and good things come to those that wait; but it is not always so. I am living proof of that assessment. I am an epitome of a soulless man wandering this earth for the next available force to snatch up and destroy.

There was this girl I admired so much. So much that I would readily make the ultimate sacrifice for her any day and anytime of my sorry existence. From far away, I could tell she admired me too and would readily accept my proposal. But fear and cowardice stood guard over me every second of everyday. They stretched their poisoned swords towards me and cautioned me not to take a step farther. And being an ignorant fool, I thought I had time and that love would surely take me one day into the compounds of Dzidzor, my love.

One might be tempted to be content with the proceedings of my story. Do not be! As this tale is not that of a happy ending. For he who drinks a calabash full of the locally distilled akpeteshie; with a smile on his face is a hypocrite and a liar. A fool like I was, I believed I had time to make myself a befitting gentleman, worthy of asking my Dzidzor’s hand in marriage.

For this, I embarked on a journey to my mother’s village, to find myself a good job so I can make enough money to offer my love the happy life she deserves; one befitting a princess. After six months of hard work, I had made enough to return home to fulfill my ambitions. My mother had died three months after I got to her hometown. I was grieving, but I had the memory of my Dzidzor to give me comfort.

I began my two-week journey back to my father’s village. Fourteen days until I saw Dzidzor again. Fourteen days until I could call her mine. A week into my journey, I saw Dzidzor on a dusty footpath leading to my village. She had a few of her clothes tied up in her favorite wrapper. She told me she was fed up with waiting for me and so she set out on this journey to ask me to come back home, and that she wanted nothing from me; nothing, except my love and devotion. You should have seen my excitement when this news came to me. I was surprised she knew the reason why I had left the village, since I told no one the reason for my journey. But why tempt fate and ruin such a good fortune? We celebrated our love on our way home. We made love. We were happy. We were in love.

When we got to the outskirts of our village, we were greeted by a mighty stench. A smell that was foul enough to drive flies away. But Dzidzor asked me to go pluck a mango fruit she had seen about five hundred meters back. She said she had a sudden craving for one. I happily set out to pluck this fruit for my love. When I returned, Dzidzor was nowhere to be found. I searched for hours and decided to go into the village to look for her. Perhaps I spent too much time plucking the mango. Perhaps she waited for me at home.

The village was empty, buildings were destroyed, the palace was torched, bodies lay everywhere. Apparently, there had been a war shortly after my departure to my mother’s village; and all the townspeople were killed. Women and children were not spared. The head of the chief of our village was on a spike in front of the torched palace.

I quickly ran to Dzidzor’s hut, and there she was, as beautiful as ever. Even in death, her smile consoled me in many ways.

No! She can’t be dead. No! I had been with a ghost this past seven days. No! Death has stolen from me the essence of my very existence. ‘Blewu lorlornye. Baba!’ This is my story; and it’s a sad one indeed.

Kofi Dzogbewu

UNBREAKABLE 

I thought I was falling in love
But I was rather falling apart

My heart is in a total eclipse

I’ve sold my soul to the devil

And he’s taking me straight to hell

I’ve committed the unthinkable

And my vows are held unbreakable.
I thought she was as pure as the dove

A love that would never depart

My heart is in a total eclipse

How could some be so evil?

Her name keeps ringing in my ear like a bell

I’ve committed the unthinkable

Now my vows are held unbreakable.

SOUL FOOD

Feed my soul
For my soul longs for you

Replenish my aching soul

I have lost it to the soul eater

So have many others
I see it now; the others; like me

Who have had their souls fed

The soul food is love

With every breath of love, a part of my soul is restored

He brings happiness to my heart and fuels it with pleasure

He radiates nutrients to my soul and restores the essence of my person
Love feeds my soul

I now smile at the world, for I have found what I had lost

Through love and happiness, they have returned to me

Now I embrace you like a bench vice

With a mindset of never letting you go.
              -Kofi Dzogbewu 

SOUL EATER 

My soul aches
My soul is in pain

I have lost pieces of the immaterial part of my being

The soul eater opens his mouth wide to consume that which operates my life

With every aggravated breath, a part of my soul chips away
I see many lost souls; people like me

People whose souls have been eaten away

The soul eater is hate

He lurks in the shadows and fuels my heart with apoplexy

Only to turn around and eat away the essence of my person

Hatred eats my soul
I now struggle to restore what I have destroyed

Through my hatred and my anger

Now my priority is to find some soul food 

And replenish my aching soul.
                 -Kofi Dzogbewu 

MOMENTS 

And then the fleeting moments of life becomes the cherished memories of our existence

God made man
Man made life
And life inspires fun

Unappreciated seconds of life
Births the lasting canvases we scribble
Flashes of our essence
Night sea breeze
Wandering waves of happiness
At HINI central

Town of unappreciated beauty
Nature’s own masterpiece
Ghanaian music
Lasting friends
Sweet local dishes
Liquor brewed with love

Sounds of laughter
Smothering voices
Tunes of human crickets
Parading seashore dances
Male and female bonding
Body against body
Skin to skin
Natural body responses.

Plaguing compulsion for the pleasures of the flesh
Left foot. Right foot
Turn around.
Ecstasy, euphoria abound
Moving figures enchanted by the Azonto.

Happiness
I see you smiling at me……

​LIFELESS STORYTELLERS

This is a piece of writing in response to Poetra Asantewa’s “Coroner”

(A Response to Poetra Asantewa’s “Coroner”)

Death beckons on us all at the climax of purposely arranged circumstances

Whiles Life sits idly by and mocks our struggle against fate

I have investigated by inquest hundreds of deaths not due to natural causes

Some sad. Some pitiful

Some occurring with a bang –

and some of them so pitiful, you can’t help but give in to laughter

I spend all my days hiding from the commotions of the living

I prefer to hang around the silent corpses and dead essences of once promising humans

The stories these lifeless bodies tell are so full of life, its poetry.

Yesterday, the body lying on my table told so good a story, I broke out in tears

The seeming delicacy had within its splitted hollows an artistically woven autobiography of a life lived in solitude, love and music. 

The dimensions of her story branched out in colorful embers of vicious membranes laced with tunes from a flute of African descent

Others have told tales of heartbreaks and migraines and depression smothered by injustice and tribulation that the mind can’t begin to imagine

They told stories of young humans getting caught in a web of pointless affairs and insignificant hurts of yore.

They spoke of modern butterflies plagued with curses of ancient moths and whispers of the dead.

These lifeless storytellers all have their stories spiraling in an abyss of guilt, regret, torture, shame and a lot of unanswered questions; except my dearest Afreh 

My favorite storyteller – Afreh nuamah – narrated her tale in acoustic tunes of contentment

She had a steady stream of happiness in her life story

This, she acquired through defying society and chasing after her own happiness

She sung tales of gigglish love affairs and tickling streams of pleasure ……
Dear voice seeking answers, you define your own storyline in your own handwriting

And even I, your coroner, cannot tell you your story

I can only read them within the splitted catacombs of your lifeless body.
Image source: https://goo.gl/images/Qh7sa5

TALES FROM 2065

Episode Two – Bouncing Baby Boys (Part 2)

A series of stories about the experience of a young boy in the University of Ghana. The stories are mostly true with some fictionalized parts for the benefit of the story.

Episode Two – Bouncing Baby Boys (Part 2)

The next bouncing baby boy is Brian. Brian is a little shy with the ladies and always needs a massive push in order to make a move (if what he does can be called a move). There is much to say about Brian because he was always too afraid to make a move. Roland and Erik’s experiences have frightened him so much that he has refused to readily put himself out there for disappointment. That is not to say that he hasn’t been bounced. He has. Brian after several attempts by his closest friends to get him in a relationship, finally got very close to a beautiful maiden. The rest of the group praised him so much for overcoming the tempest of loneliness. I remember going to church that Sunday to thank God for blessing my friend with such a beautiful companion. Even Roland was threatening to steal her from Brian if he delayed in concluding the deal (the greedy idiot). 

Brian was bounced by this lady whose name is synonymous with victory. I guess the victory was over Brian. This nearly destroyed Brian. He later told us some BS about how his church would not allow a union like theirs. I mean, like really? Brian later found favor in the eyes of a beautiful lady with a perfect attitude. This was after the group had vigorously presented Brian in the best light possible to this lady. Her name was Nella. Mind you, this is the same Nella that bounced Roland in the past. Brian was too scared to make any move whatever. One bitten, twice shy right? A month or so passed and just when Brian had finally gathered all the courage to do anything, Nella became fed up and bounced him off. Welcome to the family bro.

Brian and Roland got tired of their inability to win the hearts of any lady on campus (which they called their ISSUES) so much that, they found love in the bottle. They had a saying: s3 ab3 baako b3 sei de3, anka kookoofuo enshie (for one palm tree to get spoilt, then the cocoa farm should rather burn). This is because the palm tree would be used for brewing palm wine. 

Master Kobla was the star of the bouncing baby boys. Every one of us looked up to him; because as much as he was bounced, he also won. Kobla was bounced by Lucy – a political science mate of his. She bounced him for a Deeper-Life dude with no game whatsoever. He also came up with the same BS excuse Brian gave. He was also bounced by another mate – Phoebe – who is now a talented make-up artist. And there was Beatrice too. She bounced him bad.

But Kobla was the boss. He had succeeded in in his bid to be a relationship with two ladies while we were on campus – Geneva and Deborah. He even turned down the affections of a beautiful lady, Robin. This is the same Robin that bounced Erik some time back. Kobla is the hero among us bouncing baby boys. Remember these names, you will surely meet them again.

Finally, there is me. The last bouncing baby boy. I have only been bounced once. Okay twice. Alright there is a third time but that one doesn’t count. That’s all. I was bounced by one annoying little princess who thinks she is all that. (rolls eyes repeatedly in their socket). Fuhmida bounced me so subtly it didn’t feel like a bounce at all. I was also bounced by a relative of a well-known writer who I think wasn’t ready for some ‘sugar’ at the time. “Felix, I have suffered!” 

Not to brag, but some of Kobla’s charms must have robbed off on me. I had succeeded in dating a beautiful lady while on campus. I had a girlfriend; and she wasn’t imaginary like the one Brian claimed to have had. And oh, I also turned down the affections of one Cecilia. I am more like Kobla than I thought. 

Despite our shortcomings and failures in getting accepted into a relationship, we hold our heads high and keep fighting till the right women welcomes us into their hearts. We will always be friends and be there to support each other. We are the BOUNCING BABY BOYS.