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My Dei Tumi Moment

For the past month and a half, I have found it very tedious to come up with anything meaningful to write on. It is not as though I haven’t found topics. I started writing on how painful it is to be a creative person in this country, another one on a client who owes me and my crew money for the past three years for work done but is living the good life on social media and receiving all the 405488_10150429681401404_153185629_n.jpgaccolades from organizations, royals in Ghana and the office of the president( as for pay di3 they will pay or I’ll pull a Jocelyn Dumas very soon), poems on various themes, my unfinished novel, and other projects I have to work on.
It just felt like I wasn’t connecting to the various things I had to write on. Imagine trying to connect to your kasapa GSM phone in this era when people are talking about 5G or being invited to dinner with your up the ladder girlfriend’s family only to get there and realize that your knowledge in medicine does not go beyond swallowing Panadol for a headache during the entire evening’s conversation because her entire family have individual PhDs in the medical field and are ‘booklong’ people and you, a hardworking pupil teacher in Kojokrom who just happened to be born at the other side of the ladder through no fault of yours. I hope you get the drift now.
I really love to write for fun but I have realized that I have been struggling to do so for a while now. I can’t actually blame it on writer’s block because I write when I’m contracted to do so. And so, I have come to the realization that my lack of enthusiasm for writing for fun is due to adulting and priorities. Like many of you, when the priorities of adulthood begins to knock you on the head like those French teachers who escaped the civil war in Togo and wore faded starched Khaki pair of trousers pressed with box irons with tucked in linen Lome shirts used to do to us back in the days, you’d realize your survival mood self-archives the things you used to do for fun. In its place you begin to worry about all your insecurities about life and mount pressure on yourself like pressurized cassava dough sacks overloaded in a rickety hard body Isuzu pickup truck descending the Kpeve mountain on a market day
So here I am wide awake after 1:00 am thinking about all those moments I couldn’t wait to become an adult as a child and thinking to my myself, Mehn, growing up is a huge scam. If you do not agree with me on this, then I’m grateful I’ve been of great help to you like a broken disco watch but if you do, worry not, for its shall pass if you really want it to or you’ll just end up like those sunken ships at Prampram beaches with no treasures and do not forget to clap for me and let the accolades flow, for I have just had a Dei Tumi moment with you as my audience.

 
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Posted by on April 30, 2020 in Poems

 

Sing Babe! Sing

Sing babe

sing

let your voice soak our souls

in the dripping sacrament of our ecstasy

and ignite the night with our passions

for there is no reason of shame between us

we are a part of each other

flesh of flesh and bones of bones of each other

grinding to the wheel of fate steadily

 

sing babe

sing

let us get intoxicated with each other’s presence

as we feel the lyrics of our tongues’ music

when our lips collide with each other in a wild hive of desires

drawing an intense chorus of palpitating veins and hearts

causing our limbs to navigate the depth we swim in

let us breathe in deeply and hold our breath together

In a silent conversation where or bodies speak

and our hearts listen

 

sing babe

sing

let us glide on the wings of our voices

to touch the clouds that gloat to kiss our feet

whilst holding on to each other in a strong but tender embrace

and gently unfolding layers upon layers of raw and inert hunger

knowing that I belong to you just as you belong to me

let our bodies enter that utopian trance and convulse back to reality

remember that love brought us here

and it is that love that has set us free

stkg

 

 

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on March 28, 2019 in Poems

 

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A limping leaf waiting for rain

At first the sun rose in her eyes
she was a nymph in fairyland
the sun has been plucked out of her eyes
to her, beauty is dirt and pain mixed together
why can’t alkaline and water make her clean
or a bottle of aspirin would exorcise her pain?
maybe if she drank Holy water
or prayed in tongues, eyes would be opened
to see how messed up she is and redeemed
she might as well be a modern day female version of Isaac
who followed Abraham to the mountains for a sacrifice
with no knowledge of being the sacrifice, holy or unholy
she wants to feel loved and love
know and understand love for what it is and should be
but her horns are trapped in the bushes of her past
so she can’t ram down this wall of low self esteem
at 5 she loved the choruses of laughter he drew
from her soul as his fingers strummed her body with tickles
at 26 she quivers at the imaginations of how many times her innocence
was stolen with those same 10 fingers between 8 and 12
he told her, she brings him sunshine
but what sun casts dark clouds and sheds rains when it shines
now she is a living grave,
with no window or door to escape this entrapment of unworthiness
she fears the darkness but has no courage to turn on her light
she is a limp leaf waiting for rain

To love is to live
to love and be loved is to live fully
he is a star with his twinkle fading
his notion of love and trust is constipated
he believes being indifferent to love shown him is the norm
he is a sheep in wolf’s clothing
they say it is a phase
but the demons he faces are buried deep
in the marrows of his bones of his soul
that bleeds out his buried pain
calm on the outside
but broken like the walls of Jericho on the inside
every man must carry his cross they say
but how many crosses can one man bear?
he looks whole but is torn in pieces
like the garment of the savior shredded at Golgotha
is not the new creation he must be?
does what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
apply to a living dead?
at 6, her arms was the fortress he ran to
when nightmares came seeping into his pleasant dreams
at 29, he repels love from any woman as though it is a plague
because at 8 he was trapped by a living monster he thought was his refuge
she told him he was a man
her man under the cover of the night or when they were alone
but he was just a boy
now he is a living grave,
with no window or door to escape this entrapment of unworthiness
he fears the darkness but has no courage to turn on her light
he is a limp leaf waiting for rain

stkg 2018©

 

stkg 2018©14da03c180f34f31947c4ff4902d0044_18

 
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Posted by on August 23, 2018 in Poems

 

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IF ASKED TO DESCRIBE HER

I will tell them she’s the ninth time I tried to learn how to swim.

I will tell them she’s the salt in the sea that gives it taste. She is the sea. 

I will tell them she is asthma attacks.

I will tell them she is a purring cat.

I will tell them she never fails to roar and it is terrifying.

I will tell them she is hope in a broken promise.

I will tell them sugar is still sugar even when it is brown.

I will tell them I have seen reason in love not being a finished product.

It is a home constantly undergoing construction.

I would tell them I am everywhere except apart from her.

 
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Posted by on May 31, 2018 in Poems

 

Ah Look!!!

Ah Look!!!

We did not make vows
nor break rules

We just were painting a picture of love

With tears on a brush

You were the sun, I was what you wanted me to be
(that’s an irony, guys)

That is how we
chose our roles
That is what we
told our family.

We did not make vows
nor break rules

Instead, sunshine became a cold war
burning with a shivering effect

We did not make vows
For we drowned in the shallow ends
even before we could go deeper….arrrgh!

Look! Look what
we made us do
instead.
Pfft!

 

Inspired by Afya Kissiwa’s  poem ‘Ah Look!!’

 
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Posted by on November 22, 2017 in Poems

 

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Be Nice!!

Be Nice!!

Her head was buried in her book and so she didn’t see him approach her table. All of a sudden a shadow fell on her pages, causing her to raise her head and there he stood. He wasn’t particularly tall, he had a little goatee that looked as though it had been photoshopped onto his face. He was developing a little potbelly that would be a marvel when it matures but looked like a dilapidated yam mound in his tucked in shirt.

‘Do you mind if I share the table with you?’  He inquired,

Sylvia scanned the filled up restaurant as though he was talking to someone else, looked at him and without uttering a word, continued reading. Zee pulled the chair and sat down and signaled the waitress who brought him a menu which he scanned through. Before he placed his order, he looked towards Sylvia and spoke

‘Hi, can I get you something as a token for invading your space?’

Sylvia chuckled coyly, placed a bookmaker inside the page she was reading, placed the book on the table, gently raised her head and looked Zee directly in the eyes

Excuse me gentleman, did I tell you that I can’t afford anything here? Ooooh I look like a beggar to you eerh? Can’t a lady just be by herself without pervs like you bothering them? Mtcheeeew!!!

Zee was taken aback and embarrassed by her response to his request that he only could fake a sheepish smilein order not to respond in an equal measure, after all he was only trying to be nice after sitting at her table. Not wanting to draw more attention to himself from the other customers, Zee asked the waitress to let him know when a space was available so he could move.

For some strange reason there was no space available when the food Zee had ordered for was ready and so he was served at the table he shared with his ‘rude host’. The aroma of the food was so heavenly that it hit every damn nerve in Sylvia’s nose that her stomach rumbled like thunder. Damn if she had just been a little nice she would have had free lunch from this guy but hey the harm had already been done.  She raised her head and she locked eyes with him for a split of a second then she looked towards the entrance of the restaurant and then scanned the room. She then picked her phone from the table and began texting. After a while she let out a soft and muffled rant and a chuckle. Just then the table next to where they were sitting became free and without hesitation, Sylvia moved to it.

Zee couldn’t help but smile and shake his head at the turn of events. He tried to rerun the turn of events in his mind to see where he was at fault to warrant such a reaction from her but he just couldn’t find any.  He was contemplating approaching her when he was leaving the restaurant and dishing her a piece of his mind. He could feel himself begin to get angry. How dare she? She could’ve pushed Gandhi to violence with her acerbic tongue.  Lost in thoughts as he nibbled on the food in his mouth as he poked the one on the plate with his fork, Zee caught her at the corner of her eye getting up to hug a guy that had just walked in. Probably he might be her boyfriend, he thought to himself.  He smiled to himself mischievously and turned to glance at the gentleman who was being served a rant for being late.

Ooooooh shit! It was he’s university best friend and roommate Dan,

‘1bromo-2trichloro- 4ditwsetane’ he exclaimed!!! Dan turned and upon recognizing it was Zee got up and gave him a heavy handshake and hug amidst a volcanic laughter erupting from both of them.

Kwe agbormor when you land wey you no make I know saf? Charley you make fresh paaa ooooh’.

Daniel took a step back and sized Zee up before giving Zee another hug. At this point everyone in the restaurant was staring at the two who were somehow oblivious to the fact that they were loud.

Daniel then turned to Sylvia whose face had turned as pale as the flesh of an unripe mango and said, ‘Cuz, meet my homeboy Zee, the one you said you were dying to meet.’

 

 
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Posted by on June 17, 2017 in Fiction

 

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Love is Beautiful

Love is Beautiful

Nourish me with the firmness of your breast
As I bury my head in the valley of your beauty’s cleavage
Cause my heart to race with your touch
As you take my breath away with your warm embrace
Then resuscitate me with the taste of your lips
Juggle my thoughts with the swaying of your curvy hips
And let my emotions pendulum as you tickle my fantasies
I want to kiss you deeply with a fevered tongue inside your well of souls
Then drown myself in the pleasure of your womanhood
There I will allow myself to get lost in the scent and taste of  a pure woman
As I devour you without kindness and with my passionate rawness
I can almost hear the sounds of your rhythmic breath
Aroused as you whisper my name beneath the pleasure
Hold on, we are just friends now
But I dream of you as my lover
And so until that time when we can do what lovers do
Let these thoughts be a purgatory of desire

 
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Posted by on May 19, 2017 in Poems

 

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‘Sofi’- The Uncircumcised Curser

‘Sofi’- The Uncircumcised Curser

When a good man is planted in his grave, he does not germinate into a tree to give shade to his loved ones. Today we stand at this cemetery weeping as we lay to rest one of the realest people I have ever known in my entire life. The choir sings melodious tunes as though they we sent down by God himself as part of his disbelief that my dear friend has passed away. People from far and near have come to pay their homage to this great man. Tributes have been poured forth from mouths like water gashing out of the rock Moses struck in the wilderness. Even the President of the country is right here at the cemetery with us. Cameras are clicking and reporters are scribbling things in their notepads. This is indeed the funeral of a national hero. The priest raises his hand and a dead silence falls on the cemetery. Then with the trowel in his hands, he digs into the earth, pours the dirt on the polished oak wood coffin and says

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.

Well, I’m sure if wishes were horses, my friend ‘Sofi’ would wish his funeral was what I described above. But alas, just six of us are present to lay him to rest. The priest who I had to pay to perform the burial rites, the four young men who are the pallbearers, me and his one-eyed dog that looks like offspring of a bow-legged crossed-eyed bitch and one of her stray and starved lovers.  I met ‘Sofi’ as he’s popularly called throughout the village when I was in Middle School form 2. We were just being ourselves that day in the classroom when this man walks into the classroom. He looked dark and hard bodied like a copra that had its husk peeled off the shell and rubbed with a little bit of palm oil. When his shadow fell on the doorway, it was like a sculptured dark cloud had just been dropped right there. He walked in, scanned the room and walked to the empty desk at the back of the class and sat down without uttering a word. We looked at each other’s faces puzzlingly as though the answer to the question of who he was would pop out from someone’s face.  Then our class teacher entered the class and introduced him as our classmate. As the term progressed he and I became friends. I was the brains and he was the muscle. However he’s association with me had absolutely no effect on his intellectualism as he exhibited during one of our technical skills lessons.  A shovel was drawn on the blackboard and he was asked to identify what tool if was. Without hesitation, he shouted ‘Sofi’ with the confidence of a politician who was sure he had won an election and a smile that was like a piece of roasted yam that was puffed open by heat. The whole class erupted into a laughing zoo and thus, the name Sofi was conferred on him

The pursuit and the desire to make my life a better one took me out of the village whilst Sofi remained but whenever I was in town I made it a point to visit him at his home. Six months before his death, I heard that Sofi had won the lottery. It was said that, on the day he cashed in his win, he had a big party at home and had three fat Billy goats killed and prepared. Laughing gourds of foaming palmwine were order from Agbeko the famous tapper and the famous Minamiwoe wanyo boborbor troupe came to perform.  It is said that even the coronation party of the village chief was no match for Sofi’s party. It was under this party that my friend Sofi laid eyes on Dzidedi and like the saying goes, Wine comes in at the mouth and love comes in at the eye. On my next visit to the village, I was told Sofi was getting ready to be married. Which Sofi?  is it the Sofi I know who avoided women as a plague because his love advances was rejected by the young national service teacher posted to our school when we were in form four? How could a forty-eight year old man want to marry a twenty-two year old girl? Weren’t there more mature single women around? Truth be told, when I met Dzidedi, I was awed as though I had just seen the best magic trick performed. Her gait was rhythmic, her buttocks jiggled like that maracas during a charismatic praise session with each step she took and her breast looked firm like two freshly dug yam mounds laying side by side in the loose blouse she wore. And I told myself I understood why Sofi had fallen in love.

I watched in amazement how she came to sit of Sofi’s laps, played with his greying hair, tickled his ear lobes and both giggled. Instinctively I felt there was something weird about the relationship and when Sofi was seeing me off, I told him how I thought it was not a good idea to get married to Dzidedi. One could virtually see fumes coming out Sofi’s ears and nostrils like the exhaust pipe of Busy Boy’s bone shaker that traveled from the village to Ho twice every week. He accused me of being jealous of his success and progress in life and that I had just proven to him that I was not worthy of his friendship. I apologized to him for poking my nose into his affairs and went home.  And that was the last time I saw or spoke to my friend until I saw him hanging from a nylon rope on the huge mango tree at the entrance of the path that led to the farms.

It is said that, Dzidedi and her young lover duped him of his money under the pretense of helping him invest it in some gold business. Then one afternoon, he caught them in bed and when he confronted them, she ridiculed him publicly by calling him a foolish, impotent uncircumcised bed wetter.   Not able to withstand the laughing-stock he had become in the village, Sofi decided to end his life but not before he had walked stark naked from one end of the village to the other with his huge uncircumcised manhood and drooled scrotal sacs dangling left and right as he rained curses on Dzidedi and her lover saying that even the holiest of waters blessed by the Pope and angels would not render the curses impotent.

 
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Posted by on April 25, 2017 in Fiction

 

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I’m in LOVE with a MARRIED Woman

I’m in LOVE with a MARRIED Woman

If you are reading this, it means two things. One, I need you to understand that there is absolutely nothing you’ll think of me that I have not thought of myself. Two, this might be your truth someday so pay close attention

Now back to the substantive issue. As a child we are taught so many things by our immediate family and people we come in contact with but one of the major things that cannot be taught is how you fall in love and who you fall in love with. So today I’m parading my naked truth through this confessional write up. I’M IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED WOMAN and I want her all to myself. And oooh I made sweet love to her Friday night. Now I am not going to be like the proverbial old lady who blames her walking stick when she falls down so let me just make it clear that I take full responsibilities for my actions and I do not regret it. God knows this is true.

So I met her some five years ago at the mall. She was on a movie date with a friend of mine. As they approached my table at the food court, I could feel my soul drool in love. The black dress she wore enhanced her figure like a magnifying glass. Her calculated steps were so rhythmic that I closed my eyes and nodded to the sound of her footsteps. This my friends, was the first time I had seen a diamond in the flesh.  When we shook hands as we were introduced to one another, I felt a shock wave through my body that made me smile. She also sheepishly smiled back and I was just amazed by her. My friend hooked us up and we became very good friends and talked about everything and nothing. She knew my dreams like they were hers and vice versa. We supported each other through everything that it was clear that were meant to be together. In fact we were in love with each other.  Then she got married.

Was I heartbroken that she was married? Hell no! Don’t get me wrong I have always loved her but you see my love for her is that kind of love that seeks her happiness first whether it is with me or not(You can choose to agree with me or not to I don’t care). All I know is that I was happy that she got married and that was when the relationship between us changed. I became a friend from afar and this worked for us until a month and a half ago. I had stepped out for lunch a few blocks away from my office. As I was about to enter the eatery, I saw a friend’s car at the car park and so I walked towards it and knocked on the windows. He rolled down and shouted my name as he opened the door. We shook hands and burst out into laughter as we insulted each other. Then the passenger door opened and there she was.  She screamed my name and run into my arms. Wow, she looked as beautiful as I remember her. Then after a little chit chat we parted ways.

She called me an hour later and we chatted for thirty minutes. The next day we agreed to have lunch together at a restaurant not far from her office. She was twenty minutes late but I didn’t care. All that mattered was her sitting across the table.  We both ordered, held hands and took turns stroking each other’s hand as we waited for our food. Then she told me how much she was not happy in her marriage and was contemplating a divorce. For about thirty minutes she went on and on about how she wished things were different. About how she felt lonely and lost in the marriage and how each of her trails in the marriage was suffocating her. My heart was broken. I thought she was happy in the marriage. Wow! She was going through all these? We barely touched our food as we were so engrossed in our conversation. Every now and then I would catch people stealing glances at us but we just didn’t care. It got to a point I felt a tear swell under my eye and had to look away so she wouldn’t see it fall. I didn’t want her to think I felt sorry for her. Truth is, silently in my heart I told myself I would do everything possible to make her happy again. Then as though we were set up we both chorused exclamatorily about how we much we missed us. After lunch we decided to walk to her office instead of pick a cab. We held hands as we walked from the restaurant to her office and occasionally giggled because one of us had said something silly. It was fun. I could feel her light up and soar in happiness like a Kongming lantern and my heart felt peaceful. We have been constantly communicating and having regular lunch dates that feel so blissful.

This Friday we both closed from work very early and met up. We first went to her favorite ice cream joint in Osu, We got some ice cream and snacks and we went to my place. We kicked off  our shoes sat on the floor as we watched our favorite movie ‘Brown Sugar’ and ate the ice cream and snacks. Around 7pm we decided that we were going to cook rather than go for dinner at a restaurant. So she changed into one of my t-shirts and we went grocery shopping in the neighborhood. We then decided to walk home than pick a cab home.  We kissed on the street, and people walking by whistled. We were like teenagers who had just fallen in love.  We danced around each other in the kitchen as we cooked dinner and in the course downed a bottle of wine. Dinner was another level of fun. I’m sure my neighbors were wondering whether we were high on something because we giggled throughout dinner. She was happy and so was I. After clearing the dinner table and washing the utensils I left her in the living room to take a shower. Some few minutes later she joined me in the shower and my friends what happened during and after the shower cannot be contained on all the pages of the world.

Dear friends, for the past three years that I have been married to my wife. I had never seen her wake up with the sun rising from her lips. Not even on our honeymoon. Ooooh sorry I forgot to tell you guys earlier that the married woman I’m in love with is my WIFE. Truth is, Love is not just a feeling but also a choice. So I have made the choice to love her and make her happy because she’s made so many sacrifices for me and this marriage. I have also made the choice of seeking her opinion on how to make her happy because a happy wife is a blessing to her husband. I have decide to court my wife as I did before our marriage. I mean treat her like a girlfriend and a wife, take her on dates, buy her gifts, give her attention and be silly with her.  I just one lucky guy to be in love with my best friend. I think there needs to be a verse in the Bible or Koran that states that any man who makes his wife happy will go to heaven.

 
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Posted by on April 2, 2017 in Fiction

 

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Our Truth?

Our Truth?

The fragile stray dog is at it again
Licking its lover’s arse and howls to announce it
Now, we are supposed to follow suit
Lies are prostituted as virgin truths
which we foolishly enter a bidding war for
Blind to tongues sharper than bamboo blades slicing reputations
Our hard work is rendered valueless like gecko shit
Every now and then, they set fire to corn husks beneath our pot
And tell us it will cook our food
Then they hum commands at us because
Their mouths are stuffed with praise songs hearts know nothing of
Before our naked eyes, our progress is held by the neck and choked
And told to spit out patriotic songs rather than phlegm
Sadly we have become strangers in our own home
A position we are to gladly accept

 
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Posted by on March 23, 2017 in Poems

 

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Thoughts

Thoughts
Tonight I thought of you
Of how it would feel like
To lay together in the open and let the stars gaze at us
With your head on my chest
Listening to my heart’s soprano
As I run my hand through your hair
Between us, a loud silence that speaks
The language of our untamed love
Tonight I thought of you
Of whether the moon has relayed the message
Of how I miss you
Like a slut misses her period
My mind is pregnant with thoughts of you
This labor of love can be tough at times
So please come deliver me
Come, set my heart at ease
Tomorrow I will think about you
About your beaming smile that the sun carbon copied
I will wonder if you are also thinking about me
If your heart dances and smiles because of me
And whether just like me you drink from our memories’ fountain
I will think of all the things I want to tell you and why
Then conclude that, the best way to do so
Is to love you
s.k.g
 
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Posted by on January 2, 2017 in Poems

 

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Dear Crush

Dear Crush
Dear Crush,
The first time I saw you, time froze and the sun disappeared
Your breathless charm touched me as your radiance spun me
Round and round in a dance of celestial intoxication
You have a body that can make an atheist believe in God
just long enough to say ‘ God damn it! What a beauty!’
and my life which was in black and white images found colour
All of a sudden twinkle twinkle was no longer little
So my heart convulsed and rammed against my breastbone
Exposing itself to you like the buttocks of the morning sun
Stretching itself out of its sheets of clouds
You stole my heart, tucked it in your breast pocket
and there was nothing I could do about it
For I felt it would be safer with you than me
Even my shadow found me unworthy to follow
And so it run after you. Some shadow I have
I told myself you were not from this world
Hell no! How can you?
then I found we had lot in common
You breathe in oxygen just like me
Now! That’s a 4G connection
Dear Crush,
The first time you mentioned my name
I could swear you had converted this sinner into a saint
I felt like that song without punchlines that was a chart topper
Just before I could think of a response, you deflated my joy’s potbelly
When you said ‘Move out of the way’
How could I move when you got me rooted to my spot
Damn! You knew my name
How did it taste on your tongue?
Was it a brew of fresh cinnamon tea from virgin dew with fresh goat milk ?
or was it spicy like a bowl of your favourite palm soup holding fufu hostage?
Did it awaken all your senses?
I imagined your first name dancing next to my last name
so I hang on to the music of your every laughter my ears steals from the wind
As it reverberates through the chambers of my heart
It is rhythm to my soul and a groove to sway to
You’ve got style and good vibes
You are my overtime dance to a slow tune
Call me silly
Throw in irresponsible
Or maybe even mad
Truth is, I just adore you
And If this is blind love, I don’t want to see the light
Dear Crush,
We are now friends
I do not know how it happened but we are
your effect with me is beautiful as a baby’s giggle
Your eyes are the only Christmas lights I love to see all year long
I swear I have kissed you a thousand times in my dreams
You have dragged me to places only angels dream of
I carry your sweet smell with me whenever we hug
Until we meet again and I refill from another hug
I think about you
Like lips think about smiling
Like the sun thinks of shining
Like wind thinks of blowing
Like the stigma thinks of pollen grains
Like pollen grains think of tiny birds
Like birds think of bees
Like bees think of their hives
And like hives think of Honey
Oooh Honey, I think about you once every day
And you never leave my mind
©Selikem T.K Geni 2016
 
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Posted by on June 21, 2016 in Poems

 

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War Song

War Song

Chant your war songs

Beat your war drums

Call out your ‘enemies’

Accuse them of the atrocities you committed

When you spilled the blood of your infant dreams

And let it be the precipitate of the war you wage

 

Chant your war songs

Beat your war drums

Draw your weapons and charge

Chase the shadows of your infant dreams that haunt you

Convince yourself that getting blown like debris in the wind

Is so right because everyone seems to follow the wind’s suit

Then, swear to yourself that being different is a luxury you cannot afford

 

Chant your war songs

Beat your war drums

Display your trophy of self-contempt under the disguise of smiles

Call yourself the phantom slayer and have songs composed for this

Brag about how you were a badass on the battlefield

Grasp for air and pause for dramatic effects as you tell the stories

But behind the scenes curse the fright your own shadow gives you.

 

Chant a new song

Change the rhythm of your drum beat

You have life, there is hope

Reunite with your inner self and chase after the elephants of your dreams

Hunt them with patience, for it is a mother of a beautiful child

Let your imaginations travel far and wide

Because traveling is learning

Refuse to plant your dreams by the roadside

And do not let them eat your food and forget your name

Always remember, no one ever succeeded without making a mistake or two.

Selikem T.K Geni 2016 ©

 
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Posted by on June 13, 2016 in Poems

 

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A tot of my Soul

A tot of my Soul

Two days ago I cried for young girl who had spread her wings as she did the fire dance

For very soon she would wish she could suffocate her flames

because too many men want to stick their hands into her stove

Even before she can learn to harness the power of her flames

Yesterday, I wailed for a young boy who did not know the power of his tongue and hands

He did not believe he had to speak life to his dreams as he builds them with his hands

Rather he grasps at the straws of other people’s dreams

Because he does not recognize the keys to unlock his dreams in his hands

This morning, I saw the pride of a man dragged through the market

With his fellow men lined up at both ends of the street

poking sticks at his dying dignity with charred compassion

which was poured into a gutter so it be washed away with the debris

This afternoon, I saw a mother’s compassion turn cold and ugly

She said the child was not her’s so she could not be his fairy godmother

Not even for a second so humanity could have hope

After all everyone for himself, God for us all

This Evening, I sit and mourn for my generation

Our present stares down on us as though we have a bad youthful marriage

Sons and daughters of warrior kings and queens who mark time rather than move forward

So let me pour out a tot of my soul to you so you gulp it down

Let the syncopation of memories’ heart beat draw you closer to the truth

Let the smell of burnt memories remind us of who we were and are supposed to be

For we are a generation of greatness now struck down by the disease of self-centeredness

What happened to our communal spirit that made us sit very close enough that we touched each others’ needs?

What happened to tearing a soft part of yourself and handing it over to others

Watch as they mold it and hand it over to you better than they found it?

What happened to the good life being the smiles we placed on each others’ faces

And the joy we etched deep in souls?

So let me pour you a tot of my soul to gulp down

Let me make it two and maybe, just maybe you’ll get drank enough

for this poem to resound in the ears of your heart

©Selikem Tenu. K Geni

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on June 3, 2016 in Poems

 

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Who we are

Who we are

This is for the one whose pride now lives at the refuse dump

And is constantly receiving hair cut advice from the vultures

The one whose dignity has been trampled on so many times

its closest relationship is with the patch ground on which it lies

This is for the one who has been told many times that beauty run

in the opposite direction when they first met

and that her ugliness drives the devil to accept Christ as his Lord and personal Savior

This is for the one whose fears have become visions

tied to the cloth of reality

This is for the one who feels lost in the maze of life

And feels his progress is taking him nowhere

This is for you

This is for me

This is for us

Wait!

Stop!

Breathe in!

Breathe out!

Smile!

Relax!

Take a good look at yourself, you are here for a reason

Let self-love be the wind the glides your sail to the land of self-worth

Gather your tools and make love to the fertile soils of your dreams

Let the refuse dump be compost for the flowers of your dreams

to bloom and pour perfume forth on the pestilence of ill advice.

Let your dignity’s domineering shadow be the only thing the patch ground sees

Fuel that light in your heart and let your beauty shine

For you are beautiful than you imagine

And please remember, you are the child of the centipede

Losing a limb will never cripple you.

 
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Posted by on April 29, 2016 in Poems

 

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Hush

Hush

Dedicated to all the Women who are QUIET about their ABUSE
Hush, woman don’t you cry
I am the last person to whom you will say goodbye.
So she cocoons herself in pain she tells no one about

 

Hush Woman don’t cry.
I love you that is why I beat you when you go wrong
I did not pay so much bride price for you to make such flimsy mistakes
So she accepts pain as love and believes she deserves it all.

 

Hush Woman don’t cry
I am the Lord of this house and so my word is final
Any action that contradicts mine deserves punishment
I am your god and you must bow to me
So she worships him out of fear and calls it love

 

Hush Woman don’t cry
You deserve all these, you stupid slut
Don’t even think of leaving me
If you do, I will hunt you down like the rat you are and kill you
This is not a threat, it is an assurance.
So she locks herself up in this doorless jail, believing she is unworthy of true love

 

Do not hush woman, please cry out.
Do not let your silence be where you bury your pain
Good times are not meant to be seasonal
Unlock that shackles in your mind because you deserve every bit of happiness
Break out of that cocoon of pain and fly out spreading those beautiful wings
There is nothing to be ashamed of, so speak out
Before your hush and hidden tears, leads you to the grave

Selikem Tenu K. Geni 2016 ©

 
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Posted by on April 22, 2016 in Poems

 

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Happiness

Happiness

Your gait is a prelude to seduction
Your presence the cause of riots in my emotions
Burning down all the fragments of the walls i have built
You let out the devil in me through the door
And the angel in me sneaks in through the windows
You leave me bare like a naked flame
Burning in the pureness of the moments I confess
Things hitherto I was so oblivious to
Yes I am guilty of the things I now feel
Like a sinner seeking salvation I come to thee
You have become my ministry of Love
And I willingly let you lead me on

Your grace is a prelude to hunger
Your gentleness the cause of a thirst
That makes me long for a deep satisfaction
You make the imp in me repent to a jolly good fellow
And bring me to my knees like Muslims salaaming at sunset
With my unstable countenance protruding like their buttocks
Then i begin to speak in tongues like a priest in trance
I can swear I have seen heaven
Seen the golden streets and paced upon them
I can swear I have walked beyond cloud nine
Swear my foot prints are now etched on the clouds
And experienced real madness in sanity

All my life I have felt you but only for as long as I wanted to
I have been too busy chasing the elusive bird of unknown dreams
Yet each time you find me when all seem like a mirage
You sooth my pains even when I’m stuck in the gallows of self pity
But now the self placed specks have been taken off my eyes
So now I choose you
I choose to strive for the best
I choose to standout and make my mark
I choose to fight for what is right and do what is right
I choose to look beyond obstacles and see success
I choose to live life to it’s fullest
I choose you HAPPINESS

 
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Posted by on January 12, 2016 in Poems

 

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The Ugly Duckling

The Ugly Duckling

Aside the new building that had sprang up in place of the mud house that housed his family, the old neighborhood had not experienced any significant changes. The road was still as dusty as always and Castle du Assiam as they called back in the days still sat on top of the hill casting a menacing shadow on the other houses at the foot of the hill. The new paint work made it stand out like the clean shaven head of a big headed child. Memories began to trickle down Kuuku’s mind and all he could let out was a chuckle. As the taxi wiggled itself up the hill like a pepper worm, it’s body began to vibrate due to the bass from the music blurring out of the house. He remembered how he and his seven other siblings in their old but new dresses will line up at the gate of the Assiams during festive seasons to receive gifts of sweets, biscuits and squash from Mrs. Assiam. He had always admired that woman and it was going to be great seeing her again. He just was not sure if she was going to make him out. As kids he remembered always being the bone of contention between Sika and her friends. There were times he even got ganged up on and beaten by her elder brother Jones and his friends just for being around her. One time it got so bad that, his Mother made him promise to stay away from any of the Assiams after he got home with a torn uniform and had two missing front teeth. Up till date he still remembered what she said that night as she nursed his wounds. ‘Kuu, when the lizard and its cousin the gecko decided to have a party a butterfly must avoid attending it no matter how enticing the invite is.’ Secretly he still maintained the friendship with Sika till she left for the UK after primary six and that was eighteen years ago. When he received a friend request from her two years ago on Facebook, he was not sure whether it was actually her. Even after accepting her friend request it would take him another two months to respond to messages she had sent and that was when their friendship rekindled. Over the next year they skyped almost every day with each other, and exchanged tons of messages via whatsapp. It was as though they were trying to cover lost grounds. Gradually his emotions began to gravitate towards love and so he told her how he felt about her. When she told him she couldn’t be with him, he felt sad but grateful that they were still very good friends. Deep in his heart he wished that things would change between them and was willing to be patient for this to happen. Two days ago, he received a phone call from an unknown local number and it was Sika. She said she had just arrived in Ghana and was inviting him for a party at her father’s house that weekend.

*************************************************************************************

Truth be told Kuuku was not sure whether he was doing the right thing or not. Going to this party meant opening closets he was not ready to open yet but as fate would have it Sika had insisted that he come at all cost because she had something important to tell him. Just as he got out of the taxi a saloon car speed towards him and nearly rammed him into the gate. Then a head pops out from the driver’s side and hauls cusses at him ‘idiot do you think this is your bedroom’. As the car drove past him into the house, Kuuku realized it was Max, the guy who was madly in love with Sika when they were kids. Indeed nothing had changed about his attitude. Smiling coyly to himself Kuuku entered the house and after scanning through the crowd walked to an empty table and sat down. A waiter walked up to him and asked what he cared for. Then a sweet voice gave a response from behind him

‘A mixture of Orange juice and pineapple juice spiced with a shot of vodka will do’ replied Sika to the waiter who was taking Kuuku’s order.

Smiling, Kuuku got up from his chair and hugged her knocking a few glasses off the table. He pulls away from the hug, looks at her from head to toe, signals her to do a three sixty turn and hugs her passionately again

‘God you look so stunning girl. Now I’ve realize how much I have missed you’ he whispered into her ears

Sika was lost in her own world in his arms. He smelled really nice and looked more handsome than she had imagined. Indeed this was the right time to be in his arms. Just then the music went off cutting and blurring out of the speakers was Max’s voice.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, Can we now have a speech from the lady of the moment my lovely wife Sika. Sika where are you? We are waiting.’

Wife? Wow! Reality has a way of handing rude awakening to the dreamy ones Kuuku thought to himself. Now everything was making sense. Embarrassed by Max’s attitude, Sika wished the ground would open its mouth and swallow her. What would Kuuku think of her now? As the crowd turned towards her and started clapping, Max rushed to her side and virtually dragged her to the microphone stand. With the microphone now in her hand she looked towards where Kuuku was standing, but he was no longer there. Her heart sunk and her feet began to wobble.

‘Errrm, Ladies and Gentlemen thanks for honoring my invitation. To set the records straight Max is my ex-husband who I think has had a little too much to drink. With that out of the way, Let’s have fun. DJ let the music play.’

Sika dropped the microphone and dashed towards the gate screaming

‘Kuuku! Kuu! Kuuku! Wait! Don’t goooooo…’

Just as she got to the gate she saw a taxi speed off. Overwhelmed by what had happened she broke down in tears. Now she has lost the one true love of her life thanks to Max. Just then she felt a tap on her shoulder she turned and it was Max. She felt like tearing him into pieces and scattering it at the four corners of the earth so that no one could piece him together. There are indeed some devils in one’s life that stick like a shadow.

‘Gosh, please get out of my life. Dear Lord, let this divine representative of stupidity vanish’ she yelled tearfully.

As she walked past him, Max grabbed her arm violently and she flinched in pain, then out of nowhere appeared Kuuku.

‘Charley, let go of her, you are creating a scene’ Kuuku retorted

Sika broke free from Max’s grip and rushed into Kuuku’s arms. Her tears rolled off her beautiful cheeks and hit his chest like pellets from a gun. He could feel a mixture of contradicting emotions emanating from them and somehow felt glad that she indeed had feelings for him that she was no longer willing to hide. Then from nowhere a punch landed squarely on his face from Max. Instinctively he Kuuku also threw a punch in Max’s direction but with Sika stuck in between them, he could not hit the target the way he wanted to. He rushed to Sika’s rescue and virtually picked her from the floor. A small crowd had gathered in front of the house during the scuffle and among them was Mr. Assiam. He signaled Kuuku to bring Sika into the home. As the two love birds walked past him, he smiled. Just then Max made a move towards the house but was stopped by Mr. Assiam.

‘Max, go home! You’ve caused enough mayhem for a night.’ With this said he turned and entered his house.

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2015 in Fiction

 

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Your Beauty

Your Beauty

Tapestry of the finest kente can’t compare
I’m drawn to you like the magic of a satisfactory sigh
Like a snake I dance to the charm of you
You’re the night sky brightened by the stars, I gaze at
Each blink revealing something new and blissful
On the surface you are calm but your depth I’m yet to fathom
You behold me with a pleasing eye, I surfeit with excess of joy
Draw me in the bow of your comfort and shoot me on a journey
Far beyond the mind’s comprehension
It reflects in your smile
It calls from your voice
It resounds in your being
No amount of make-up can conceal it for it’s your true nature
I have died many times
But you raise me up each time with your beauty.
i2LAwXrM

 
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Posted by on September 22, 2015 in Poems

 

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HOPE

HOPE

Today I sat a few meters away from the door
And saw night birth day out of dawn’s amniotic fluid
Like the naked flamed buttocks of the early rising sun
Emerging from the bedsheets of clouds
Something lit up inside me
Then the beats of my heart and the rhythm of my thoughts
Caused the hands of my emotions to fondle my heart
Finally, I can feel it within my reach
My thoughts blush as it walks down their street
Anticipation drools from the mouth of my woken expectation
Hope has just found another victim and has wrapped its beautiful arms around me
images

 
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Posted by on July 28, 2015 in Poems

 

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