The lights are off in my room. I lay in my bed with my duvet covering just my legs from the waist down. I am naked. Waist up, I have on my over sized dashiki. With my head on my arm, I type this text. The breeze in my room is just right. I…
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Read MoreSet in Accra, Ghana – Zig Zag captures the story of a young artiste, Senior, caught in a web. He faces tough decisions where he must walk the road less taken or choose the obvious. His career as a saxophonist is on the line pending his final decision. Or is the decision really his to…
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Despair was very present. Mom just lay there – helpless. “Should we call in our resident priest sir?” said the nurse with what looked like pity in her eyes. “Who does this nurse think she is? Why does she allow pity creep through her soul, when she is just a mere witness to life’s unfair…
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Rolling off the tongue, A metamorphosed shtick of pleasure. In and out In and out – it moves with rigorous friction and pressure. A bitter sweet taste of everlasting serenity, Only drowned by the spittle seeping from the lip-side. One might groan and moan from the intense pleasure; Yet is steady as not to release…
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I come from a place where good morning means nothing A place where respect is earned Not by Face value But by the lining in my pocket. I come from a place where Dabidabi 3b3y3 yie is the national anthem Sang for some 61 years and yet nothing seems to fathom All I hear is 3nd3 di3…
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What happens at dawn? Do you not wonder? When sleep shifts from 5th to 3rd. Ignore the 4th For forth comes the lazy 2nd. Till you land on the 1st – gear of sleep The 1st person to wake. Mama Akos. The sound and strength of her short broom against the hard concrete floor. Like…
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A long time ago, in a land where Time was King and everyone respected an appreciated Time, lived a man called Kofi. Kofi hated his King, Time, and wished he was Ruler of the Kingdom. One day, Kofi decided to take over Time’s throne and make himself ruler of the land. So Kofi, together with…
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Nonchalant became sorrow personified. My father’s eyes bore its presence. Screams churned into instructions. “Get out of this house! And take those little brats with you.” My mother bellowed. “I never want to see your faces again! Demons!” My sister couldn’t contain herself any longer. She broke out of my grip…
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Plastic girls in their plastic world Making men fume with their plastic chord Tis this fakery that binds them all Strangling and struggling In their plastic core Once upon a time, tis cliché When all but her innocence remained She found Picasso’s brush as it lay This – the beginning of a fuss and a…
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