Of Museums, Really Old Things and Weeping By the Rivers of Babylon

kuukuwa

When I touched down in London town, I just could not wait to see all the museums and old things. As a certified history buff, I knew I would enjoy the City of London thoroughly. I remember going to the national portrait gallery and gawking at photos of the Brontës for instance… as if I didn’t have the same photo saved in the photos folder on my laptop. I was in museum mode. I was in heaven.

As the days progressed, as I walked through the city, looking at old things – old buildings, old paintings, old statues, even old graves – I said to myself “Clearly these are people that understand the value of preservation of culture”. So why did they loot and steal and destroy other peoples’ culture?

I couldn’t help but remember that night in Kumasi, when I wept while reading a book by Richard Austin Freeman – Travels…

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Chale Wote Street art festival; Photo Gallery by MESH TV

This gallery contains 98 photos.

Originally posted on MESH Creative:
Chale Wote street art festival is always a great congregation of some of the best Ghanaian creatives.  Dotted all over the High Street in James Town, Accra, for the two days was a barrage of photographers, models, graphic designers, programmers, architects, comedians, actors, poets, musicians, artists, architects, urban designers, TV…

S. A. V. E. D.

Back then I thought it was just sound
Spewed by a bunch of deluded crazies
Delusional in their love for a being I couldn’t see..

They spoke of His divine nature
His love
His wisdom
His care
They called him Father God

I had a Father too
I could feel my daddy’s undying love
his unwavering devotion
his continual care
I could touch him

All I could see was a bunch of fanatics needing substance in their lives
Like bees with no queen in their hive

But then they were happy..
These fanatics in their deluded state..
They had something I didn’t have

A sense of belonging

Then it hit me!
Might I be lost?
Me, sensible and thoughtful me.

I decided to open myself up to their crazy
Sample a bit of their gravy..
And see what all the fuss was about.

I devoured the word
Revealing to me a new world
One uncursed
Truly my vision then was blurred

In this new world I belonged
Here, love took on new meaning
Sated all my yearnings
Opened me up to new beginnings

The Son (sun) began guiding my path
lifting my darkened heart
Through him I garnered faith

And became reunited with a family I never knew I had

A new me emerged
In the spirit forged
Armored and ready to take up my mantle.
To find brothers lost.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere

When I grow up
I wannabe a dictator

somwewhere in the middle of nowhere

gonna feed on fears
and be drunk on tears

I’m gonna turn all the leaves blue
Till no one remembers that greenish hue

Rape all the beautiful women
And make the sword mightier than the pen

Sing songs of sorrow on birthdays
Making sure no criminal ever pays

Tell soo many lies,
the truth dies…
and honesty cries

Somwewhere in the middle of nowhere

Where the brave are cowards
My word making them fold like cards

where sellers are scared to display their ware
Cause there is no quarantee for their welfare

Weeping and wailing a soudtrack to life
hunger and thirst the poor man’s wife

Joy and happiness remaining remnants of a gone age
making people yearn for the turn of a new page

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere

Where wrong Burns bright
and two wrongs make a right..

I will be a dictator.

A PARALLEL UNIVERSE Promote – Yourself

poetreecreations.wordpress.com

Where there is gloom, there is elsewhere, joy;

Where hate dwells, in another place, love inspires;

Where barbs fly, nearby a child plays with a toy;

Where gunshots wound,  around the world a shooting star fires.

 

When screams ring out, babies giggle;

When corruption pervades, honor exists;

When injustices erode our foundation, good deeds triple;

When innocents lose hope, faith persists.

 

If our environment is threatened, activists fight harder.

If our coffers are empty, our communities provide.

If our American Dream diminishes, voices scream louder.

If our eyes are closed to suffering, in another universe they’re open wide.

 

 

Wendy Shreve

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The Crane

The Crane.

The Crane

I look up I look down
forever bulking on my metal muscles
hauling for all I’m worth
the man in me stoically tapping away
obsessively compulsively, but never in disorder
oblivious to my thoughts

I look up I look down
searching through the blue
for all the fish in the world
juicy brow-less bony fish
waiting to swim down my scrawny neck
oblivious to my hunger

I look up I look down
the man doesn’t know
the fish can’t tell
a thought stuck in my thoughts
oblivious to them all

wondering if I’m bird or machine
please tell me

the world has me at a loss..

When Lust Calls

My dreamy cloudy girl

How I Loved to watch you twirl

Carefree as a bird

Using my love as a gird

Always flicking thy pretty wrist

Woman, please put me on your list

Trying in vain to tie you down

Doing your best to make me frown

Lured me in with promises of coupling

Tease!! Forever doing nothing but kissing

Wicked witch of heartbreak town

A potion of indifference to give my heart a rest

Touch me not with thy calloused hand

My love is beyond thy hateful wand

Trying to blind me with your sensuous sensations

Thought to drown me in wild passions

Sadistic little monster you are

Out of my way, girl beware

Before my fury tears you apart

A deceived man, with a fractured heart

Headed to red-light square

Where your kind is rare

And the women wild like hares.

It’s a Bedlam Life

Taking turns

In this trouble hive

Dying a little with each heartbreak

Standing straighter with each triumph

We live to die, we die to live

That’s the way of the world

Each defeat a gut wrenching wound

Every setback a pursuing hell hound

Yearning to keep you to the ground

Forever dashing dreams on which you fly

No helper in sight, in vain you cry

With strength from within, free you pry

Rejection, always lurking in the shadows

Waiting to release a torrent of sorrows

Grief that never abates, but forever grows

Success a coy mistress

Not to be wooed, without encountering distress

Smiling at young fools who aim to impress

Happiness a fickle lass

Picky and never friendly to the crass

Catering only to the brass

To the wuss nothing but horror

Each moment filled with terror

Only ghosts, to be seen in life’s mirror

In this unbridled reign of madness

Death, making order of this sticky ugliness

Crazy, when seeing the reaper is gladness

Each death bringing you closer to living

Forever dying

Just so you ca keep vying

No place for the faint-hearted

Each victory leaving you depleted

Joy can be found only where it’s created

That’s the way of the world

Forever keeping a hold

Each Joy paid for tenfold

An Embarrassing Date With A Finer Fish.

also an architectural student

Getaway Island

You know that saying there is a lot of fine fish in the sea? Ah well.

Pardon the interruptions (brackets). That other voice in my head tends to get in the way.

Ok so I’d worked throughout the night on my drawings (not surprising, for an architecture student. Yeah so no big deal ) and deep into the morning (10 o’clock I think) so as to be ready for the end of semester portfolio exams. And damn (!) I was famished (as is always the case)! I was pretty sure them gastric and bicarbonate secretions were playing a “Game Of Thrones” on “The Wall”s of my tummy. All I needed was to gorge myself with food ASAP and then ‘pass out’ (lol. I remember when I used to ‘pass out’ the morning after the nights, before presentation, with bloodshot eyes behind the drawing board. I wouldn’t even hear my roomies…

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