Conversations With The State And Judgment Debt

AMIDU TRAP NO AKYE BELA

In those days,

Amidu’s woes were probably,

Woyome’s cruise

then,

Think my son, think!

Think not like the crab

who lost its head

by trying to save its ears

on following friends, think

for when the tall one refuses to bend

and the short in reverse neither stretch,

then,

the kiss of an honeymoon

that should have boon as the moon

would be lost. Think!

 

Think my son, think.

Allow your involuntary actions

to react by slapping the King

when a fly settles on his cheeks.

Think! For it could be the best time

 

Think as a son of a fertile compound

of traditions and culture

by acting as the blind who throw stones

with the assurance that, he has stepped on one.

Think!!

 

Think my son, think again

so even after your death

thy soul is not haunted by the long sufferers of the living

or the inquisitive fly who resisted your tomb

Think now or never, for evil doers exist

 

Think my son, think

You could be a laughing stock

booed by the rats

with their belief that,

they’ve escaped the claws of the cat

They think not of tomorrow my son, so think

 

And now,

of this day,

if Amidu’s Waterville is probably Woyome’s Waterloo,

then,

Think again

Think my son, think

For he who laughs last

Could laugh the best

 

Copyright © 19-07-2013

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

Ghana