BEFORE IT’S LATE

A meh sunset, coo coo

From a black flight of pigeons

The day’s age is gone,

Stress overload now I’m getting amnesia

Uncle Atuiri’s back

Please Pardon my rage

For I have no pennies to acquire the sands of time

The day is over but these days hold water

Vehemently,a careful heart might win the day.\

CAMOUFLAGE

She wore a thousand faces just to hide her own

Empathy on her neck fed an empty soul

A confident woman,yet lost in her ways

I opened Pandora’s box in god of war and I’ll open it now

I need that power

You’re charming, in-depth deceptive

I love that

A sneak peek at your portraits gives me feels of a real life Medusa

Yeah that’s your curse.

6TH ‘MARCH

Slavery, the Gold Coast, I think we’ve lost a battle

A battle for freedom

Our plight hit rocks but a few find solace

The rich know God.

Obnoxious to the early sailors, they came from a far land , an eager zeal to loot our minds with their guns,sugar and salt;Christianity a front they preached the gospel in misery

Slain our sheep kuntakinte was born.

Pontificating opaquely about things we would never experience; PTSD.

My anger begins to curdle into a darkness close to grief.It really should be Kwame Nkrumah holding in here with us.

Poems by Cyprian Naabil (Ciprin)