POEMS, NEWS, PUN AND FUN

The connection between three or two, Of which you have experienced too Is not just the feeling we have Or the thing we call love. It’s more than one time friendship That existed between you and your classmate, Or the bond that held you checkmate With that lady you did impregnate. Something greater than that long ship, The umbilical chord from mum to son Which knit them in Companionship Equally communing like the moon and sun. This is an ideal relationship. The reason you and I are still intact Such that in times of no hope and hands on hip, You raise your head and dial my contact.  So check up and don’t let them give up, When will you ever sit up? Remind yourself of the people you once met, Upon whom the wrath of poverty has beget. Don’t block my number! Just because I now need you than ever. For even if I don’t fit in your  circle, I’m important to a lot of people, Either as an auntie or uncle.

The life of a politician, The vice of a servant, Greed of a Ghanaian, All in a currency we all want. We both want to travel, But our destination is parallel. They believe in tourism, leisure and exploitation. We like fame, dreams and imagination. If for something they willed, They enslaved us to wield. Although that sincere force, Isn't no more of course. We both want to prosper anyway, But our paths are not the same. As their leaders make hay, Ours strive on the blame game. We think it's a brain drain, But it's actually a mutual gain. They attract us with package travels, We return home with good morsels.  We eagerly want to make it, Embassies are helping if you permit, But only if your answers are wiser, That an interview grants you a visa. So in case you see, Just in case! My money in a room or suitcase, Grab it all, not just handfuls. For good medication is taken in spoonfuls. Because, the future we do conjure, That better Ghana we hope for, Is hidden here in rooms, Whe...

Yesterday we were in church, So the word also came, In the same accord, As this saying of fame. " Many are called but few are chosen" I hope you did record. A few years ago she met  This guy called Bennett  Who cast a vast feminine net And left to his comfortable nest To snap out a short rest  Bennett was the man of vibes Who had just bought  The newest Pontiac Vibe So her eyes were caught She was surely the next A naive girl yet hard to get Had just become a good harvest For the King of the forest When he returned from his rest His net had caught no fish But meat albeit darkish And he knew this was his best So he hurriedly freed this meat Washed and dressed her neat For he did not just cast his net, He was looking for a good pet.

A mother's grin: Is mostly misconstrued Seldomly her smile Depicts true bliss  Of how much age her child accrued.  Then she flashes back in time As if she never lost a dime While pruning her child's pine Even when it hurt her spine. The sacrifices she made Stooping so low as their maid Just to get them to fill their belly And yet, we think it's her duty. What sort of duty Will combine neat and dirty And still serve when sixty With no wage or salary? That's the mother's calling. Of which not every woman hears Some try due the love they fall in, But most of them don't bear, Except this woman sitting here.

Ideas they say are like noses, For how noble or not it sounds. So is the eye that dozes. It blinks in freezing rounds. Charm, they say is deceptive, But beauty has a single perspective. Simply put, we all like nice things. Bcos love is not blind as they claim. So approach me as I stand aside, Although you may feel shy. Maybe not for a bad why, But for snares of a flashback. What at all do you want? And why think that you can't? Just give this path a try. It might be the street you'll 4ever ply. Ply to this sane garden, Where fruits are not forbidden. The narrow road, Where the story of Adam is told.

Events that operate for or against, Forces that obliterate our gains, As if opportunity but bring us pains. Those aren't what we call luck, But the teasers we wish to lack. So we pose supine but appear prone, In the eyes of those yet unknown. We're sure our beauty won't waste, So our hair will entrench our waist, Till the hour we alpha our fate. Don't misinterpret our smile, Or compromise our amity awhile. For we gaze as the winds whirl, With white eyes and hands on hips, As heirs with blossoming lips. Talking to God in a spiritual chat, Till we celebrate in an entrechat, For answers to the desires of our heart, Which are the things we love.

Act 2:17, "And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams" See how beautiful you all perch, Solely to prove that we're in church. The old speak in tongues, And youth preach with gongs. A sacrosanct routine like this,  And we think we're in the spirit. So we win many souls today, Tomorrow we don't know where they stay. We then give the biblical excuse, Quoting that the laborers are few. But do we have enough Pew, To accommodate the souls anew? On which solid rock do you stand, Against the nemesis of the sinking sand? So they come in and flush us out, Because we haven't guarded our own house. Remember the days of old, Where in worship, prophesy unfold? Was there not Eli, when God chose to speak to Samuel? This is the highest level of maturity, an epitome of spiritual purity, and an evidenc...

The sperm that fertilized this egg. The womb that warmed it up, The woman who birthed him, And trained me to move my leg. The man who educated thee, By paying even my feeding fee. The teachers who caned thy butt, And those who replenished thy lack. The God who made it all possible. That took me out of trouble, And today I can face tomorrow. To whom I run to beg and borrow. Friends for the bad and good, Siblings who by me stood, Family and neighborhood, Who saw me through boyhood. If not for you my crash, The guy who stole my girlfriend, And the lady who bounced me. But for you my love, I am matured today.

💌💌👋👼 Have you ever wished to have been born with a silver spoon? It's going to be fine soon. Just as night runs with the moon. So shall we see a brighter noon. How long shall we wait to smile? As long as we can go the next mile. And even if they cast the dice, We hope on God who never dies. Thus why anytime you pass by, Never forget to say hi. We do so not because we aren't shy, But to lift the lonely person's spirit high.

What a friend we have in Jesus, That lasts longer than they tell us. We grew up with that notion, And it spread throughout the nation. So I was in my room last night, And I felt a shadow on sight. It wasn't the holy spirit, But my nephew Bright. He attempted stepping aside, When I pulled him to my side. He said, Uncle let me wait outside, For you are busy inside. Come with me instead, I said I'm just talking to my Jesus. Since you just woke from bed, Come let's do it together instead. So we joined hands talking to Jesus, And he has since not left our side. What a friend you too can have in Jesus, Closer than I can describe.

Ooo man, ye have no time. Even what you have, isn't yours. Yes, you can set an alarm Then in time, it chimes. Yet your time will never come. Even if it does, It's just for a week. Once a day at least, Till another sun via the east. That's the fact of life. It surely shall be But certainly not yours, God's time always stands. Monitor a clock as you wish. And even as you read this, Tweak the watch on your wrist, To make it work as and when. Thy hard work shall pay So long as you make hay But until God gives you His, Your time will never come.

Beautiful bullets of slogans Fired with prose of puns But with lips not guns Full of new year plans, For my all time Love. Thus how we do it mostly Some loud, others softly But the real wishes Come subtly like hisses, To the ears of the blessed Whose ways are clearly marked Yes, almost perfect By the unknown architect.  A woman of choice Known for her decency  Clothed with affluence  With a clean heart poised To blend beauty and duty. I can't wish but to pray That this beauty without fawn Never sees any frown Even after the dawn On your happiest birthday 

This is a story of the odyssey  Who had tongues without mute Remotely controlled by a minute Iota of a heresey  Information although is good Must be taken out of data Either from an old book Or one's own adventure So whenever we saw him come Each of us expected some Kind of education of a sort And we did have what we sought But come what may  In case your mind no dey After every lengthy speech A contract was there to breach A lie to be told alas  With a bit of truth perhaps    So anytime you enjoy listening  Remember, man no dey chop stories! 

You nearly missed this  Opportunity to keep him  And remain with the one  Who gave you your first sex Couldn't you have been A goat or a fig tree? Or just another oxen But you are lucky men So why not repent now Book a new guesthouse Keep it clean from the louse  With sweet perfumes of wow And don't waste the night Be awake as a knight Your lover will soon be on site With beauty and might  Weak not, fret not, tire not in prayer  For the groom must be a player  Who studies the art of romance From the book of Romans.

So that each and every year Since I met my dear I never ever regret The babe I did get  Yes we met in jail Where nothing else could prevail It was in cold April Yet, for each other we did travail  Bonded in chains Together in pains But we fought  Just as we're taught To remain always tough Swallowing the bitter pills  And miming the cough  Accompanied by the chills Today we rejoice  In the love we forged In the mindset we thought In the scars we begot  And the patience we bought  So as a day passes by Don't forget to aim high In wet, cold and dry It's possible so do try Break out from Jail Even if it means killing a soldier For many innocent souls Are dead for their lover.

With your back against the wall, Or the belly on the ball, That which shall enter your mouth, Won't ever go through the anus. So is the blow, That's meant for your cheeks. It shall never be subbed for a kiss, Albeit on the elbow. Such is the file of life: If soil can be remade, Into Lois, a pretty handmaid, Who then can claim doyen? Except the artist in heaven. So keep seeking, that job you fancy, Keep calling, that girl called Nancy. Appear decent to the God above. Be charming to that man you love. It doesn't matter your fumes, Over the numerous attempts. You can call it contretemps, But wildflowers give out perfumes. Once or twice, All days may not bring good tidings. Also will the cries have endings. So anytime you are out of options, Remember this poem you're reading. 

Thou art a color So I heard. Yeah, a man with honor They all declared. Are thou not a mere rumor Overly revered? Aren't thou a color Named after a deed? An act of kindness, A lady of sweet dour.  Whether maimed or mimed? Why haven't I met thee? Are they all scam? The chocolate chunk, The red velvet cake, And the love formed, In hearts that testified. Which color art thou oo dear? Just in case you know me Hide not from me your face At least for once. Waste no more this chance As my yearn for you fade, Be my valentine on this date.

So this is Christmas? A holy occasion, though not a must. Yet esteemed as much. One's whole life story, Is limited to just a week of merry. Amongst the lot, it was Mary, With a week more to Marry. A virgin's wildest moments of fame. A little feminine made of clay. Whose story was dubbed insane. After losing her pride to the unseen. Wouldn't you rather say to Jesus?  A godly spermicide. By a spirit-filled orgasm, Opened up her womb to lay inside. That which was preserved aside. Were you to be her spouse, Joseph, who never saw her blouse, Yet had to live in doubt, Over her unknown sex mate, Until that dream he couldn't interpret. The story used the word "espoused" Others say she was betrothed. Modern day dating or courtship. Yet nakedness was unexposed. Kept by their bond of friendship. And here we are hallucinating. Eating, dancing and singing.  So today I ask in rhetoric? Is she able to close her legs? Is he willing to wait for her?

As the days go by, And this year is a few days shy, With December ready to die, May we not just say goodbye, To those lonely passersby, Whose pockets are drained dry. They need us to hold their hands. Some just need your arms. Help one, feed many, call any. Help the orphans with money. And if you open your window, Throw out some food to that widow. Don't just wish them, rather give them a MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

A mirror doesn't just reflect It reveals what's in front of it We call it an image But I tell you, it's real  And so are words They can't touch you Yet, you will see yourself as you read further. Here comes the Ghanaian Christian defined in these episodes below: Although they pray consciously only when things are going wrong, they pray very unconsciously before they eat their daily meals. They pray more at night than day but they like day time church more than evening church services.  They love those who love them and hate their enemies. They want to be like Christ but cannot live 33 years without having sex. They forgive but will not fail to remind you again and again. They visit the shrine to inquire of an uncured illness or mysterious death but preach against idol worship. They call their children by the good names in the holy Bible. One out of seven Christians is a cheating partner, willing to change but not ready to stop making new friends. One out of eight Christ...

So it's true, that between 17 and 27 years is our prime period.  Meaning, all the mistakes or the good choices we make in life are in this non volatile steroid.  Your career paths, and everything else in your future depends on this short era. The beautiful ladies and the young men chase each other. Here, the meek will find their way and the restless tend to find theirs anyway. Your good choice will reward you forever and a wrong tick won't stop hunting.  Ancestors tried it and can confirm without doubting. That although change is possible, Avoiding a mistake is plausible. 

The worst volition,  Is simply by not choosing  Even when you might be looking At your own shadow losing. The best violation Is by not a crime But fighting against your emotion Forcibly winning to the last dime T'is the joy of cooking That kept the chef baking  Not the heat on low Nor the smoke like snow So anytime after today In case you face any competition Be it free in life Or forcefully by strife  Take it as though an expedition Add joy to your diction And take not your heart to perdition For whatever is for you Will always come out of the blue

Several blocks away, Now lives my darling Mike. I crossed the streets, Strolled to visit Patrick, And fell for his tricks, So I lost my guardian angel. Come-on boy! Wilt thou eat the same food all day, Even though she's no prodigy? So I followed my allies, Just to see where power lies, It was all but the same act of coy. If He's a God to whom you kneel, Why does he not answer thee? They led me to the bush of knots, Where I called their god, But it's eyes did blink not. Is it your property? Even the government does it. Take, loot and be abreast. I tried, it worked, I quenched my thirst. But I now struggle to have a good rest. Our innocent self,  And the self-guilt. Those things in the dark, Which held our shine aback, Now revealed to us at last, That all is vanity and mere lust.

A Shebang teacher of this era, Fulfilling aspirations of a teller, And yet a parodying book seller, With the charisma of a self lover. Beautifully blessed beyond betrayal, Expensively exposing beyond reach, Her beautifully breasted chest, Not intended to put us to the test. With the posing effect of smiley face, She may leave a trace, Of both charm and harm, And a feel of love perusal  She's not just killing us, It's the tease she has, That though she we desire, We appear not in her list of require. This cardiac strain on her admirals, Who she had quarantined, Not just as friends-in-need, But brothers indeed, Arrested and killed me too.

And so in those days, Many people knew not Jesus' ways, Of speaking poetically in parables. Judas also misconstrued the principles. On their first tour in Africa, Jesus asked each of the twelve, I mean the disciples including Peter. "Take a stone each and follow me"  James grabbed two rocks, While Judas picked a pebble. Everyone kept his in stock, Judas hid it in his socks. Southwards from Antioch, They camped in Sudan. When Jesus began turning everyone's stone into bread, Judas then had his hands on his head. Learning his first lesson in vain, Judas tied four big stones this time to his gain, For Jesus had commanded again, And they sojourned to Lome. "We must take rest for we've miles to go" John pleaded. "Yes, we're hungry" Judas added. "Let's sit and rest on our stones" said Jesus. Thus Judas took this offense to book, Blaming Jesus for the wrong steps he took. Thus how Jesus betrayed Judas.

Whatever we live for Be it pun or euphemism Perhaps a mere metaphor No matter one's fetishism  Nothing is worth dying for The hay we make even on holiday  And the hive we craft per se  Will definitely pay off someday  Maybe not immediately But most definitely So when the season comes Faithful enough to arouse few smiles Just as our sun dawns  To light our path over miles  That we too can walk on tiles We pose again to gaze  Not at our land full of maize Nor the properties we've made But to render praise  For that free trade; Of breath without buying oxygen And bread albeit, from heaven.

Football we know is played not with our balls but rather with the feet. However only those with bigger balls are deemed to be game fit. This is how INAKI WILLIAMS ARTHUER has been discribed as he made a U turn to come back home.  After series and months of speculation, the 28 years old Spanish but Ghana born forward has to give back to society.  The brothers have decided to contribute to their motherland by accepting to help Ghana win the 2022 FIFA WORLD CUP.

Indeed this world has a lot, More beauty and pleasure.  If only we had the slot, To keep all the treasure, We'll freeze at the same spot, Just as the wife of Lot. Beautiful are the pictures we paint, Not because we are more saint, But our regard to humanity, Has testified to our true beauty, That we too can be perfect wives. Is there anyone of good report, With character to support, Is there a woman of comport, With a sense of purpose? Distance really frays vision So hey, draw nigher Come, come over For there's a good person you might be missing.

So many centuries in written adage, Were these words of magic poured out in mode arcade. As if a curse just to last a decade, To the serpent and man of stone age, For eating this fruit we differently interpret. HUSBAND, love thy wife. Bring to her no more strife. WIFE, submit to your husband. For ye are a treasure in his hand. CHILDREN, obey your parents in the Lord. Be glad that they spare not the rod. STUDENT, neglect not thy God and dust not thy books. Do it now or later make it in the brooks. MAN, work hard to make and protect thy family and property. Better start before you are thirty. WOMAN, make babies and care for thy home. Aside you, is there a safer dome, In whom our hunger and lust may hope?

In moments like this  We dare to forget we are His Though wholly owned Totally have we kowtowed  To this worldly hiss Of the so called money bliss In times as these Cults having fanfare At the expense of the fair As they intend to please Peers and family With whims of plenty We pledge however To God that we may differ  To vane desires are we immune Yet prone to gracious fortune Even as we hunger and thirst We shall not faint nor fret And can't give up either Yes, in this our era.

Eye catching when seen  Mouth watering may it seem We reveal our meekness On sight of this weakness With good clay on site From that side up high Molded indeed with a sigh And they use it as a sign Just to make us aware That for us they do wear That which unravel the rear To make us want to share Yes, we swear to have it Even if the sweat doesn't merit So far us the brain takes over Bro, you might turn cassanova  But wait, I have a solution We're no bait, just take caution All apples are sweet No matter colour or how neat So anytime you see her Grab one who's forever dear Clean and freeze to your taste In case you yearn for another in haste Remember, the one at home is chaste.

So many questions asked, By philosophies of Socrates, With no answerer tasked, To these bewildered apostates. Is He really God, That killable by sword? Did He rise from the dead-darkness, Wasn't He just a shadow? Is it our culture, Or that of mental slavery? Are we deceived, Or it's the holy spirit we received? Where is Okomfo Anokye? The great commander of armies, Conjuring from above, stool of gold? Why leave this life of ancestral old? But my childish reply: The fear of God, begineth wisdom. Ye shall do more than me if ye believe. Are they not indeed wise, Those creators called whites? If ye believe in their technology, Why doubt their Christianity? And today Paul reiterates: Better serve Him and let him be false, Than to falsify Him and regret he is true. HAPPY EASTER TO THE WORLD

Basically before Belinda baked bread Most of us would have finished our breakfast Even Kiki who used to eat late" Said her elder sister Kate, My childhood school mate. This continued till she lost all her customers. Thus a career lost At avoidable cost Procrastination they say steals time So if you can do tomorrow's task now Just like the ant in the hill Wait not for the rains Whilst you know thou can't swim.

There weren't any butterflies At least when I glanced at her eyes And neither did I see flowery images As hyperbolized in books and on stages T'was mere nuzzling Within a darker atmosphere Created by lovely shyness Slowly lowering the curtains of the eyelashes. To that point of smelling another's breathe, A romantic moment of cuddle,  With mouthwatering promises of love.

After which of these, Must we thirst? As man may please, Chose he first, That which seems best. A million ants would climb onto a single cube of sugar, Not because it's bigger than salt, But the creator's own will of that sort. No beauty at first could cheer me up. Everything seemed to be made up; Skin hidden in contrast stocks, Hips modified with lifters, Not forgetting lip paintings by my sisters. That was when I didn't Know Nancy: It was Val's day, And you either dressed nicely, Or be rejected nastily. Then appeared this silky dark and lovely, But also majestically modelling fellow, Shirt on top, skirt below and slips to follow. Her rear was as bulky as pillow. A lady I since admired at church. A sight to behold indeed, Such virtue in a woman I need, But I was waiting on the Lord. Love may be coloured red, as life is labeled green. But what we must do with the crayons at hand, Is not to paint but to draw a face. Broad smiley face with or without dimples. With welcomi...

As Doyen as he seemed,  He sunk into the deep of his heart And aroused what couldn't exist  Common Ice, piercing the metallic. T'is was on that special beast A kind of untouchable brute When that captain let go everything No, it rather slipped from his hands. The wonder of the world The titan of desire and pleasure She was called The TITANIC. For it was as hard as titanium. "Even God can't sink this ship" Said the captain of the night Who revered not the Lord's might But thought the engineer was alright Words they say aren't just powerful They are sometimes dreadful Causing pain even in the bossom of God, To Let frozen water cut a ship like sword. If you ever watched the movie, And listened to the latter, These words you would remember That truly God never sunk it, The captain rather sang  And then, the ship gently sunk.

Never say I dawg you,  As you said in our chat. I only decided to use hue, In my future colour chart. T'is you who dodge me Thinking lonely I'll be By snubbing my mindset For a permanent search  Of a lifetime opposite sex Now do not judge me! "I couldn't convince you"? That I know. But if you really do, Why not let it show? You weren't ready You weren't sure Were we too many to study? Now how much did you score? Baby I'm really sorry  That your friend is in this story But you should have read her poetry That love knows no boundary #BABY I'M SORRY#

Standing at Bay With no need to make hay For the sun has already set As the clouds and moon had bet This is real life unveiled Tango of the night revealed So as to be thy own saviour Heed to my unqualified rumor Why stare at a pulpit? Whilst you are the lectern  Is it because you're deemed unfit, Or the anointing isn't yet your turn? Oh brother, is it a mistake? That you have a stake To be rich and worthy That thou has churned worldly? This sister is blessed with dimples! And curves so simple To cause a tremble  In pillars of a temple But because your gift Can cause a tectonic drift Has become a disadvantage That at this young age You cannot be called a sage So where are all the teachings The faith and commitment preachings Are we now likened To those backslidden We cannot wait any longer Call a sister and brother Let's all get back to "Grace" Confess our deeds of disgrace As the runway is tared for arrival Let's ask for a revival  A Spiritual survival One ple...

You know what? It's not all about churching, Neither is it about doctrine. Many were the preachings, And enough holy teachings. We hope for the best  Yet influenced by the "west" Just because we over rely, On the holy sign, A biblical sigh, Of a future Utopia, With a bliss of euphoria. Is it always about soul winning? What of those souls starving, And fragile hearts bleeding,  Can we not rather do "soul feeding"? Why are ye all marveled? Expecting a speech on revival? And here I stand rather rebbutal, Trying to sound a bit canal. Do you await an anointing? Yeah, are you really expecting, Olive oil from the beard of Aaron? That season of milk is gone. Now is the time to be a true son. Spark up, Sparkle and proclaim If not, let your lifestyle reclaim Leave no lost sheep in disdain Be thou revived and unleashed To arise, shine and make an impact.

A thing that I want Something I rater need Everything that I see Is all I already have It was time to be greedy And now it is to be content   Thank God I found you Frivolous, yet well able No matter what they do You make life so simple Maybe it’s not yet my season Because my woes aren’t ceasing   Do you really think it’s time, To be satisfied with what achieved? Isn’t it better to do more, Than chewing the tuber raw? See yesterday dying Tomorrow welcomes you by crying   Nothing shall ever be free Even the fig tree Begs for water but for a fee It’s no time to be greedy Doesn’t mean don’t be ready But you too deserve a lifestyle It’s either now or later

This is an episode, Of women in sorrow. If you can today decode, Wait not for tomorrow. Even though I’m now tamed, What I do isn’t my will. They had my belly all drained, And I’m trying to refill.   Confess! and I confessed. Only repeat what we said, “I AM A WITCH” Else they amputate me. A statement which, I have failed to retweet.   But does it make any sense? If one cannot afford Samsung Why not go for Hisense? Even if I were a weak witch Wouldn’t I at night switch Into the bat that sung?   Keeping me in a WITCH CAMP, With my fate all clamped, Doesn’t hurt me at all. Yet those free and criticizing, Are the wizards after all. Were we to be witches, wouldn’t we flee at night?

You don’t need to get me too Bcos you know, I got you For skills are far advanced There’s this school I chanced Teaching me to better my kunfu So anytime you make trouble You shouldn’t be running, running, running Just hit my console And I’ll be running to you.   I am now a soldier Make I carry you on my shoulder Because you’re stubborn I wonder If we’ll ever be together I heard you’re staying with your mother But tell her she’ll see you no longer The love I planted in your under Is making you run to me.   Last week you said to ponder Over how weak you now are Allow me to spoil your mind To make friends of no kind As you think of hugging me Anytime you freeze by the weather When the thunder sounds louder Ask your pillow if I’ll ever, Be right here running to you.

Whereas they may be called fallopian Meals prepared by the ovarian Though with no account on YouTube They house that famous tube Striving and striking through A life far from what’s true Is there anyone responsible Why the mosquito nets Who sleeps here yet to be met And as you drive along circle You forget this is your preamble The child you ignored to nurse Although she boasts her father is a nurse Won’t mom be forced To eat dust and feed me flour Did dad lie saying mom was his flower? I’m a now a nine year old But consider young Joe How long, Should mom long For an end of this street battle Seeking alms not forthcoming If only that rapist did never exist We live, sleep and beg at airport Not because we are well off   But to see what life has installed Anytime the car parks to pick mom away I see tears in her smiles each day If not for us, she wouldn’t have said yes.

Just a church is placed far from a mosque Keep your bench away from the blue kiosk It is this advise Meant to keep me from vice That makes me love your mommy And I say again, With all disdain I hate your mummy- who dumped you Lovers of their own selves As early as in their age twelves Grow up into husband helpers Child care takers And family binders Yet, your mother Dumped you rather But I blame your father Who treated her like dummy Immediately we found you This baby shall live Was my wife’s faith Ooh my lovely Judith. And this is her diary, her last word “As I donate my kidney Saving a new world Tell her I’m sorry Six years more can I live To her my life I give Train her to be bold and Godly To help finish my story”

This was in a dream Real music in my ear Which ended my nightmare Early morning FM radio reggae My first ever experience I mean   Aalaaaaajh Mu Akbar Without strings nor cymbal That elongated rhythm With somewhat recital theme Always by a male soldier Calling worshippers together Echoed from that tall building Coned at top with moon adorning   Hallelujah….. !!! I woke up this evening Tired, weary and yawning Disturbed by the drumming The sound of harps and cymbal By voices that praised their God Times I expected to see no light They called it an “All night”     Albeit I would wish To be woken up by The Holy spirit passing by With just a tap, soft voice or a hiss.