POEMS, NEWS, PUN AND FUN

Alhamdullilah  It's such a wonder how it always happen. My alarm and the cock crow in such a sudden. Such an occurrence is so monumental That it can't be regarded accidental. A reminder of the natural troll On our trust in artificial intelligence. And the alliance that coexist Between a non living Clock, And a heavenly gifted Cock. Even when your alarm clock is down, The Cock crow is there to signal a new dawn, The voice that awakens the sun. God's magnificence is personified, And His omniscience is magnified.. It may sound Kokrokooo, or nkokuokoo depending on the drum in one's ears.  All to give praise to God for a brand new day. In an Akan dialect, it's interpreted as Okrokoko. "Almighty"

Anytime I'm called for duty... Wherever deployment takes me, Pervert from my path, any mutiny... But give me the strength to be; The rescuer, the protector and the fire fighter. Whenever I'm gone for stand by... Lord, grant me a listening watch.  All incursions, hazards and risks, May I with my crew identify... Where unavoidable, enable us to mitigate.. Be it in the terminal, tarmac or boarding gate.. Should there ever be an emergency, Wherever fire may rage.. Should there be any shout, No matter the skin or age.. Help me put the fire out, And my neighbor, help me save. And if by your will... Any blood may spill... Leading to any fatality, Protect my wife and kids, And preserve the rest of my crew.

They breastfed us, yes but we bit them.  With their lips as an emblem, They liberated our nostrils, Of phlegms meandering like contrails. A career woman she's now called, Aid to man when his pocket stalled. Beautifully keeps the house before going to work, Yet at home we fail to praise her worth.  So shall the real woman wake, Early from bed and for her family, bake.  And we still ask, "How arduous are house chores? A mere sweeping and cleaning course. Therefore a mother's grin: Is mostly misconstrued. Seldom depicting true bliss, Other times, it's a rare solace, In how much age her child accrued.  Then she flashes back in time, As if she never lost a dime, While pruning her children, Even though 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 biblical duty? That's the mother's calling. Of which not every woman can hear, Some try due to the love they fall in, But mos...

The kitchen was theirs in the days of old, They were the housewives, so I'm told. So shall the real woman wake, Early from bed and for her family bake, The bread of life. Such was the routine of a good wife. What at all is house chores? A mere sweeping and cleaning course, Yet we're expected to praise them aloud, And pamper them like a manner from the cloud. If this mind of societal stereotype, Keep flowing freely like a leaking pipe, In an era of this economic hype. Shall our women be healthy alive, Even if indeed they do survive? A career woman she's now called, Aid to man when his pocket stalled, Beautifully dressed to work, Yet at home we fail to praise her worth. This is poetry for May day, A caution for men to make hay. As she helps financially at home, Assist her to tidy up the dome. Now she's green and stands tall, But green leaves too do fall.  After all this grass has dried up, What else will dare to spring up?

The English Premiere League has best players, pitches and coaches.  Some are talented like Arteta,  Others are relentless like Guardiola. A few want to escape relegation but they don't know how. In most cases, they call Eddie Howe.  In the process of finding answers; Here are Ten questions, Answered by Ten Hag: Is the English Premiere League Hot? "The league burns a lot, like Burnley" Which team has the best football field? "The only field for goals this season is Sheffield"  Do you think FFP rule is of everyone's interest? "Of course not, see NorthernHam Forest" Would you then suggest anything?  "This question should be for Everton" Can you qualify Man United for Europe since the matches left are just six? "We're already there on the table, lose or win, we are sixth"

Something mostly divine, Sometimes, it's ours to define. Unlike the plant called Vine, Destiny seldom has pine. And it is our duty to prune and refine. From the feet till we see the spine. It may be a good omen, To which we shout Amen. It might have a fault to mend or dirt to filter, Which might make us think that God did falter. But we can write our own destiny. Yes, we always do. Remember that road you used to the mill, The particular person you talked to, Has it not been your own will? When you wanted to learn, Even when in prayer you did yearn, You took that training seriously, And you passed out successfully, That was your own destiny. That was your pen on paper. When you write, no one can alter. I am the secretary of the God you don't know. Now wait while I print yours out to show. Written down by you as white as snow.

So they forced us. No, they persuaded us. Or they educated us? They rather Christened us. Whatever they did to us, Has been as good as, The wisdom their book has. Are they truly the words of God? It mostly feels like yes, Other times a bit more less. Like prophecies in poetic verse, Alphabetically scripted in wisdom, Not known where they come from. I'll read it nevertheless, And you should not do otherwise. At least it will keep you from any mess, And the meditations shall make thee wise. If the revelations make you cheer less, Read the chapters that make you fearless. Just Read The BIBLE

I come as an usher with solutions, To all your new year resolutions. A lot of prayers on my head, And I must do it all as the first born. Why don't you love me? Is it my fault at all, That I was born first and tall? Was it not your own doing? So why the early booing? They say I am too long, While teasing me with a song. Workers hate to say my name. But students love me all the same. I had to fast till the fifth week, And even while I prayed, You ate and made merry, With the son of virgin Mary. So please love me this year. Just make room for me. If you plan for me, You will love my vibe. Anytime you hear of December, I am January, her elder brother. I come to wipe the past away, To give you A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

December, we can't regret; a sanctuary. But first let's not forget.  The one whom it begot; January. From drought through frost to flood: Such a flying time we've had. Although it hasn't been a boilerplate, I have so much with you to contemplate, Since we all began the year at the same place. Was yesterday not January? That skin drying and lips bursting mammoth. The longest yard of a measured cloth, Hated by salary workers for a month? Then came one so feeble. Short, stout and stable. February came with calm, And soon, we all had bread in palm. He came waiting for Easter, His holy moly sister. The fasting months soon approached: Marching to April as it May. Remember our sacrificial lamb; Jesus, our non-sink sand, The solid ground on whom we stand. Here is the mouth-watering, The mixed-cropping, The earth-soaking. June's journey with Julie to July, On an August occasion we can't deny. That led us to the quadruplet "BER" factory, Where the bittersweet ch...

What do we guard with honor? Why are we awake till the last hour, Just to afford a cup of flour? Your gold you fail to mine, Yet ours, you take as thine. In suit you apparel thy pride, Expecting us on the other side, To cheer you or just hide. With poverty our dads abide, And we hold guns in order to stride. Protecting our only inherited gift, The golden pod thrown in the rift, By the deeds of a parliament, Who gave us pepper instead of mint. We shall defend what the middleman didn't, Yes, we vow to protect it, Our cherished cocoa beans.

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 labourers are few. But do we have enough Pew, To accommodate the souls anew? On which solid rock do you stand, If you won't build in 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 evi...

One nose, two trills. Breathe more, smell less One mouth, two ears. Listen more, speak less. Further beyond the sea, As far as the eyes can see. Two also are the ears to hear. So are the palms that cheer, When the lonely mouth does fear. So that we can keep watch in the day, Listen more to whatever they say, Close those palms when we have time to pray, And speak less but rather make hay, As often as we are in this flesh. Man and woman created He them, To compliment every now and then, Each other's whims and carprises, As economic goods soar in prices. That is the natural ratio. Two-is-to-one: But take no undue advantage. Even if women outnumber men in this age, Are you the messiah to minimize damage?

This is not a shy fish, But a natural law: Not meant for the selfish, Merely an act of flaw, Revealed by the Japanese Koi Fish. What then profits a man, If he gains weight and loses his soul? Why would one rather plan, To hide our dreams in a scroll? The Koi Fish would grow in a bowl, If the keeper confined it there. A few centimeters in length, And it feeds just a handful. Provide it with a clean flowing river, Give it her free habitat, And it grows longer than a meter. So we plead with that simile: Be not joyous over our quiescence, Open us up, let's feel the bliss in our smile. We are the youth, give us our inheritance!

You shouldn't be asking The essence of tasking People to spread the good news Whiles your status has many views Why not do it again Even though it was a disdain  On that attempt you found splendid Until friends made you regret you did So anytime I post beautiful pics  And you ask me why, why I don't preach But only post nice lady picks It's because I lack great topics Keep me on my toes as I wish Speak to my conscience even in British  Those things that we fear to say And you might be helping me save a soul. Because anyone who tries Would be theming great poems With spiritual ties To be echoed in heavenly realms.

Sometimes we don’t mean it, Even when in your face we spit We expect you to take it as fun Just because you’re our fan But you misconstrued it as pun. And so here we go, With morale and morals Coming to host the show Brown in view, but hearts whitened as snow Soldiers anew, but mere mortals. We are not brutes, Neither do we lick boots. Give us the peace we command And keep the freedom you demand Fear not, forget your worries For our guns are filled with toffees.

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...