Deep beneath the conscience of the sky

a paradise is withering,

and a demystifying cadavery

bores into its life,

There is a dismal spell

that cackles, and claws

that dwindle with foretold defeat,

the defeat of life

The soil cries,

as it kisses blood involuntarily

and the clouds moan,

it's raining arrows,

the blight of war looms!

and mottles the leaves of peace

You would marvel at the

wizardry of the shrapnels

and how their breathe of fire,

sells tickets to hell,

by the devil's franchise

war, the mighty artist,

the exact painting of disaster

and the reward

for misunderstanding,

in the museum of differences,

trust is beheaded

and militance continues to

paint the picture of corpses

and the battery of innocence

babies crying,

fathers dying

and mothers crying

war is the mosaic effect

that discolours their skin

into death,

till they rot and merge

with the soil,

and become the

tattered clay of misery

as the wailing clock ticks.

                                                By Kakraba Afful

In life, you can witness

how the minds of many

are raped by falsehood,

and their innocence,

like a corrupted virginity

that now bleeds,

is deeply soaked in tears

By many, who

speak the dialect of a simoom

there is a blindness

common to all,

that by words,

evident truths be maimed

and declared waste,

and hidden till it

rots by time

Well, with the skills

of the tongue, an uncanny

jungle is created

and now the truth becomes

a lion or tiger

waiting to ambush those

who have stolen

the honey of revelation

in this forest of life.

                                             By Kakraba Afful

The truth, a walking mirror

yet unseen and invisible,

ugly and bitter in its bosom,

creeps in the lair of ignorance,

by the oligarchy of lies

Knowing very well

it flies like a raging sword

when told,

lingers in the conscience

of men, drowned in exile,

and made extinct

by the perpetual choice

of fallacy

Well, like I said,

as I ugly as it is

does not shine,

and continues to

darken with the leprosy of revelation

and rejected and dejected

it becomes a merciless

arrow when unleashed,

but for now it is chained

by vehement negligence,

awaiting the time it shall

be release by the transparence

of destiny itself.

                                By Kakraba Afful

the youth have heard of intelligence

but the old know wisdom;

just listen to my story

For long I held arrows in my

heart, so I continued to bleed

never comprehended

the freedom that many had

Grudge had disintegrated my soul

to splinters and I continued

to limp in the prudence of life

I smote when I was harmed,

struck when perturbed,

well one day,

I had step on the toes of a tiger,

but...

instead of being visited

by a vengeful hunger,

I was denied the death of shame,

and patted with understanding,

friendliness gave me a handshake

From then on,

it is I,

who took the arrows from my heart,

and stop bleeding

and had the freedom that many had,

I refuse to clench my fist

anymore to punch in the dark,

the day the tiger

smiled at me,

and let me go,

that was the time

I understood forgiveness

He didn't win with a fight,

or intelligence,

just wisdom...

forgiveness.

                          By Kakraba Afful