Just listen to the heartbeat

of disaster,

lips are trembling,

the future becomes one big

monster that swalloms them

in death

Debt is the hammer

that continues to hit their

head anytime they try

to flee for freedom,

in the extinction of money

Just see this social mathematics,

as to why the crime rate

increases,

with hunger dancing in the stomach,

burning unpleasantly,

eyes are reddening,

compassion is stolen by the drought

and their desperate hands

reach for the gun,

because death will be the price

to pay, if they sit

on the thorny seat of starvation

This is why we have robbers,

well, one of the reasons,

just look at crime,

and you know that somehow,

the hands of help have been hidden

from them,

but they linger happily

in the absence of salvation,

once the stomach indoctrinates

them with compelled evil

It's like a social nicotine

injected to them by the syringe

of hard times,

please, help poor and needy,

you never know,

because the stomach

has the strongest, persuasive voice,

when it comes to the court

of ones body.

                      By Kakraba Afful

Read poverty like a newspaper,

and you'll hear many stories,

crime is the tattered denim

they can find, if they're not compassion

and they lust of money

swallows them with greed

Read  "penny drought daily"

they're choking,

so sad and dry,

that they don't even have tears

to weep,

they sob but eyes are cracked

with want,

so anything that shines,

even deception is a magnet

that attracks their hands

Like I said, read "penny drought daily"

a covenant of emptiness,

is breeding hopelessness

because life continues to whip

them with no mercy,

the kind ones, I wishing

if a good soul with the light of the lord

would find them,

but the greedy ones, poverty

has even increased their

thirst for a quaint freedom,

freedom that may come by murder

or extrication that may come from stealing

In the spiral of poverty, the good ones

strongly resist the temptation of evil,

because it is eminent,

read the "penny drought daily"

you'll see it in the eyes

of the idle beings on the street,

then you'll know

what poverty tastes like.

                                         By Kakraba Afful

There is a strange craving for death,

but poverty is a slow accident,

you see, men,

shadows wrestling with lean alsatians

for a bone

The garbage is the next restaurant

for them,

and their mind wallowing in despair

in the mud of defeat,

they being has been made worthless,

just like the trash that they

feed on,

and with a bleak persistence,

hands that dive into worthlessness

to obtain something;

if there's no garbage, they'll

chew stones, that's for sure

Their hearts are wounded by restlessness

and how the nights can be

so unfriendly when they kill

their inner warmth with the flying cold

sent by the god of misfortune,

not even the scarf can

protect them

from this thermo-anarchy

The candle of mayhem

is lit and their soul darkens,

poverty, the wailing curse

that turns men to shadows

and women to emptiness

and children to worthlessness,

in the powerful silence

of grave worry.

                              By Kakraba Afful

De-graft Afful Jr. is not complete yet,

no not complete at all;

I used to be a sharp christian,

not that I am better than anyone else,

no, I'm just like any other person

but, I was my born

with a gift to see beyond normal

In the boarding school,

when I stopped being a church goer

and I became a believer,

I used to see visions,

visions of spirits, demons,

things of the spiritual world,

I prayed hard,

fasted for three days,

did all those things,

for spiritual power

When I walked I could

feel a fire protecting me,

I used to a see angels,

smiling when I did right,

weeping when I did wrong,

but one day,

laziness, and the poison of complacency,

got to me,

my spiritual progress

was terminated by my relaxation

Then the visions faded,

all my instincts on the supernormal,

I felt physical,

but the visions finally died,

because I stopped reading the bible,

and play too much with my life,

and more importantly,

I stop praying,

then my light dimmed,

and all the power was gone

Even know that I've found myself,

I need to get that part of me,

because everyday in my mind,

I can hear God ask this question;

"What happened to you?"

and obviously Satan had nothing to do with it.

                                                                           By Kakraba Afful