Some had daggers in the

tunics of their mentality,

ready to strike with

verbal cannons,

after their long hibernation

of patience

My soul burning

in the oven of my mind,

convicted with a hot stillness,

arrested by uneasiness

I was tethered to a fearful silence,

knowing that sin

was the graffiti all over my action

In deep silence,

surfaced by the sorrow of this felony,

I lay still,

under the siege of innocence,

because righteousness sought

to shoot me down

with bullets of reflection

I was a castle of guilt,

soon to be demolished

by flying cannon balls from

every side, my instinct felt

it could only befriend

the still air that encircled me,

with the grim poignance

of injustice.

                            By Kakraba Afful

Seeing that many things

had vanished by the ill magic

of serious tact,

my ability to fathom was made

extinct, and I could not

trace this dismal birth

of a corrosive blueprint

that made my things disappear

Well three years ago,

in the boarding house this

was the case,

shadows as well as people

were friends to the dormitory,

but as shadows passed

and friends passed,

facilities were no more found,

and my restlessness was homeless,

barricaded by discomfort

I would search the building,

but many times

the grim magic had taken over,

and those magnificent sorcerers

had gotten away again

I know in one sentence,

I should tell you that

thieves stole my things in boarding school,

but my question

is how did they do it?

I you surely it

was only the dexterity

of the hand?

                            By Kakraba Afful

I was sitting in the cafe,

when I felt a mighty war

walking down the hall,

yet unseen;

His gruesome words

ignited a fire in the other guy,

who was proclaimed

immortal due to his

deadly, flammable character

and yet this slim, weakling,

who legs were only a protuberance

of disturbance,

continue to fire with chilli bullets,

and burning its vehement victims

eyes with the ferociousness of rage,

was enough to leave him

with two blacked eyes

yet, unrelenting in his self-detonating

mission, the clock ticked

as this angry guys blood

turned to magma

and with a volcanic urge

and an eruptive swagger of bravery

a heavy punch

Till the guy fell to the floor,

I guess for him,

the sun started bouncing on the earth,

because reality had forgotten him

due to the trance he

heavily received

from the short fight,

which he apparently lost!

                                       By Kakraba Afful

I know I have written about

this many times

but this is just a sinister crisis;

In the class room, you could

see this man happily hugging

the death of normality,

the treachery of numbers he revealed,

with such comfort,

not knowing what this was doing to me

Math!

my! is that word bitter or what?

this teacher wanted

me to understand hieroglyphics

the wrong way,

why didn't he tell me to go

register for an egyptian class?

I would have done so gladly

And I as he distributed

those white bombshells, test papers,

my! was I bound to lose the war,

my confidence was battered,

I could only hide in a trench

of my private revision,

which rescued me partially

from this mental bully,

which choked my brain

to an eloquent dumbness

with which I know speak

The titanic of numbers

had made me a human wreck

and I sunk deep

in the sea of misunderstanding!

Help!

                          By Kakraba Afful