delalorm fiaka

(19th JUNE 1988 / ACCRA, GHANA)


We heave and leave our chests to drop
Perceive a sieve to be a net
Conceal with zeal the real and yet
Bellow and yell at traps self-set
From Mole to Zanzibar the hippos go crazy
Diagnosed with petulant chronic hypocrisy
Going ballistic over their mirrored errs
Frantically tugging at non-existent hairs
Forgery in overt pairs
Conducive for deceit, even promoted by friars
Ice cream cones? , I beg your pardon, decorated dog bones.
Disgruntled drones suckling at the propolis
Shameful “shashewowos” shredding into shambles the virtuous metropolis
Pampanaaa! I gotcha! Nothing hidden, nothing to find
Pretence is superficial
An embodiment of the artificial
Serenade a fillet, do you make it a sautéed fish?
Parade your true inner self, don’t proceed over a perceived wish
The gavel will surely rap
And Efo =Kosi’s feet will with more momentum tap
Obrafuor’s dagger will be readily sharp
You could be a demon and dodge the time warp
But alas! You will still always be you.

Submitted: Saturday, April 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, October 04, 2013
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