The Tormentor Poem by Charles Osei Kwadwo

Lies he, the valiant warrior
In the burning ruins of Troy
Slain not in a combative duel
Of which he is a master
But by arrow of spear from
The bow of a younger warrior not his par
Why lay you Achilles among the cadavers of enemies
Why for love of a woman
Flawed you yourself?
Know you not that the heart
Of the woman is a honey comb of poison
Of which a taste is as deadly
As the sting of an adder?


Among the poor now he trod,
In the high ways and the common places.
His soul fades with the passing of the day.
His shabby apparel and haggard face,
Appeals for a toss of coin.
He was once a definition of wealth
But for the lechery of the fresh,
The deceitful mincing gait and
The dazzling pirouetting of a woman,
He gave in to the cravings of the flesh
And squander till he was nought
His sweat gained wealth.
The aperture that lies in
The thighs of a woman
Many a man has fallen of it!


Why walk you like the flying bat?
You, who ere walk with raised head,
And squared chest like a knight of the Queen
Your dignity awed by many who
In the garish of the day behold you.
O! So ‘tis substantial
That you copulated and took for
A paramour, a neighbor’s wife?
Your infidelity is the burden
On your head laid.
You couldn’t keep your duo light off
That double apple which sits on her chest
And defying law took hold of it
Know you not it is unethical
That a price should be paid?
The four wall clauster is your lot
And in reproach shall you be looked upon
Until the day the earth shall
Open to receive you
For the woman is a decider of fate!



Why look you so lasciviously of the woman?
Know you not that she
Is a bane of destruction?
Ask then, Adam or Sampson.
Her mouth is an instrument for deception,
In her hands lies a clod of mud
To seal the ears and blind the eyes.
Adam with the world fell but by her
And Sampson’s strength failed him
‘Cause of her.
Restrain the eye and
Control the will,
Rout from her presence
For her heart is a honey comb of poison
Of which a pint is as deadly as
The sting of an adder
Her bosom is the den of the adder
And her fragrance, a toxic.
Don’t inebriate by her intoxicating words
And lie not in her comfortable bed of thorns
Lest the day dawns and find you desolate!


I know a man of the Clergy
Who is laid to waste only
For a taste of the triangular
Chunk of flesh with chink
Beneath the front waist of
A woman.
The man of law gave him
No occasion for rest but pressed
Till he caught him in the yawning
Jaws of the law.
For his victim was withal his daughter
And his accuser his wife.
Is the world gone insane?
Has man no shame anon


O! You woman
The man’s device for disgrace
From times past irrevocably
Why do you so?
A venomous viper with the sting
Of death is the woman
When shall you halt your
Mischievous wroughtings
And make free the tormented
Life of the man
Know you to be an imp or
The very shadow of it?
You are too much of a morsel
In the throat of the man
Time only remains for
You to be spew


For the complexion is fair,
The eyes watery and appealing,
The eyebrow a delight to behold.
The hair on the shoulders fall,
Swaying gently like the
Wind blown grass.
The congenial tone
Emanating from the mouth,
Carries with it captivating words of death.
A duo of fruity boneless muscle
From the chest protrudes,
And in a dress tightened.
A curse is it to the admirer
A flat delicate layer with a
Shallow depth in the midst
Halts at the waist,
A glimpse of which is abominable.
Beyond the waist descending
A hairy chunk of flesh with
A stick of flesh that lies
Betwixt a fissure of innards tissues;
The pride of her youth,
The weapon of her destruction.


Find us him unconscious
In a pool of blood laid.
Pierced on the neck,
Slashed at the shoulder,
Deep cut at the side
With a knife.
By gesture pointed him
On a path none was found.
With deep and forceful breath
He spoke,
But only few words.
For gored blood from
The wounds oozed,
“Three people, ’’ was all he said.
Murdered in his own room
By unknown faces.
A cold blooded homicide indeed
Which puzzled many minds.
None of which has the capability
To unravel the conundrum heaved.
Beasts die, Man dies
But some deaths are heart wretching
Of the same heart – rending coat
This a one wore.
“why would an innocent boy be
Murdered in such manner? ”
Folks began the inquisition.
To a pedigree,
It’s worth asking.
Into the past then
Delved many minds
Answer to find.
The revealing was shocking
What! ‘cause of a lady?
‘tis true as spoken
The lady is a decider of fate.


By:
Charles OseiKwadwo
A Hoover Flag Supporter