Kojoni

Why do I still feel so strongly attached to this imaginary lady? My sensual affiliation seems so non-existent when she avails herself. This mystery maiden doesn’t complain about my messed up hair, neither does she keep silent for days without calling me. She makes her presence so obvious when I’m alone and utterly morose by the stinking stillness of my life. I face this menace ever so often when my queen decides to temporarily forfeit her sovereignty and take her throne for granted. Indignation is my daily bread, especially when I sulk so much at the inability to check on her supposed king. Although many damsels have traversed my path, my devotion remains solely imposed on my affection towards her. It almost feels like I have fallen face down, bursting my eye-balls out with no chance of seeing any other forever. She lethargically steps up the ladder of maturity, feeling very comfortable where she currently resides : under the tutelage of dear daddy. Taking both weekly wages and instr

Ever been in that awkward situation where you just wanted to vaporize in an instant? When trying to act nice to a stranger becomes an impossible mountain to climb, or opening up to that lovely lady seems deeper than the deepest mining shafts at the Obuasi Gold mines? Well, I have always wanted those situations to arise, when I had built up enough gusto to face them. But unfortunately, they seem to be trickling in at a pace faster than I could possibly imagine. Some seem to think the liquor, whether hard or soft, would carry those moments aloft. But I beg to differ with that plastered plot. Taking shots of alcohol have helped many a man to lay away shreds of fear and frequent fits of low self-esteem whenever they deem it crucial. Chemically belonging to the group of compounds known as ethyl alcohols or ethanol, these tonics have taken centre-stage in our daily lives. Though the original name denoted any fine powder Alchemists of medieval Europe applied to essences, obtained through dis

Plethora of reasons leave me bewildered as to why I awake so tired and totally worn out. The many billions of mitochondria could have not just disappeared. After all, nothing naughty transpired the night before bed. Even if something did happen, I’m sure it would have provided a source of refreshment rather than a pile driver through my back. Maybe my body took advantage of itself and decided to work overtime in keeping my sugar levels intact: based on last night’s chocolate delight. With Lupe Fiasco blasting through my cochlea, my body’s cognitive skills appear to experience a sudden surge in the most uncompromising fashion, probably in response to my outcry of weakness: kind of showing me who’s boss right? But believe me, my body is boss alright, especially when it comes to waking after being unaware of your surroundings for hours on end and expelling fluids from within without my permission .  Just recently, I stumbled over some very useful information on mechanisms of the sl

I continuously fail to phantom how fate blessed me with such a wonderful opportunity: a chance to collide with someone as sweet as you. It is true; I can’t afford to lie and simply can’t hide why: the reason for loving you. Countless times, your kindness has embarrassed me and amazed my friends: telling me what looks good on me and what food was harmful to my health. My mother would most certainly be the only competitor, but you surely would be a worthy challenger. Some years back, a trusted someone told me not to settle down with you, because apparently I hadn’t met half the number of ladies I would eventually come in contact with through my entire lifetime. Well, I guess this friend of mine was unaware of the fact that this period of existence would be shared with an angel, regardless of the Pamela Anderson’s or Jessica Alba’s I’d eventually become acquainted with. You certainly don’t resemble that pretty pair, but baby, you are my brightest sun without which my galaxy would cease

It is pretty easy to assume that the world revolves around you, especially when you decide to reside in the comfortable confines of your bed. Rising up and almost immediately going back to your slothful self, wishing everything else in existence would freeze whilst you took a snooze. I can confidently give this coherent description because this scenario was once my daily routine. The transition from dusk to morning would seize suddenly, school children would join the sleeping bandwagon and forget about receiving those hot strokes, or maybe the tipper trucks on the nation’s highways would be rendered immobile by the far-stretching limbs of time. But the rules of engagement to this illusion still remain a mystery to that former personality I tolerated. Maybe the underlying principles were in close proximity to those of the electrical switch, where my retiring and awakening would pause and play the unfolding events happening within and without my territorial scope. Apart from the rays o

Poem One Introduction: I'd just read about the Queen of Sheba, the wife of King Solomon. The poem was centered around the story on how she was astonished at the lavishness of his estate when she visited him. Wanting to impress the king, she loaded her camels with   spices, gold and jewels but ironically, the king's greatness swept her of her feet. I merged this with the Trojan horse virus, specifically for effect. With this information registered, I played around with the story. Trojan Sheba Infect my heart thou voracious virus, Scarcely sighted by my many blind lovers, Jealous and full of real incubus impetus, Only conspicuous without its carnal covers. Without you every flaw remains relentless, Drenching my will in obvious oblivion, Till the end I await thee my empress, With diamonds and rubies lavished in perfect pavilion. Poem Two Introduction: On the 28th June 2010, we were greeted with the sad news of 50 miners trapped and possibly dead in a mining pit in Akyempem, so

Sitting at the balcony of my second floor room makes life look so still: firmly frozen in time and space. The weather is callously cold, unless of course I’ve decided to reduce my body temperature with the unknown potential of my brain: mind over matter. But on second thought, I could actually make an attempt, If I was been scorched on the sand dunes of the Kalahari Desert that is. However, the motivation to write tonight is not to bore you with the temperature changes currently taking centre stage due to global warming or seasonal changes, but to describe what a sight a silent night can conjure. Though this cold breeze finds it appropriate to distract my work, I’m not perturbed whatsoever. I mean the scenery is simply magnificent. I can count the many street lights looking like matchsticks set alight and buried in the ground. The only problem here is that these illuminated rods are of different colours, certainly not consistent with that of a brightly burning matchstick, more so beca

My mind has remained blank for the past six odd hours, mainly due to the lonely period of respite, void of any form of useful brain activity. The first point of call for most early risers will usually be their sinks, clearing any debris accumulated in their buccal cavities. But for me, the white house on which most human beings ‘roost’ to lay brown eggs which seldom hatch (leaving room for the not so privileged folk), is my preferred haven for starting the day. Resting on this ancient plumbing fixture is one of life’s many pleasures easily forgotten about due to the nasty nature of the end result – faecal matter. There is no denying the fact that this world would most definitely be drenched in stench if we were not privileged to have been blessed with this invention. A lot of noise is often made about the Wright and Warner brothers for revolutionizing the transportation and television (or cartoon) industries. Not forgetting the well-respected World Wide Web (www), its development bein

Don’t be moved by this caption, at least give adequate room for minor deviations. Whatever you might have thought on seeing the title should be quickly gotten rid of. This is no expose on the hidden cities of Memphis, Egypt, nor is it an in-depth digging into the buried relics beneath the surface of the Aztecs in Mexico. With your minds fully formatted, the upload is duly commissioned.  Cities usually define sub-regional past migrations, present challenges and future aspirations. This has absolutely nothing to do with the hidden city of Memphis (formerly the capital of Egypt) losing its most-honourable title to Cairo, nor does it bear any semblance of events leading to the Spanish invasion of Tenochtitlan, now present day Mexico City. The most hidden cities of all are those which remain unseen by all and sundry, including our very own selves. Keeping inward those forts and fortresses which define our immeasurable strengths, is one topic hardly spoken of. "Who are you?",

There are about a dozen red buses around me but quite a number of observers keep sitting and waiting, whatever they are waiting for remains unknown to me. Taking this bus after my debut last two weeks seems very different. The visual mixture is awesome, slim beautiful young “chicks”, menopause-stricken old ladies, forty-year old bums sitting around lurking for loaded luggage to arrive, the list is endless. Facing the many possibilities scares the shit out of me, I mean my laptop is comfortably resting on my laps obviously, but the middle-aged man sitting next to me is visibly startled. How many times do you find a young man seriously typing on a bus with nothing as expensive as a laptop without being scared? No matter the number of robbers waiting to lay siege on this supposed prize asset, it’s a decision I’ve decided to make this cold morning. I must admit there’s a heavy distraction sitting on the throne of my mind; it’s the memory of yesterday’s goodbye kisses my girlfriend planted

Daddy had just rushed back outside to place the cherry on the cake, that is to say, relieve his hand of severe punishment and hand over power to a more competent wooden rod. A million rivers could overflow their banks by the amount of tears Kevin had shed, his shirt now drenched in them. “If you play football ten times, I’ll whip you a ten times. Why are you so stubborn, eh? Do you want to break your legs?” daddy shouted. These tantrums were accompanied by the occasional stroke of the rod that was sparsely spared. After all, he wasn’t a spoilt child by any stretch of a mile; he just went with the flow of his innermost instincts and disregarded the eminent consequences of his actions. Brilliant at school and but with an incredible affinity for football, he engraved his name in stone whenever it came to disobeying his parents, simply for the love of the game. He continued to face this beat-less music from his lifetime coach, receiving each whip with much gusto comparable to that of A