Kojoni

Insulating myself from the hell that wants to erode my skin, that's what I'm doing. These yellow flames were my friends before. We walked the brimstone streets once and many times that we lost count. The livid horde of grim reapers came through the alleys we played on. Their long staffs, with those razor-sharp blades, sent hot chills down places that crippled us. Nevertheless, we still had a calmness that made us impervious to the fear that they exuded. I'm not sure why that was the case. Maybe its because we were young and unaware. Things are different now. They blazed hotter as the day continued, whilst I remained the same; hoping to become the sun and far hotter than has ever been, I maxed out. It's almost midnight. Things are different now. Why?  I've forgotten how it feels to be fierce; what a sharp contrast of sub-zero temperatures looked like. My amnesia has become my undoing.

It's like my soul searching came up short. I didn't factor in the eventual this. Being a grad student is never easy. Thing is, I didn't know it had anti-perks. I only saw what opportunities lied ahead using my pragmatic side. I conveniently forgot about my more emotive half and thought I'd "robocop" my way through. But the long distance love I avowed to avoid, caught up with me. Exposing me and all of my weaknesses. The time difference, ooooh time difference. I hate it with a passion. She's going to bed, I'm sitting in class. She wakes up expecting to hear my voice, I'm living my alternate reality with a snore. It's always a tussle without pulling a muscle. The first didn't really pap. Being strangers before and turning lovers overnight was the curse. But this is different. We've been friends for a decade and one. And now the harsh reality knocks. Yesternight was hard. Her tears brushed my canvas. She's stressed, she can

No one man should have all this power. Especially when he's got a fluffy fluff on his head. Coincidence created both his hair and that pussy cat with the same color. Isn't it just beautiful? Just fantastic, just wonderful...( arms stretched sideways ) Thought he warned you when he said he'll win big. Bigger than the bigot you thought he was or might be. Would you be proud of everything you'd say, if your every movement was tracked by a camera or the Machine as seen in "Person of Interest"? Please, it's taking too long for you to disembark from your twelve-feet pony. Did you think that was your forever-abode? I apologize. We all need our garments bleached, even if some of us are predisposed to flaunting the stains more than others. And oh..Billary, how long it took you to get this fly? All day... All these years for a loss?  Oh. Sorry. Maybe next time, you'll visit Wisconsin and still prepare for the debate. Congrats Doughnut...

Dear Lord, I'm grateful for my biological family, my church family, and friends who became so. You've been great and merciful to us Lord. There are many things you have done for us. We're eternally thankful Yeshua. Hallowed be your Name! I'm grateful for life and for your redemption in this life. Father, I thank you for your plans and thoughts towards me and my future. Plans for my good only to bring me to an expected end. Countless times I have not deserved your favor, but you showed it anyway. I'm grateful for the blood and your Spirit, as they bear witness. Medaase obrempong Nyame. Best Regards, Kojo, Words Medaase - Thank you (Twi - ghanaian language of the Akan tribe) Obrempong - Almighty (Twi) Nyame - God(Twi)

It has become common knowledge, at least to me, that the man with whom I share a surname (at least partially), was declined the chance to ascend to the presidency back in the day. The underlining story, however, could easily pass for an episode of Leverage. For those who don't know what I'm talking about, Leverage was a popular series based on modern-day Robin Hoods, that carved out very thought-out and elaborate schemes to dupe the affluent, having erred based on their own moral judgement. Except in this case, it was a one-man show with swag. Shabray paaa... What shocked me was the Trust Fund story and the bruhaha surrounding the whole thing. First off, I'm sure its something of an open secret that African dictatorships and democratic ones alike, have for ages stacked their loot in Swiss banks. From the Mobutus to the Maha.......errmm okay, that one dier I kent. Let's continue because you get my drift. In chess, one rule is true; the fact th

How far has the corrosion gone? Maybe you and your silver coins needed some galvanization. Isn't it obvious you came up short? Not the chocolate-drop kind. Just that the accolades you wanted could easily pass for a shelter, since you stayed under. Your castles came crushing down being unfounded, when you closed your eyes all day. Maybe you misread your destiny, when it said your life would be full of dreams. Next time, you should ask the author for an abstract, just so you're apt from the start. Did you see and relay on the many diamonds that you mined in those dreams? Maybe they stayed there and became your imaginations central reserve. You better build many banks and link them with lines that would live for centuries. The horses you rode have gone with the wind that created them. Maybe next time when you saddle up, hold tight to that rein and make sure you're not catching formless forms. Thank you, that you woke up from the shut-eye that made you rich.

You say its hard being you? Try his shoes for a day. Your blisters would shape-shift your life. Imagine being a black "chelovek", with an African accent. Attempt the feat of smiling in every photo. You'll need a grayscale filter man. It's hard for this jigga The boy who hardly smiles but wants to. You know why? His near-golden congregation leaves him muted. Especially when everyone else's still dencia. Maybe he should have listened to mummy when she warned his naughty bottom. He refused, he clogged his ears with Colgate tops. Now he talks under tone, "say again?" You stooped closer to hear, oh!

I've noticed how difficult it is to speak the right words in this generation. Vulgarity seems to be the new normal, or at least, it has been accepted for decades now. It's easy to blame current musical trends and actors we so dearly admire. Like the many critical people I know, it's a personal principle of mine to speak right. That doesn't just mean alacrity; it means oratorical dignity too. Saying the f-word, or the s-word might be the current cool. But I'm sorry, let me be forever uncool and dignified in my speech. That would not only present me before kings and queens, it will force them to accord me respect. After all, Melania Trump copied Michelle Obama's speech, and not Azealia Banks' over-top rhetoric (no offense). Plus, that's what Daddy taught me. Speak right..

So here I am, staring at the gate I could easily scale over.  Oh yeah. I've gathered a wealth of experience with my own at home. It's brown, a tad higher than this one but, very shaky. You could blame it on my calculated jumps over it at odd hours. Mostly because, I didn't want anyone hearing the echoes from the gate, as I snuck out to play soccer and other things. Hehe.  "Hey! Have you been knocking for a long time? Not really. The sun is just really on fleek today'', i replied as she pulled me by my striped shirt. I bought it a week before. It was a huge day. I had to dress for memories. She wasn't looking too bad herself. The pink darted skirt she had on was a charm. I guess she was looking forward to this just as I was. So after the brief hug, I was beginning to feel nervous. The night before we spoke about what teenagers dream about, and how that we both hadn't had one yet. We sat in the brown leather couch and she asked, &

This is just a critic of the above. It has probably come from people wanting the best. But sometimes I've heard it in a somewhat selfish breath. It's almost like anything other than what we want in specific details is a serious case of "settling". Okay...okay. Go on! Okay.. Bernoulli pick without replacement Being sure its exactly what you want -that's the caveat. A risky sum. Cure your blind heart its eyes seem redundant. For when your one appears his colors might be contrary to your canvas. Because though there are parts that can't be seen or touched, the plaudits will still ring to the waving of the fleeting rock that can. Reach for yours, please forget praying about the matter. You must deserve the party's best regardless of where it leads.

So this one time, I liked this lady who lived there. The warehouse enclave which exploded in popularity a decade ago. My grannies' house became just one more reason to pan past those fourteen feet buildings; probably holding truck loads of sardines, cement and even canned cows. But yeah, this girl made Gabrielle Union look like one of the three ugly sisters in Cinderella. Her skin tone was nearly as dark as bitumen; her neighborhood's dusty roads desperately needed that. She constantly made me feel guilty. "Ah mehnn. I'm actually bypassing the junction that leads to my grannies house, to see a lady I might not even marry? I have a problem paaa." Please, my hormones were stronger than the Spartans. Don't judge. So the " I'm going to visit a friend '' excuse I gave my parents led me there. Funny enough, I had been to her blue-gate house more times than can be counted on a baby millipede. But I always waited at the bus station and calle

So this morning my breakfast isn't going down well. Okay. Let me attempt to describe my predicament. I might be love-sick or whatever you want to call it. But wanting to love someone is never a bad idea in my book. So strings pulled us together. Mind you, this wasn't planned. I really wanted to learn to play the guitar and still do. Her wriggly arms don't faze me at all, rather, its the weight of her heart that draws me close. I hope I don't get the distance card played after this disclosure. She might be my penguin and...okay! let me keep quiet. Unlike my today's lasagna you're not patty packed. Full of pure substance but still light enough to carry. Those red roses didn't replace your sunflower love. But I hope they lingo relayed my heart's beat. I might not be your dream not the complete package. Let's build some on the kingsize and find fullness in Him.

It might seem obvious but the eyes might not be naked enough to perceive beyond the veil which your history placed over them. I'm not self-seeking I remember telling you days ago That I wish my heart was transparent whilst it poured itself on you. Then maybe you'll see what exactly I'm trying to say whenever my fingers strum to the tapping of your feet.

There were miners Scrapping against walls Those screens had more ore But they never found some. These forehead torch goons Risked limb, pushed limits sadly they always left empty bats they became to riches. Like these valiant paupers my sight is lost at its worst to the elusive lucre called love Don't ask me why.

My tips blistered today as the song begun once more. On these flat fifty strings my fingers struggled to strum to. The measure seemed too wide, too rich to wrap my head around. Steady hands didn't help as the refrain reached me. My platelets were helpless as the gush streamed on. My blood turned tear-salty whilst my knees rebuked the scurge.

What a love. I have not deserved a nano of this. Countless times, many moments my love has failed But not this one. This love sought me even when I didn't seek after it. What a compelling yearn to rescue those like me a yesteryear shipwrecked soul. This love made me. My downsitting, it is privy to. It has searched me and known me. Endless love, search me some more till I'm without guile.

The strings that joined them tore like they have before. A mind never paid left them the same way. A miniature, a type A copy of the real kind It's just jewellery, but it's not Even without touch or sight. The other's stayed on your right wrist whilst our initials tore. I'm the villain and so sore Cos before we began, it wasn't mended.

These blue envelopes have pressed against the plough, walked the alleys of the Row where death skids past men. These soles have accrued miles on end Seeking those that are his Just to tell them its not lost. My aldos They've tasted my tears  as the Holy Spirit touched me. They've become more than shoes.

There isn't any chocolate on there No force field pulling my mouth's magnet I'm not taking advantage of you either I just fell for them. No accolades, no prizes can compare to the gift of your glistening face They're not the reason I'm stricken I just thought you should know. You might not feel a thing. Well, I hope you do Knowing they mean a bit of something would mean everything to my lips. Signed Kojo.

So is it impossible? To be what I'm not Or escape the identity the heavens gave Its not that I'm lost Just inspecting my sides. Laughter and tears altogether when the cocktail is a mix A mix worthy of a blissful purge. I'm a lamp with oily wicks And a shadow of many doubts. A walking contradiction? Seems so. I've never ridden the cirrus clouds But I remain a bird Without what makes one.

I grab myself Cuddle myself I'm not a new born Don't need swaddle cloth But somehow i just wish it was so. Just wish she would grab me Wrap my being and heart Seeing that both are hers for the taking It's obvious to the blind bus stop beggar How much she means to me. I grab myself Feeling this nocturnal numb Mostly in my right arm Because I leaned on her left Whilst I laid in my bed alone.

The Creation of Adam, c.1510 (detail) So what does a thing mean? That thing we cherish and abhor. All at the same time depending on your coordinates. The thing with which we dare not do without. Kinsmen could be the source of it. Or the family we find on our journey. The one thing that keeps a young melanin man up at night. It is difficult to become self-didactic with this. Yet I am looking for the meaning that plunges you. Into the depths drenched with a thousand oysters. I know the meaning exists. But its taking too long to notice. So you're asking what this thing is? It could be the first thing you thought of when I clearly told you afore and then. Maybe its not what I know now But what you're yet to find out. Show me when it comes.

She's got much gold So much gold in her gaze. When she stares I dare not stay unfazed. Though she's ebony, her darkness is my light. Beaming with such glory at the sight of her night. She throws up gemstones clear stones of orthoclase when words flow from her stream they cause my wet weakness. She's not just royalty Hera is her protege twice. I'm turned to cold karats Cos she's got golden eyes. Words Orthoclase: transparent yellow stone or feldspar. Hera: From Greek mythology, the goddess of women.

I've heard a lot about seeds About sowing About the harvest When reaping becomes the reward. But what about my life? Have I sown that? Am I truly the living sac? Lord, help me lord. I've listened to pastor preach severally It's difficult for me Because my pockets don't like the message They feel lonely soon after. I have read I have spread Spread my bread upon the waters But have I sold out my all? Is my heart fully offered? I've put my hands to the plough But Sodom seeks me out Lord, help me Lord. Father says bring your first-fruit I'll obey Godly counsel But have I sown myself? Have I sown my life?