Seen by Adatsi Brownson from Ghana

-
​SEEN​

For months, mouths spoke and narrated
the ordeal of former days
that are yet to be repeated

My eyes and ears wished
they saw and hear, this days so
but the heart is afraid to bear

Are stories true?
And can threads move through
like the unseen eye of a needle?

I became a sentry, just to see
Stories manifest
My pens are yet to swindle nature
to meet the synopsis of a dreadful dance in hell

We've seen Rome collapsed
And here you are dancing to the pompous array of words.

When last did I see hell break lose?
But today,  I spotted hot stones dine with ice
Are stories true?

Should I say overcrowded water base
Or simply flood
The long discussed and awaited unwanted
has arrived, just in my dish plate.

Give me a space, for I have seen beyond hell
I can now clearly see money and blood yell
And anything I say here can be used against me in the Court of realistic fiction.

Now all your stories about the destructive flood
rendering people homeless
is seen.

©Adatsi Brownson

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How I died unfulfilled by Nosar Phillips

-
I was born to be a saggitarius but nature turned things around Ousted on earth amidst two unwanted The mother,well was a maid. Whom was hit wrongly by cupids bow for a man cursed to drunk. I shall forget to smile that i stand upon thy corpse,remembering how i loved thee. And ill try to have thee scribed on all three hearts. The clock struck death on our mothers bossom Yes, our mother!!! There those violent streets delights have estactic ends for only the night. And in the taste of a better life i sought of a couple who traded slaves, and gave me a roomie. A bird i killed one night. I was a sober suited young. Loved one minute, mistreated and harshly disciplined the next. According to my master's mood. His wife was silent, she did not care, she was not my mother. I always sat at night in my Harry porters cupboard writing poems for a woman i would love. My first poem was cursed to roam the bin in pieces like Cain from the holy book. Farewell virgin poem,i know we s...
Read more

pain

-
Image
 What are we going to do? * Dear mr president I hope state house is fine for the state of the nation cannot be housed they have been aroused  What are we gonna do When we spent all our income on paying fee What are gonna do When We work hard the money we get can only take us through one meal suffering everyday What are we going to do Government promised to create a million jobs still we have a million jobless youths What are we going to do Ghetto youths work hard live on pushing a cart meditate with khat piercing themselves with syringes hoping the day will be brighter  But it is still gloomy temptations to steal but are shot dead because of a crumb of bread The future is still not clear society what are we gonna do Opharns sleep on empty stomachs, politicians sleep on there millions beneath the bed.  What are gonna do  Government tell me what are going to do  Drought prevailed you promised boreholes now floods threaten ...
Read more

Tears of pen by phylopas the great

-
Image
Full of talent But cant make ends meet Qualifications are all met But the job you do not fit What again is neded? Yet the quacks have succeeded Is it money? Soo sweet than honey It flows in our veins Eats us up all,no remains With no conections your end begins It is that money that reigns Ooooh corrupt me! Elsewhere i deserve to die But here i walk shoulders high We control the economy Transparency is just a philosophy Subjects cry but it is the obvious We do not care the previous We the boss Subjects get the loss Thats me No blasphemy I wont interrupt For i am corrupt Africa is my name That is my game            ©PHYLOPASTHEGREAT2018
Read more