Archive for the ‘HARD NUTS’ Category

MANY FACE GOD

Posted: August 7, 2017 in HARD NUTS, THE HAYMAKER
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A face for a moment ,
An expression for the second,
A life for the season,
A smile for the hour,
A cry for the minute.

She lives a life only she can explain
I try to dilute her gestures
Only to have it in high concentration
The many face god
Why choose me for a visit??

To be continued…

#THMpoetry © 2017

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Upon the heated lands of the village
Beside the gentle waters ,
Flowing from the eyes of Mother Earth.
Beneath the mountains there I sit.
Upon the soothing carpet of nature,
I draw my hope and inspiration.
For that is the only way I adore that which is within me.
My fingers yearn for the dirt it was made for.

I cry to the mountain of my fathers,
Seeking an audience at their banquet
But all I hear is a loud silence.
Dear fathers, my fingers yearn for the dirt it was made for.
I wail to the hearing of my mothers
But I’m met with loud laughs
The output of daily today gossips.

Time has come to give hope to the green leaf.
Give it a shade to harness it’s growth.
In my mansion of solitude
I create that which is not made yet.
But with no guidance I pack it into my tent.
Elders of our heritage!!!
Do we not see innovation is in shortage
Not because none exists, but none is natured.

The gateway to success stretches it’s arms wide
Let’s ride on the new tide
The tide of enhancing youthful skills.
The wave of generational innovation.
Our dear village hungers for a handshake with the youth.
Elders of our land,
Grant the green leaves a drink of empowerment.
For with mud our fingers are covered.

#THMpoetry © 2017

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He that treats his herbs with contempt,
Eyes the beautiful African woman with disgust.
Yet scraps his torn pocket for white capsules
Sits for hours to watch a white lie in the glass,
Only to spit a wad of cola at the sound of Atumpan.

“I hate African leaders”
The anthem he so proudly sings
Yet lives like the mouse in his own house.
Preaches the gospel of white supremacy ,
To the glory of the white heaven.

He that looks to the setting sun
Cursing the very day of his naming
Like he came from the womb of a western goddess.
Making me as myself,
Did he suck a white breast ?

Chastising the scent of dear apapransa
Only to salivate over an imaginary pizza
But leaves no trace of kenkey in seconds.
He that knows not the route to his native airport,
Yet prides himself with the history of JFK

Self acclaimed political analyst,
The icon of pure family mismanagement.
So proud to endorse BBC and DW
Yet fails to use the thump to validate
his critique.
The general of matured incompetence.

Wishing to be treated like a king
Though have achieved nothing.
With a belly like a decorated pumpkin
You deserve nothing but flogging
Dear Honorable Black Racist.

NOTE:
I AM NOT A RACIST,  HAVE NEVER BEEN OR WILL EVER BE.
I APPRECIATE THE WORKS OF EACH RACE AND ADMIRE THEM FOR WHAT THEY STAND FOR.

BUT I HATE AFRICANS WHO SPEND THEIR LIVES LIKE A NAGGING WIFE BUT FAIL TO MAKE AN IMPACT IN THEIR OWN SMALL WAY.

IT TAKES ALL IF US TO MAKE AFRICA THE HEAVEN WE WISH IT TO BE,
IF ONLY WE GET OFF OUR BLACK BUTS AND WORK IT OUT TILL WE SEE SUCCESS SMILING AT US BECAUSE WE DESERVED IT.

#THMpoetry © 2017

I’m only a passerby
Sent by success to say hi
That with little push you can go high.
Life is only but an exam
Just believe and be calm

#THMpoetry © 2017

SHADES OF LIFE

Posted: August 1, 2016 in HARD NUTS
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So much for the nature of the crocodile
It comes out of water and stays there for a while
And just as you come by,
It looks at you and winks a Hi.
Life always starts like an empty file
You begin with zero and count to nine.
Filled with delicacies ,the food ,oh not to talk of the wine.
It sweetens , loosens and carries you away unto the islands in the sky.
Making you think, the women, cars, food ,wealth, are all mine
The moment of pure fulfillment as it only remains one thing
I have everything,
Until you realize that you’ve lost something,
Then you know you have nothing.

Life is not all about seed sowing
A time to do thoughts selection ,clearing and plowing, 
The blend of all these become the success weapon
One which you shall grow to rely on.
Like the voice of my beloved
Melting down all feeling of being troubled
Her breath on mine certifies that my .life is doubled.
Like those in shinny suits in long convoys
Talking on screens with an angel’s voice
As they sip the earnings of those they lord over
Only to live their lives always looking over their shoulders
As though being hunted by the evils of the dark bunkers
Where men kill with the ideals of saving our nation.
A nation that dwells in the hands corrupt invasions.

My hustling has ended me in the porch of knowledge
There too taking only the strength of courage
Courage of standing long hours” Book-filled” sense
That which grants you passage over the fence.
Or beneath the fence, as doctrines may say.
Like the clerics in most pure garments of the day
But tainted with the filth of magic,
Oh sorry , modern day Christianity very tragic
Our poor souls hunt for a resting place
For I hear , salvation is a race.
My guess is , there is no place for losers.
But blessed are the givers.
And hopeful are the receivers.

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At the dawn creation
Odomankomah’s consecration
The birds chirped and sang
The waters slept still 
As the moon failed to blink its eye.
The wind moved  soothingly
Whistling to ease the tension
For a great gift to humanity
Was in the protruded belly .

At the break of the sky
By the  rays of the rising sun
As it marches to its station
The gift of leadership was born
A true beauty of selflessness
It leaked of dedication
As it carried the smile of transparency.
Then it cried!
The cry of unity

A genuine gift from Almighty
He ushers unto us gently
A gift of strength
Home of authority
Not to oppress but to care
A means to build not demolish
Leadership is of humbleness
A gift worth grabbing
A gift worth ages and centuries.

The Haymaker © 2015

© The Haymaker 2015

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Life folds and unfolds
Like the mat of a bedwetter ,
It carries an unbearable stench
But a perfume to the bedwetter
It twists and turns
Like the braids of Sisala woman.
Leading to a dark nowhere
Like the path to the graveyard
Though it sometimes leads somewhere
Like rout to a banquet
Hmm mbr3 abrab) tse nye no.

It runs on the decisions
Like the roll coaster on its rails
Though sometimes presents you with none.
It comes at you with unlimited puzzles
Like the app for brain boosting.
But with limited answers.
Like the principle of Economics
Life they say ,
Is how you make it
Like the craft of the blacksmith
What if there nothing to make it
Like the painter without his paint
Hmm mbr3 )bra tse yen .

© The Haymaker 2015

THOUGHTS

Posted: October 5, 2015 in HARD NUTS, THE HAYMAKER
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Weighing down on me are my thoughts.
Raining down on me each second with the oughts .
Passing each moment like a novel
Filled with so many characters
That I wonder how big my head is.

Tossing and rolling on an empty bed,
Through the contours of my viens
Into the knuckles that clutch this pen
Causing it to move according to it’s waves
Like the ballet dancer to her tune.

My mind is at work,
My brain never seize to sigh.
Though I ask myself why,
I know its the surge to aim high
That has been society’s cry.

Holding fast onto my head
Like the beast who just missed being fed.
Hoping to make all seem clear
For that’s all I can bear
With this crown of thoughts I wear.

© The Haymaker 2015

CLAWS OF DEATH

Posted: August 24, 2015 in HARD NUTS
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I have kept quiet for days
Or is it for ages?
Contemplating on what I see
I have kept mute over what I have heard
I smell disgust in the belly of the pure
But I have kept quiet.

Even with my undercloth faded and exposed,
I have still kept quiet.
With the gong gong beater shouting his lungs out
I have still kept quiet
Rising up to see the hungry loins of the crawling ones
I still keep quiet.

The very tree I suck my first breast under
Is being turned into charcoal
But I still keep quiet.
Choking the lungs of the unborn
With the remains of pollution
Corroding the white walls with impurity
But I still keep quiet.

I have been quiet
For ages I have been quiet.
Quietness is death

I have been quiet
All I can do is to stare.
Death has made is so.

All copyrights reserved Haymaker ©2015

ODE OF HEROES

Posted: August 1, 2015 in HARD NUTS
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Callously and clumsily we jump on each other
Feeding on the troubles of one another.
Taking pride in the disgrace of another
From the painful tears of another, we feed
Thinking not of our troubles but of the grunts and groans of another.
Do we not tire from our “selfless selfishness”?

With steel hard rods between our legs
As we droll over maidens.
As though our pockets are full
I tell you what;
They are full of envy and bloody jealousy.
The symbol of a “true man”.

We learned of “dame” ;
Game of the wise
Now our domain
For its a game of drunkards.
The mighty )ware; Game of the lazy.
Our lips waits the greetings of the calabash

Arguing from dawn to dusk
As though we were on Talking
Point.
I guess we would make great pundits
Splattering saliva all about
With hopes of licking up our woman’s soup.
We leave tomorrow to itself

All copyrights reserved Haymaker ©2015