Too Late a Musing

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If you save a bullet for my fall, I will save a rose for yours. And we all know where wreaths go to die.

Kedy Kwakye
May 29, 2017
Late night musings

Painting, by Okaji

Painting But completion arrives in the most limited sense, outlines enriched and filled with lush darkness, the red of an accumulated passion for texture, for subtlety in shade, the tactile being one facet shared with odor and the black hand on the wall, the staircase spiraling upward, resultant desire, body of lust, this wall, our […]

via Painting — O at the Edges

Late Night Musings

Free from pain

Free from stain

Free from lies

Do not explain

Free to fly

Free to die

In arms of love

Beneath, above

The truth is blank

One thing I ask

 

 

 

Do you wanna be happy?

 

About the Night Before the Last

You’re gonna say I don’t try hard enough

But I can’t compete with your indifferences

And on top that I’m handicapped

I can’t seem to reach your walls with these short hands

I mean you cut em short every time with all these fiery acts

You keep stealing glances at him anytime we talk

Two is a company, three’s a crowd

Who even called for a threesome of sorts?

Why am I even here?

I feel like a refugee in my own home

Lmfao this was never a home who am I kidding?

I think y’all look good together

I mean, y’all can have a decent convo at least

I can’t compete with him, he’s got you laughing without a tickle

I shudda learnt another trick

A bruh’s got your back, I used to think

This wasn’t a coup,

It was just one man chasing another man’s air

And we all need to breathe you know.

About Last Night

I tried to write today

How my fingers twitched and gnarled at every word I typed

This is even weird, fingers don’t gnarl at things do they?

Maybe it was the verbs that struggled to sit side by side with the adjectives, complaining all through the lines.

Add. Just. Thieves. Of time, place, manner, wait.

Do those even exist?

I thought those were Add. Verbs.

So that my feelings may gnarl and growl and gnash at any isolated memory of our time, place, manner, wait.

You see what I’m doing here don’t you?

I mean who ever reads between parallel lines?

What is there to see?

Yet still I tried to write today

But like with us,

This page remains blank, needless to say.

Behind the Letters, Words.

Flattery can rise like dough
It can make you think you’re swimming in oceans with coral and
Oh, flattery can make your ears tingle,
Like bunnies on the leap
Like dummies in a heap.
But flattery can fall like snow
Icy cold on the warmth that glows
Beneath your sunshine eyes
See? I’m doing it here, again
But talk is cheap
And so is every conceited word
Swallowed in deep.

For Zara

I Am All Hears

I have been told I was born in the early hours of dawn just after midnight. I have been told it rained so hard that no one heard me cry my first cry. I have been told I was rather too noisy yet adorable with every twist and turn. Oh I have been told I was handsome, so handsome that all the baby girls stopped crying immediately I was brought in. I looked exactly like my pa I’ve been told.

They say I will become a doctor, or a lawyer or any such profession they can think of. They say I’ll be responsible. They even say I will become important in the community, that I will solve problems and bind people. They say people will look up to me. They say a lot of things.

Aku said she likes my eyes. She said they remind her of the stars at night, when the sky is so clear and calm. She said I was sweet when I giggled and smiled at her last night. Aku said that I make her feel safe when I walk her home. She has said that I make her happy. She also says that someone admires me. I know she’s talking about herself.

Mansa told everyone I’m proud. Mansa told Kwame that she doesn’t like me, and complained to Kofi that I am childish. She told Asana and Abiba that I am a cheat. Alidu told me that Asana told him to tell me what Mansa told her yesterday. Then Alidu told me that Mansa is jealous. Alidu told me that Mansa likes me. Alidu told me that she is only afraid of being hurt. I told Alidu that I don’t care.

Naa says her mother said Efo is troublesome. My mother says Efo is bad company. Agya Attah says Efo is disrespectful. Maame Obolo says Daavi is disappointed in her only son. Mauke says Efo says he doesn’t want to be like his father. Mauke says Efo’s father died poor and miserable. Efo says he’s not proud of what he does. I say Efo is my brother.

Some silences are made of words that are tired of being shouted. So my ears hurt. I can’t paint this picture while the colour-blind hangs around my sight. So my eyes fail me. Whether the glass is half empty or half full, it depends on whether we’re drinking or pouring. So my mind is blank. The axe hits where it is asked but the tree falls where it pleases. So my free will is in chains. The storm comes in a mass you see, but oh the rain falls in pieces. So there is hope.

I was told what they thought.
They said what they hoped.
Aku said how she felt.
Mansa said what she didn’t want to say.
Efo said what he feared.

I can hear
They can hope
She can feel
She can pretend
He can fear

They have said. I have heard
They have presented their case. But I am the judge.

I am all hears.

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