Gone were the days when a city had as much wanted a leader, cultured, became a system where portraits of the Monalisa replaced that of Obaa Yaa Asantewaa.
The church will burn sweet scented incense, the palace will make libations, the Ghettos will burn “ntampe” as the state hails perpetual, in the name of calling purpose on Otwedeampong Nana Kwame and his son Jesus Kwesi Kanea over bouts in shadows.
An author who said culture matters hence the making of tradition, pointed the doors of a learned trade since the world won’t leave America alone for it’s juice, should it matter that a person from Africa should want to talk like a British after sipping and munching on strawberry milkshake and pink muffins? To bring it near, means to make sure no other has improved on the lives of our old in instance where Akwasi Obroni has to blend Aboriginal life to hip hop when music is for our dancing feet.
Mother still imports match sticks from Indonesia before that bowl of banku will satisfy Kobina Ebo, but implores the government’s idea of using gas and not charcoal for a bumper oil revenue in the slogish “Oka fo didi.” My thoughts if consumed in bouyant politics, anything to make us float to Jah land, because by tomorrow, the shoe shine boy won’t mind taking 50pessewas after fixing the soul of a thousand dollar football boots regardless taxes after the trade senate has read the big brofo budget, if we’re lucky for the price of a sewing thread to be mentioned at the Parliament Hall at least the boys can make profits out of capital.
Well… The government needs new cars so the prime minister can travel to Dansokrom for the lunching of a new quarter, the old entourage don’t seam proud after historising the old Royce papa president took on tour, shall we order? Less not interested, a new currency took me wasted until the bank made note they couldn’t breach prices legally by a half, so a bowl of Daavi’s rice and beans still will taste good after carrying sacks of cement and cocoa if the honorable man will balance prices right.
The Mason will have to pay the foreman off his square build. Ei!!! Paa Kofi’s school fees took a dive for your daddy’s pockets, mind blowing, if by the next day another policy from America comes “adesua fo” might emulate in the name of making great hence forgetting the enlightenment of an old plea made of blood, oh yes we made a plea for mercy, rhetoric it may seem that Uncle Kwesi should have a knack for traditional garment but his wife has got a son so made in denim and a daughter who masturbates to an image of Tupac.
I see me no Knight in shining “amor”, excuse my French, but the news is I’m one person out of a solace who’s power propagates a penis in a vagina if procreation, because the idea of a pegg in a hole only comes square and getting back into a chalice would cost me rubber.
A piece of hell to all New Yorkers, making day dreams of Yankee is heaven and taking away the pride of a queen in the name of a better resonate, now, we’re pied at sharing and making bushes burn before a token coin can be placed on our heads to mean sanity. Tontonti, wine on my blood, it’s a choice for peace if only it takes shakes and fries to make me American, oh yes, I can!!!
By Kobina Tetteh Bennin