A black skin breaks away from; a stellar spoken word piece!

The world's a tennis court

The world is a parted rectangular lawn
With two gentlemen apart,
One at a side
And the other at another side;
Each man born a conqueror;
Has his ways bounded by oppositions,
The prime enemy, the net, being a perilous barrier.
At the wars, every incoming ball is a challenging instance.
But Whosoever learns to win before the war,
Counters defeat ―holds a greater fraction to his destiny.

There may be traitors ―a racket broken to the enemy's advantage.
And the inner man ―the confidence within,
Whose zeal in any day could die like a melting butter.

When rallies come long,
These feet may tremble
With the arm hardened like wax.
But do not give up so soon.
Should you seek a favorable wall to lean upon?
Not the lines men nor the fallible umpire ―our greatest betrayal.
Who by external influence may foul the virtue of fidelity.
No matter how beautiful the swings seem,
In no case will all commendations be handsome and pleasing.
There's always one man with a scornful applause in the stands.

Is the arm broken?
Stiff and hardening like wax?
Unable to make the ace?
Like death, this is how injury comes
Exiting us from this rectangular field
Of spins
Of volleys
Of slices
Of adversaries
Of beautiful swings and aces.
This is how death comes;
Vainly plucking our unripened dreams.
This is how death comes;
Game―
Set―
And a sorrowful match.


© Awuah Mainoo Gabriel
African Spear

When you see the African abroad

When you see the collier’s son abroad,

With his pigment like your heart

Pardon, pardon, sir!

Do not show him, the gun.

Do not let him know

That both skins are different potteries of one God,

Just tell him;

Both are also the fetuses of mid winter’s joy

Else he may abhor his pride.

When you see the collier’s son abroad

Do not be too witty on him

Else you’ll become a fool.

You may give him the shovel for vain labor

Aftermath if he’s still stronger than you,

Do not keep him as gold

Neither should you tell him to come home

Just say to him;

Afro boy ―your footprints have gathered flames.

A moment by the river side

When mi life hath seen enough of tormenting betrayals

I’ll prefer to sit on the foamy rocks

B’neath the nature paradise

There, where the clement rivers doth cure,

And watch the healing crystal waters delightfully bend

And sometimes, I’d love th’ rivers to solemnly curve along

With th’ pallidness of my soul

Moping each scar of love denied.

Halt you waters―Thou may hear mi tragic tale,

“I’ve loved with such an infinite heart like you waters,

Friends counsels were― but a sweet bane

Father’s warmness was―but a titanic storm

Folks, thy promises were―but a never-born sun,

Dim, dead and rotten in thy “D” figured paunch vault.

So me, Mainoo, an endowed star like me;

When denials hath become a shadow b’neath my good name

Should the fine light

 Of my glistening boon soon be vainly gone?

Hold me Ghana, Africa― I am the light in thy gloom,

So you see, Mi flowing friend

Every man’s life is his own war,

The kin is―but a liability

Our loved ones are―but our greatest weaknesses”

Nature may I be thy eternal companion?

In you I confidently confine in.

As I steal a silent ear,

I find life’s music in thy miming.

See, the airy flight there’s pleasure in their gildings.

 The unflagging hangers, life is beautiful b’neath those trees.

Thy boundlessness hath taught me of man’s eternal war,

And in thy music I find my triumph song.

 Somewhere th’ estuary where th’ ocean and tide gladly merge,

Such gesture has eagerly taught me to reconcile.

And at thy tributary, If you were a small stream,

 You’d reluctantly flow into a Lethe so grand!  

Such gesture too hath taught me of man’s exile.

Teacher!

 Until a long eve comes twice to me this day;

I shall be strong

I shall be strong!

Away Away

Damn you Nightingale!

Must thee plaint ev’ry darling morn?

Hush Hush Away!

Mi son still snore by six upon mi chest

Away away Migrate!

Flee far o’er mi window

For mi son’s pleasure grows height in sports

 Ay! Not in music!

 Away Away Flee!

 Hath is it been thee

Thou wilt murmur with thy awful beak

Away! Sing along the whistling air

Or seek Apollo and be servant

For music thy glorious boon.



     

©Awuah Mainoo Gabriel

      African-spear

Columbus; Soldier in Tear

Many times have I heard daggers rattle,

Along the frontline the justice stabbed too

The more the lust; profusely men bled

And cries and sobs; anthem of the day

And love and peace departed before warriors.



Behind the fallen men, justice stood not bruised

And honor and true victory went to men

Who preserved them swords unstained.



When the soul travelers had known remorse

The fire had already brought them despair and anguish

And sorrow pounded in their chest like the plague

And their heavy wails;

Chinking the inferno walls

And there cried Columbus aloud and aloud

“War is sour, war is sour,

Make I an advocate; lemme go preach the world the lie

That “War is foul, and hell, not a jail for a man with soul”



There and there the heavens quaked

Beside Abram’s throne a soul reproached

“Nay Nay―the road is one,

When you wish to be slain like fowl

You can’t refuse to yowl

The sword is word without push

It be true, war is sour, hatred and horror in ambush

Wobble, moan, groan; accept whatever war could give

See― a thin boiling cataract running down your cheek in despair

Ho, ho! Soldier in tear!

Should Thee spare thy soul,

Go tell the world war is vain and war is foul!”



      ©Awuah Mainoo Gabriel

                   African-spear

When death opines

When death opines

T’is solely Thee who grants

Folly of science might reprove

But ev’ry sound mind must know;

The hands that moulds is the hand

That know’st where and when to parch

And the season to dismantle

Healer! Fetish! Doctor!

T’is thee alone whom by grace revives a pallid soul

Yet thy little works doth heal too

But not when the hand of thee is diminished

He who restoreth Jairus’ rotten faith

Shall never make man moan

Thereafter triumphed beyond death, tribulation, indisposition

Do you?

Vain doctor!

Vain healer!

Vain fetish !

Vain vain!