The Hustle

Lately I have been uninspired to write. The emotions that ticked inside of me and pushed me to my keyboard have lost their power to do so. Love. (Hopefully it will gain its power again because I have stories to tell).

Just today I was going through one kuul website peeping at the stories. There were just simple stories that just required a little research and I, seeing the author’s names at the bottom of the text made me smile. I thought “it will be nice to see my name on here.” Plus I can get to add it to the list of things I do when that comes up in a conversation, next to playing the guitar and falling for people demma women.

giphy (3)

So I did a little research and found out that they want people to write content targeted at young people especially the campus crowd. I am out of the university so I felt that would be kinda hard to do. But just as I was typing the previous line I got this idea to share my experiences, stories and lessons from back in the university. That would appeal to the campus crowd, I think.

That’s what I am going to do. giphy (2)






Take me back to 69 Sixty-nine,

To a country that was just twelve,

Before She ever knew pain.

Take me on that time machine ride

To the Woodstock Fair where we Rolled in to Rock…


Or take me to that place in Sixty-nine

Where Pleasure was born, with no Pain.

Where bodies have conversations and

I give you what you give me,



Let me experience that sixty-nine

Where its just you and me

Going in different directions

To the location, Climax Bay.

We don’t want the ’70s

Less is more so we stay in ’70’s eve

All night, then hit it again

In the Morning.

The Corny Note

To the ONE my heart beats for…
I want to attempt to use words to do the impossible… to express the love I have for you… Even though I would love to use more than words, the enemy; distance, will only permit words. From the day we met on the streets of tweetsville… from the first mention to the first dm, it’s been endless smiles and joy in my heart. Having conversations with you was a dream come true, well a part of the dream… Every time I hear ‘bazinga’ (my WhatsApp tone) a part of me wishes it’s you. Even though we haven’t actually met, pictures of you feed my admiration. And till that day when I set my eyes on the most beautiful thing a man can be privileged to see, I’m holding on to every comma, and full stop you text to me with hope that the full dream too becomes a reality. I know this love, I’d give u my heart, and hope that you keep it and cherish it and never return it. I couldn’t use words to fully express my love for you… But I hope these words will mean something…
Your Crush.

The Unpublished Series.

So I was going through my old phone’s memo pad and I found some notes I had written some time ago. Some where to be posts for this blog which never got completed. Others were actual notes to people that probably never got them.
Since I have been reunited with them I will feed this blog with them since it has been dry for a while.

My Kwabena Dumor

Its funny, I was looking for motivation to write today…
Death answers prayers too. Apparently.

Death has caused separation, but here I am, putting words Together…

Kwabena Dumor is dead. Well that’s how I used to call him during my early teenage years

“Mama, komla dumor’s face doesn’t fit his voice” I told my mum this the first time I saw him on TV, I was annoyed he didn’t look like who I imagined but I’m still not over that… (Like that matters now)

Every morning after quiet time, I turned the radio on and had breakfast with him. Information always tasted good! I always liked the songs he played in the mornings, it always got this lad in a good mood for school…

It was like this for years… Until he finally moved completely to bbc…

I remember I looked forward to his return. each time he was absent for a day or two on the Morning Show…

But there is no looking forward to His return this time round. He’s gone.

You were my, [role model *crosses out*] guy. You made Journalism seem so cool. I thank you for all the things you taught me and the fun times you made me have.

Now all that is no more; RIP komla.

NB: I didn’t listen to you much on BBC, but let me have the frequency of Afterlife FM, and I’d be sure to listen.

Rest In Peace.

I Won’t Give Up

Me do wo.

I want you to be mine.

As cliche as this sounds,

I can assure you my feelings for you

Are nowhere near cliche.

The greatest tragedy wasn’t you not being in my sight,

But me not realizing when the time was right

To tell you how I felt.


I love you.

It’s the one thing I’ve been most certain about

My entire life.

Even an abacus couldn’t make me as certain about 1+1

But the uncertainty of you feeling the same

Held me back.


Now someone else is saying these 3 words to you.

I will never know if he means them like I do

But I just hope he loves you better than I would

It seems Fate has decided

But until it changes its mind

Why We Go Blue

We are born for a purpose but
We lay in silence
Silence that we long to escape from
But until the promised time
We can just hope
For a jail free card.

The authorities decide
And we rejoice
Because hope is about to materialize
We are about to be let out
So we stay aroused.

We pack our bags and belongings
We are leaving Egypt
Into the Promise Land
Where our destiny lies
But where lies exist
We are never certain
But we cling on to hope

Hope disappoints
And decisions are overturned
An authority has cold feet
Seems we are going to stay in Egypt
We plead Mercy, but she’s got her mind made up
Now dreams have been shattered.
Anger embraces us
And in our moment of rage
We decide to riot
Disturb our sacs until we are let out!




See You Later

The conversation came to an end
And the teasing was no more
So the giggles slowly faded.
After the goodbyes had been said
And distance became a constant
All I wished  for, was to
see you later

We had just seen each other
We had just touched each other
You had just touched my soft spot
And left me in a tight spot
You had just told me how the city felt
Like how you make me feel
So i wanted to
see you later.

Its 3am
I’m sitting thinking
Not knowing
What more I want to write
Not knowing
Which words would suitably
Describe what I mean
Not knowing
If the laughter we shared
Was something you wanted to come back to
But I know I want to
see you later.

I’d just hold on
To the Terminator goodbye
And terminate all uncertainties from my mind.
And I will, Deo volente
see you later.