All Through Me

My mind still wants to call you perfect but we both know that you’re not.

I can’t write anymore cos when I put pen to paper, all that comes out is you.

And when your bitter words cut me like a sharp daggered sword, all I bleed is you.

My tongue burns with the sourness of your name when I speak it, and it hangs heavily on my breath when I don’t.

The gates of my eyes don’t do that great a job of holding back the flood of tears.

When they do come through, they still give me no peace.

They’re just a sad reminder of my misery, my pain, my weakness.

I’m soaked all through and when I’m wrung out, all that flows is you.

You’re still sat squarely on my shoulders and thoughts of you have taken root in my heart with no desire to leave.

The dark crimson memories march down the dirty tainted walls of my womb in fury, begging to exit my filthy body, staining my womanhood, leaving discomfort and insecurity in their wake, stealing my self-worth.

Now all I have is doubt.

So how did you lock me inside myself without shutting the fucking door?


As Simple As Love

What is love? Do you believe in love? Are you in love? Have you ever been in love? What made you love him or her? Now, people are divided in their answers to this last question. They either go speechless and cannot explain why they love that guy or girl, or they rattle off some attributes of the person they love, only to realise that they just love them for who they are.

It’s as simple as love. It really is. I mean, don’t get me wrong; yes, love is as equally confusing and complicated as it is simple. You just don’t get it sometimes. See, you can live without your love for a period of time; a week, a month, a year (e.g. in long-distance relationships). However, they’re always there in your mind and you find yourself thinking of them and longing for them, and you’re never quite complete till you’re back in their arms.

To me, it’s the same with God. If you’re a Christian, think of how it feels when you feel estranged and distant from God for a long time. Sure, you’ll be physically okay, but that emptiness you feel cannot be filled by anyone or anything else but Him. And for non-believers, I always wonder if there isn’t a gnawing feeling of needing that support and peace that you know humans just can’t provide. But what do I know? After all, there are people who don’t believe in the simple notion of love.

Here’s another way I like to think of it. Love is a gift. You wonder why some people seem so bitter all the time? Well, there ya go! Something hinders their acceptance of the gift of love and this could be outright stubborn refusal or experiences may have forced them to close themselves off from love. It’s the same with God and why certain people choose not to believe in Him.

Love always wants what’s best for you. Don’t believe me? Just think of your parents. Sometimes, it feels like they give us the most headaches. Nevertheless, you know they mean no harm with their corrections and advice to you. As I’m realising, as you mature you value and understand their advice so much better.

For some, it could also be a question of proof. Where’s the proof that love exists? Well, you tell me! It’s different for everyone (see first paragraph). Where’s the proof you’ll see tomorrow? Tomorrow is never there until you’re walking in the today that was yesterday’s tomorrow and therefore inherently isn’t tomorrow anymore. Yet, everyone has plans for the [unseen] future; to eat supper this evening, buy that dress tomorrow, that car next year…isn’t that hope – even faith – in something that seemingly doesn’t exist?

Now, I’m no theologist; I’m just a teenage lover trying to explain love in its purest form as I understand it. As long as I believe in human love, a phenomenon I’ll admittedly never understand, I’ll believe that love is God.


A feature on an amazing young man doing great things in Ghana! #TwoCedi #MadeInGa


Elliot Lartey on how he got started, 2015 Prospects, and why friends matter

The Ghanaian fashion industry is on the ascendancy. Many Ghanaians are now wearing with pride, African wax and confidently flaunting other accessories draped in fine African prints. It is uncommon; nowadays to walk down the streets of Accra or other towns in Ghana without encountering numerous people clad nicely in African apparels.

The current boom-if I may call it such-is pinged on two reasons. Firstly, the undeniable resplendence of the African wax and the tasteful designs that local fashion designers cut out from them. These designs are eye catching and reek of quality.

Secondly, is the affordable nature of these products. The affordability factor means that many customers, who hitherto were unable to buy, can now patronize products without breaking the bank. That is, people could now wear or own clothes and other accessories of almost the…

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Seven Minutes Till Tomorrow

Seven minutes till tomorrow
I sit under the tree of time
Listening to the birds
Quietly ticking above
Watching the squirrels
Busy scurrying below
Tracing the skyline
The white clouds floating by

But something isn’t right
It isn’t day; it’s night
So why does this odd time
Seem so bright in my mind
Well, is my sight alright?
It’s giving me a fright
The birds I see
The glee I feel
In watching squirrels feed

The world is upside down
Or maybe inside out
We work the day too hard
Now even night must pay
Time we borrow
Joy is sorrow
Seven minutes till tomorrow

Golden Series 2.2: Love Less – Minus 72

Love less – minus 72
Cold sinking in, seeping in
To the bones all brittle
Mind unmade, all fickle
Waging war, it’s a battle
The Id, the Ego, it’s a scuffle
The motive, the debate
Insecure and unresolved
Cold sinking in, seeping in.

The need to know
To decide, why so
On impulse, run down
Quick steps, don’t miss the turn
Gail, hail, gust of wind
Don’t even stop to think
Above all, be chill, cold.

A beating mind
Present quadratics to satisfy
But hearts are opaque
Solid outside, hidden inside
Integrate, don’t be shy
The song is not the definition though
One plus one’s not three
And it’s not one

Rush to be free
Too fast, too hard
And the ground takes over
Walls of illusion
Pierced by the arrow of realisation
Shatters the noise that clouds intuition
Clatters into pieces the peace I find
Cold. Sinking in. Seeping in.

Golden Series 2.1: Love Less – Minus 24

Love Less – Minus 24
Love less – minus 24
Cold, yeah, not quite though
Cos heaven’s not.
Heart on overdrive
Working overtime
Cold, yeah, not quite though

Online and on-line and in-line
Now, diction…go forth
Silence… punctuate
No. No hair piled high.
Just listen, ask, talk
Now pour forth, drum along now
Laughter like a song, yeah…a song
Ok, it’s taking over, too much over
Let go, now pull back, yeah drop it now

Dawn, greetings and journeys
Cold, yeah, not quite though
Frozen fingers fighting not to
But the battle’s lost, and it’s still there.
Fields of magnet, the pull
Distracted train of thought
The wait for the vibration

Now, break up the day…then relief
The song again, and the song again
From above who saw the best in me
Uncivilised on the street
Lock it up, but set it free
Oh stop it, oh shut up
But acknowledging what is in the heart
Decisions, decisions: Break a heart or win one
Yeah, and finally acceptance shivers through the body
Cold, yeah, not quite though.

My Faithful Wife

Her slender frame was a sight to behold.

And when she held her neck high, she possessed an unrivalled elegance.

I was proud to have her by my side; and when I held her hand, we really were the perfect couple.

She covered my head with her wings and I couldn’t be more in love with one who protected me so.

How many could boast of such a love?


See, I was a man who you’d call a chap, a dapper gentleman.

She completed me.

Rain or shine, she was there, beating off the temptations of the day when they threatened to dampen my mood.

Her bright colours drew admirable glances wherever we went, and the young girls were eager to follow her fashion sense.

Oh, I love her so.

For what would a young man in today’s London do –

Without his beautiful faithful umbrella?