He that seeth beyond the eyes of mere mortals

From East, North, West to South his eyes perceives

From the peak of the mountains above to the valleys beneath; his eyes miss naught

From the deepest of the seas to the apex of the lands he perceiveth all

He seeth you

He seeth me

He seeth your trials and tribulations

He seeth your distress and predicament

He seeth those teary eyes

Yea the tears from that weary body

And he saith to you, remember ye that he seeth

Give up not, for the right time comes

Just the right time

For the Big Eye seeth ALL

Yea, He seeth you!

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Adom Nsuo

Adom Nsuo, the epitome of God’s grace

This grand rain of grace drains from the throne of grace

And it’s encounter lightens up your face

And when the rain of grace is with you in every race

Being successful becomes an assured phrase

Whilst failure becomes just a mere phase

The grace lifts man to a highly honoured place.

To the weak and abandoned, it tightens you back like the shoe lace

Arrows being shot at night is your back case

For His grace provides wisdom to solve your case

And make provisions to maintain your steps without disgrace

It cleanses our sins without leaving any trace

Yes, Adom Nsuo! the rain of grace is falling in your heart, it’s rightful place.

Drink of it in faith and be in God’s desired place.

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To The Drunkard’s Daughter

We like to drink,
We love to drink,
We live to drink,

We like drinking,
We enjoy drinking,
We worship drinking,

We drink for the gods
We drink to quest their needs,
We drink to hear their good words

We drink for our ancestors
We drink to connect with their sailors
We are drunk to see their trailers

We do not respond to our names in it
We respond to the gods’ names in it
We fill our ancestors’ hunger in it

We don’t intend a bad name for another,
We replaced worries with candor.
We take out enjoyment for demeanor.

We know it’s our identity;
We bought it with our sanctity.
We carry it on our heads like impossibility.

We know it’s a headcover
We never intend to handover
We know you will comeover

We are sorry you bear our act
We know you hated this fact.
We are thankful for taking pride in our pact.

We know how you felt.
We understand your burst
We apologize for our heist

Al Latif Kambo-Naa

This poem was written as a sequel to Sugar Kpiebaya’s The Drunkard’s Daughter
“Its Father’s day, people are celebrating their Father’s, what do you have to say about your father today? Here is what I have to say…”


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Reach for the light maybe you might reach the skies
I know it’s hard
I know it’s painful
I know it hurts
I know it costs
I know it’s sacrificial

But you’ve got to smash it to the ground
You’ve got to be where you have to be
You’ve got to rise those frail bones
You’ve got to change the situation
You’ve got to make it happen

You are more than the situation
You are more than what they think!
You are more than conqueror!
If it’s worth achieving then it’s worth paying the price
Reach for the light maybe you might reach the skies
Maybe, just maybe, you might touch a star

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Four Minarets?

For they’ve lost their guardianship,

Swords of star-like crescents

To the comforting motherly hands,

and pampered palace palm.

A soldier stood at the South gate,

Wailing to a rooted wind,

A casual sway,

Berthing in turquoise Sea,

Sing-song a melody of Ramadan,

Herd Jannatul Naeem into

A marauding pellet of Masjid.

In the Western Ward

A giant heating ray of the hurty sun

Born a healthier hearthstone

In a gerrymandering heart;

An enigma,

Lubricating an engine of faith

into a brighter fate.

In the Northern Neighborhood,

A bull voice bulldozing

Throughout a path of patience,

Felling trees of Faith along its way,

Smearing it walls with sainthood,

Florals in florescent plaited walls

In a harmattan party.

Now, all roads lead to Eastlinton,

A prayer party,

Burning in believer’s larynx

Waxing their toils

contained in undiluted pinnacles of desires.

Recoiling soulless sins to their origins,

Whiles, I freed greed from bondage

I know a man in the gardens of Eden

Who cried;

Uh ho, he didn’t cry, he sobbed.

Yet it’s all the same,

A beautiful woven minaret has fallen

caught in the agony of a pandemic,

Minarets, inviting the aged,

and the youth, the young and children

to its emblem of piety,

Recleansing burdened hearts.

Minds congested in worldly matters,

Has indeed laid silent, muted


Oh! What a world? A period! A time!

When the human Naeemas

Folded their sleeves,


than a rocking Monkey.

A sombering moment

for the Mukaraboons,

Oo hail the detractors’ kitabs!!!

A reflective period for the Munafiquuns.

How do we tap the shine of the Saabiquuns

Drumming an encapsulated sheaths

Of nothingness?

And so does the sleeping minarets

Wielding their star-crescent,

bulldozing through covid19 era,

without casualties

The four minarets?

None could speak those panting words

Connecting night’s knights

of prayer warriors

In their wavy armor,

shinning the bright light of the moon,

In their bent posture.

Skidded wharves,

Whip along ascending skies,

Pulling up numbers from all corners

Under its merciful umbrella,

‘Harry to success.’

For it has lost its power to the clawing fangs

Of a pandemic, called Covid19,

Tearing its beauty into tills of agrarian beds.

yet no life.

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A person in the mirror

A person in the mirror

You have never cared,

What others had to say,

You always stood your ground,

While others walked away

You love a challenge,

And you love life…

I’ve never seen you,

Back down from a fight

When you see a problem,

You find a way to fix it,

You press forward

(While others)

Are quickly looking for an exit.

I know you’re tired,

We all have our days,

You got to dust yourself off

And jump back in the race

You’ve had your moments of doubt

But they’ve been few and distant.

You’ve been down before,

And this is no different

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As It Is Written(To Pain They Mourned)

As it is written,
An inverted Earth
Oh! Hear her children cry
Resound like the keening wails of a drowning lament
Inhabitants therein, like vagabonds with no abode
To pain they mourned

As it is written,
The earth mourns His wrath
Wrath of equality
Knoweth no king, servant, priest nor mistress
To turn he warned
To pain they mourned

As it is written,
The ancient one, impartial his ways
Immovable his path
Men of old hear and obey, In reveal he counsels
A choice given, but folly counsels
To pain they mourned

As it is written,
Famine and Death
A choice made, Of hollow worth!
Of blasphemy and iniquity, His wrath abounds
Plentiful His rage, abundant His fury
To pain they mourned

Isaiah 24:1-4

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Time and Judgement – A Quatrain

To watch, and to pray
To mock on a bay
The twisted mind
Inlets a sea of condemnation on mankind

To watch, and to pray
To counsel the wise on the Way
For who knoweth what shall be
The discerning? Their end? Maybe?

To watch, and to pray
The future, a murky gay?
Broken dreams? Jovial seams?
To life beseems?

To watch, and to pray
The promised day
Time and Tide, a merciless superintendent
For man, hope, to a time and judgment!


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