Letter From Propaganda School

“The best time to slap a King, Is when a fly settles on his cheek”. We salute the Generals Dismiss our morals Mock our laws, Dent our image with unidentifiable claws And arrest Christ with sin. We blindfold wrongs Call them heroes, and shout their praise with angelic songs. We fear and hail thou O men, And confiscate God’s supreme crown, By defending their rags and tattered tags. Burn you. Burn then Babylon jargons thou say, O ye Politician, burn you! Distraught. The human mentality is fossilized And you ride on it by poisoning our systems, With venom and illusion(ed) dreams. Burn you, and again Burn them resume, Of power drunks, and mend thy people’s wounds. Stories unfold in twist and turns, Our coffers are encroached by militant pythons Robbing the people’s pride of their taxes and bargains Burn you. Burn you who cannot manage thy own home, But take up the wishful ambitions of the citizenry Burn you. And let it not be that you corrupt their ego With fumes and webs embargo. Hijackers, rapist, destroyers, terrorist, propagandist, and masquerade royalist Burn you that politician who is a banking institution And float shares and bonds to the innocent people. Na we blind? Burn them that frost our eyes, And grease our palms during a condomized electoral order Opportunist, riggers, corrupt vibrators, and let it never be that the slave awakens to the light of day and let it not be that the ancestral spirits avenge their toils, with tearful curses as tempers fray. Let it never be! With your trumpeting ills, Our doctors drain our hospitals, And break the Hippocratic Oath, Whilst our youth flee our shores in search for materialism In flooded thoughts of imperialistic Diarrhea Burn you. Burn you for fixing our colleges, But insulting our ethics, by sending your children abroad. Na we blind? Na book we go chop abi? Again, burn you for nodding your head And chuckling to these tunes and beaming in smiles, Than, been remorseful Burn you a thousand times ‘till you archive your pride In coffins of never again. And I opine, “The best time to slap a King, Is when a fly settles on his cheek”.
Profile photo of Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah lives in Ghana and an African Poet. International Poetry congresses and festivals have included his poetry presentations and writings in their programs. He is an award-winning poet and has participated in Poetry events, readings in and out of Ghana, including Greece. As a Kostis Palamas poetry prize winner and Guest editor of Poetry Space-UK, he is being published widely in Literary Journals, Anthologies and newspapers in the UK, Canada, India, Ghana, Malawi, South Africa, Pakistan, Hungary, Greece, USA and other web hosting literary Magazines. He uses his form of poetry in projecting brotherhood of peace, love and beauty in all style, and a distinguished member of United Poets Laureate International (upli-USA), World poetry Canada, Ghana Association of Writers’ (GAW) among others. Michael’s poems have been translated into other languages such as polish by Piotr Balkus, Croatian by Vinko Kalinic, Hungarian by Istvan Dabi and read on Co-op radio 102.7 in Canada by Ariadne Sawyer He is a Project Support Executive of Rakes Company Limited, holds a Bachelor’s degree in Management Studies from the University of Cape Coast and finds poetry as a tool of promoting peace and conquering the opponent with love. He is about writing his first poetry book. You can reach the Poet at kmsogh@gmail.com and blogs on www.mkksomuah.wordpress.com

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