Huge Vacuum

Take this little piece of heart of mine
It is all I have got and all I have to give
Aside you, I have lived for no other
But myself in this little piece of worlds
Stitched to hold the scars in my heart
These sketched hopes of a happier life
Keeps this little pieces of heart together
And the hopes of building it together
With a yet to come builder, who will occupy
This huge vacuum left inside every empty but locked room
In this forbidden chamber of a Temple
With this heart, I welcome you to my world
A world which has known no peace
In every little pieces of peace it lived
A world we are yet to build but already built
Inside our little minds and big hearts
Which has harboured many nations
That are yet to come in the future generation
And the generations to come
A poem by, S Kojo Frimpong

Feels So Wrong

Most at times she is happy with you
Until someone comes in
And show her a different
Meaning to happiness
I wonder if it's something we do wrong
That we feel too perfect to be true

They know we are the right ones
Yet they still prefer the wrong ones
It hurts them to watch us bleed
By their own claws they cut us open with
So they heartlessly cut us loose
To fall miserably like dried leaves
At the mercies of the harsh Harmattan
And Watch us bleed profusely as we suffocate
From the chokes of a broken heart
Only few strong men like myself
Can survive this period of tormenting memories

Letting go hurts, holding on kills
But what if letting go lands her
In the firm grips of Satan?
Those are her choices and choices
Must be treated with respect
That is the hall mark of gentleness
It is hard for me to trade her memory from my head
How much more clean her name
Inscribed accross my heart
Sometimes ladies throw away
The most perfect gentlemen
And fake happiness in empty homes

True love comes with a connection
A divine connection from God which is unbreakable
Even if we are worlds apart
The mere mention of my name will bring
Shivers to her spines and the thought
Of her will hit me like a ray of light
She feels all these but takes it as normal
But it isn't, God is speaking
Let love guide us back unto our lost ways
For that is where true happiness resides

THE HAUNTED

Out of the horror that met my eye,I fell unconscious.

I opened my eyes only to realise I was tied to an old dusty table with an apple in my mouth. I tried to make a movement,with my eyes closed,I struggled to break loose from the vines binding me to the table. I was almost loosened when I heard footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes quickly only to meet the glaring eyes of an old lady with eyes reddened with anger. I stared right into her eyes and saw death staring back at me.


 I had always talked of death but meeting death face to face at this tender age,was something unthought of by me. The old lady had a sharp knife in hand which was drenched with blood. I tried to scream forgetting about the apple in my mouth. After several unsuccessful attempts,I finally gave up. The only means of survival would be a miracle. Patiently waiting for the miracle, I noticed a door inside the room stood ajar. I managed to loosen the vines binding me without the old lady's knowledge. As, she kept on looking at what seemed to be a large pot on fire away from my attention,I had an idea. I removed the apple from my mouth and dashed for the door only for it to shut in my face, so fast that I almost run into it. As hard as I tried the door wouldn't budge. I made another move for the next door but only to be shut by the sharp edges of the knife. The mysterious old lady threw another knife at me. I was just on time to miss the sharp edges of the second knife. My heart skipped a beat as a child blood run through my veins, I froze with fright as my heart began to pound heavily. I was hoping for somebody to wake me up to end this nightmare. I went back till my back touched the walls of the old dusty abandoned building.


The old lady looked at me angrily,her face well noticed, it spoke of doom and terror threatening to kill me at any point in time. This time,I studied her face very well and was even more terrified. Her face was deformed. Her head was covered in a hood and her eyes were buried so deep in their sockets that for a second I thought she had no eyes at all. I was still hoping and praying that I will wake up from this nightmare but it only got worse with each passing second. I realised the seriousness of the situation at hand. As if I was brainwashed, I could hardly remember I came in with my friends until now. "What have you done with my friends you plain faced witch?" I shouted angrily with the last bit of courage I had in me. I thought I had asked a question and an answer in reply was legit but the question was ignored as if I uttered nothing at all. She only snapped her finger and from no where I was binned by a stronger vine, more thicker and stronger than the previous one I broke loose from.


According to my definition, myths are rumours spiced with lies and tragedies of horror scenes to scare people from going to a place. This definition remained so on my lips until now that I am trapped in this haunted mansion,held hostage to this crazy old witch whom I had watched murdered my friends in cold blood right under my nose. I watched as she tortured them till death. She skinned and fed on their flesh. Out of fear and shock, I couldn't endure to watch the horror scene so I passed out only to be revived as the last man standing. What baffled me is how I never remembered I came in with people until my final moment of death. That is how I call it because I certainly won't survive nor escape from the grips of this old powerful witch. It will only take a miracle


It was said that she was once good and kind witch but things turned out badly and she was banished. She was stoned on the streets by the very people she loved and cared for. She then took refuge in the woods where she built a glass house to attract people into her domain. It was also said that no one has ever made it out of the woods alive. So were some of the rumours circulating the place and many scary stories. I was even told she killed people and fed on their flesh the more she fed,the more younger she became . I never believed all those stories till I met her in the woods. I was attracted by the house of glass with my friends. She lured us with curiosity into her abode and I saw her tear my friends limb by limb. I quite remember her picture which hanged in the towns museum with the inscriptions boldly written on it the out cast. Well the image I saw didn't match the one that met my eye,but it was quite clear that in every rumour, there is an iota of truth.

THE HAUNTED

Break Me

My feet is on a journey but I am static
Where do you go when home
Is somewhere you cannot go?
I have no blood in my veins
But every time I breathe, I bleed
Where do you go when home
Is somewhere you have never known?
No good mother allows her son
To go out of home when evil spirits are hungry
Unless outside is safer than home.
Yet again, home is somewhere I have never had.
My head is bleeding
My soul is hurting
God the grand alchemist
Heal me like how you heal ghosts
And if you can’t
Break me and scatter my bones
To vultures.

The Sound Of Gas Explosion

Ghana is burning again
Her children, mourning in pain
And in no other place than the capital
The heart of the nation is on fire
Not to brighten our dark world
But burning on its own course
To flame lives and properties
Into it's pregnant belly once more
Haven't we fed fire with our blood
And sweat for too long?

Accra has made it to the news again
But what good does being in the front pages
Daily in the graphics do to us
When bad becomes the only word that convoys the news?
For how long ? will we allow
The world to mourn our loss
And mock us for our brains we sold
To buy greed and sell at cheaper prices


For how long? do we have to flood
The eyes of Ama Ghana all in the effort
Of quenching an avalanche of fire
Started by our own old hearts
Do we have to celebrate fire annually?
Our leaders should confirm finally
So we can start smoking near our cold hearts
To melt and form Hades on Earth
Maybe screams in the mid night air
Brings soothing satisfaction to your ears
Let the earth tremble from your toes
Or else we will all perish from this foe
That has tormented us for years


S Kojo Frimpong ®
©7th October,2017
Based on the atomic junction gas explosion inside Madina a suburb of the Greater Accra Region of Ghana.

Back Into A Burning House

I traded my gratitude for an empty promise
I allowed my heart
Back into a burning house
Where I asked for a piece of the honey cake baked on her lips
I begged for a touch of her sweetness
But her fate was like Lot
So I turned a pillar of salt
I need a deity or maybe the eye of Delphi
To have forseen what the future had to offer
For it was clear That my vision was blurred

An epitome of sweetness
Turned a pillar of salt
Her love was a bitter-sweat offer.
We danced with our tongues
And surveyed the world on our lips
Only to find my tongue soiled
With little drops of salt
I stared at the billion bubbles
Of boiling gases inside her eyes
And saw belligerents singing a reveille
Accompanied by a salvo

We used to be little seeds of romance
Blushing in the Savannah
We were like the waves moving to and fro
But now we are together but still apart
Like a body and a shadow
No matter how close you come
You will still be far enough
I can still remember how it happened
Like my arrival on earth from the womb
That harboured me
There was a steep hill and lots of rain
My heart skipped and all on board was lost
I fixed my broken heart but it fixed nothing
So I wreck it back to pieces any time
This day repeats on the calendar
And drink myself to sleep

In The Darkness

In the darkness
I hear screams of
A man whose house is on fire.

A snake with two heads
Two tails
Is leading this kingdom

Hypocracy is nothing new
To the chamelion
And bravery is no stranger to the Lion

When the bush is on fire
Speed can never be a threat
To the Cheetah

In this river of sand,
Swimming is of no use to the fish
And cowardice is no shame

To the lion fleeing from
The hunter loaded
With guns and bullets

The jungle has become
A kingdom without a king
And the lion,

A king without a kingdom
Sits the crown on his knees
Leaving his head naked

When hell unleashed
Homes broke
And ashes become dust

We never dreamt of heaven
Here was a perfect Paradise
Until hell unleashed