Tuesday, July 21, 2015

In the Event of My Demise

When my heart throbs to a halt
I hope to have shouldered a cross worth a cause
Lived and left an imprint undimmed by another man’s course

When I’m gone
Like Gandhi will find peace in my grave
To have put myself under the tutelage of words
Learned to string them at deep dawn
When the lazy bone basks in his wet dreams

When I am gone
Wish some things never remain the same:
The learned heads who should have known better
But fiddle the strings of tribalism and
Put on a spectacle of myopia in the name of partisanship
Tightening the nation’s purse-strings to build lasting hegemonies

When I expire
Let them know
I was also vexed with the doyens
Who had ‘their heads abroad and anus at home’
Leaving no gardens for the budding bards to grow

Upon my exit
I will be glad to have left no dreams deferred                                                            
Saw the world as a page where every man must drop an ink
And gallantly defended Poetry as a cult

Even if it never paid me much 

Copyright (c) Adjei Agyei-Baah, 21/7/15

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