Lenri Peters, your shoes of loneliness are too heavy on my feet. They hurt the heart of my feet and the soul of my toes
Awoonor, you were right, just as Kwesi Brew. The gullible sea has eaten every bit of our land. Our beautiful land is no more.
Amu the mighty horn, greatest political soothsayer of our time, please come for your stone. Your prophecies are unfolding page by page in Efo Mawugbe’s Goviefe.
Theo Luzuka, I saw the motoka you talked about years ago. It is still parked at the riches end. I can still see the undergraduate thighs but with postgraduate breasts this time.
The beautiful ones are truly not yet born so the ugly ones continue to hold conferences on the beaches of Korle Gonno.
I await to hear the birth cries of the beautiful ones emanate from Korle Bu. And may Komfo Anokye’s resurrected charms that make babies vanish from our hospitals be repressed.
Osagyefo, you were wrong. We do not have our own affairs, to even think of self-managing. The land you bequeathed to us is speedily eroding like the front parts of your head. Achebe’s green Land is in explosive flame.
My people, we are not far from home. The short way home will however be very long if we miss the dirty patches that lead to the giant gates of our paradise. May Twedeampon himself guide us home. This is my song, this is my prayer.