Cruel Cruel World

You know it’s a cruel cruel word when,
The waakye seller tells you “krakye asa wai.” when it finally gets to your turn in the queue after the long hustle. Charle you get the kanzo sef a you go chop.
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
Your senior decides at inspection time to don your freshly (and nicely) pressed uniform while leaving you his creased (not to mention and sweaty) one. You’re going to have “malaria” all day long.
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
You have a low battery and ECG decides to take their light. Ebe like you just for bed.
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
The bae you’ve been targeting all along gets taken by your roomie and they are chilling with your laptop and speakers. Boys never be family.
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
Kwashe boys strip you of your “daddy thank you” phone hours after showing it off to your boys boys. Whatever will daddy say?
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
you’re late to leave the annex. Your day is going to fall apart like dominoes. It would end with you with a cutlass on a green field.
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
After keeping your hair nicely scarfed till vacation and the senior house mistress decides to carry out a “depunking” exercise one week before. Let the tears flow.
You know it’s a cruel cruel world when,
The bae you’re ronning decides to bring her besties to the “date” you agreed to take her. God have mercy on your wallet wai.
Even though you know it’s a cruel cruel world,
That is the grim beauty of it.
So live long, kiss hard, gym more, laugh loud at the silliest moments,
After all,
It’s a cruel cruel world.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

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Liar

I see you,
Glittering like a peacock in moonlight,
With your trinkets
Strutting like a cockerel.
A grimace dances on your face,
A mask of color,
And your voice twittering
Scratchy; a broken record
A vain attempt to hide the husk in it.
You must be brave,
For the streetlight betrays you,
Even as you flaunt your stolen wares.
I shake my head and move on.
Surely i must be better than a flamboyant hooker,
I do no wrong,
Certainly don’t parade my foolishness under a streetlight
For all to see,
Even at midnight.
Then the east wind blows and lifts up my jacket
To reveal the bottle hidden within.
At that moment I pause and wonder,
Who am i kidding,
The world skews before me,
And i tap dance just to cross the street.
For the blaring lights to meet.
I live in my bottle,
One swig
And the secrets of the world are unveiled.
They say drunk men tell no tales,
If so then I am the biggest liar of them all.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

Memoir of a geek

I woke up today,
And stretched for my wand.
Needless to say it was not in its usual spot.
I’m sure mama must have stacked it away as I slept.
I dread school.
Even my sitting mate doesn’t talk to me,
Except to say “pass me the book.”
Break time is always rough,
However i found a spot in the crook of a tree root.
My very own hobbit hole.
Someone took my glasses away as I slept during free period.
At least i can still read Harry Potter.
My crush waved to me after school today,
I was lost for words literally.
She shook her head and smiled.
I look forward to doing maths homework tonight,
I can pretend I am breaking codes for the intergalactic government.
I look forward to the new X men movie.
I hope Wolverine doesn’t kiss anyone this time.
Lights out and good night,
But in my head the war is just beginning.
I hope the elves beat the trolls and send them back,
And Thor shuts Loki under the roots of the world tree where the serpent of Midgard forever coils.
Tomorrow is going to be a Superman day.
See you!

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

Excerpt From “Chop Bar Date”

At the doorway I bumped into a familiar mass of music. As the familiar tenor voice intoned “Massa you no know your left from your right?” I exclaimed. “Kojo!” he grinned. (I assumed he did. The house was so dark compared to the flickering lights outside.”) “Kpako!” he replied. “Whassup?” “Abi you know. We just de pass through.” I nodded to him and greeted his companion Baabsy (Corrupted from Baaba.) she smiled and I invited her to dance with me. Again I thank the good Lord for briefs. Some skinny girls just do not feel skinny.
The party went on and on and I kept dancing, with girls I didn’t know and girls I knew. I made my way towards the drinks table for a shot of Irish Cream (my last intake for the night because my vision was beginning to swim.) cup in hand I weaved through to the boys where they were doing their own thing. Presently a photo-shoot was taking place and I joined the fray. I then did my version of the “alkayida”. (I suck at dancing. Really.) Among the laughter and loud music and steam (my glasses kept misting over.) I turned around and coming through the gate was her. Her being a mystery lady in a mask. 5”8, honeyed skin, a mass of curly hair on her shoulders and a black leather outfit reminiscent of catwoman. Fast forward to the scarlet lipstick and my alcohol damped senses knew I had to do something. She came with her gang. (Why do fine girls always move in packs? I mean why?) I waited for my chance, staying within the crowd but keep tabs on her. Every other guy was on high alert and in hunting mode. They kept going and kept getting bounced. I am not exactly the boldest guy on the planet, but when the alcohol hits my bloodstream no girl is safe. On this I sidled up to her and whispered in her ear. “Before you bounce me, just know I’ve been keeping tabs on you since you arrived.” She chuckled. “Funny guy.” “I know right? May be I’ve had a little too much to drink.” I replied. She laughed again, in a voice a tad rich. “So.” I continued. “How many cows do I have to kill before getting a dance with you?” her eyes glittered and she smiled. “None.”