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June | 2015 | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/06
An African, cane moulded mind. A pretty common hawker tale. June 3, 2015. The sun touches me first on its task of global illumination. It lavishly pours light on my body but the darkness of my mood still reigns. For the third time this week I slept on the balcony of Jesus Saves Enterprise. Reason? Because I did not bring the standard amount after selling. I was ironically welcomed with a sound beating, the name ‘thief’, and a kick out. A literal one. Like she ever smiles. In an effort to hide my. Sympath...
braincane.wordpress.com
Trotro | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/04/28/trotro
An African, cane moulded mind. April 28, 2015. It’s as hot as. The occasional gusts of wind only fanned the fires that burned within us. My brain sef dey sweat. For her heart was strained and worked. Her hands had long lost their beauty from the fire they tended. I see her wake up at dawn to pray for her son. With the spiritual umbilical chord, she fed her son with blessings and strength. My father, after Kofi left me to join with you. You know James is my only reason to live. It’s as hot as. Leave a Rep...
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Fantasy | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/fantasy/comment-page-1
An African, cane moulded mind. May 6, 2015. I could take whiffs of your smelly hair. It’s the rainy season and you got braids on. I could eat a full plate of your cooking. Even if your jollof tastes Nigerian. I could look into your eyes. Watching how the soul tie makes you more beautiful. I could inhale your morning breath. Knowing that’s exactly how mine smells. Since our lips are all that we had last night. And then we could kiss through that stank breath. Just to show how deep this is. We all have pain.
braincane.wordpress.com
August | 2015 | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/08
An African, cane moulded mind. August 14, 2015. Inspired by – These Hands – http:/ wp.me/p4l6Bi-4q. These hands are my heritage. My past lives and my future. Calloused by the very amniotic fluid that made me. Forming prints that identify me with the struggle. Prints as indelible as those the feet of my fathers left in time. The very fluid that prepared my mother, and hers, and hers and hers…. The very fluid that prepared the Kunta Kintes, the Mansa Musas and Jesus. You see, these hands have me prepared.
braincane.wordpress.com
A pretty common hawker tale. | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/06/03/a-pretty-common-hawker-tale
An African, cane moulded mind. A pretty common hawker tale. June 3, 2015. The sun touches me first on its task of global illumination. It lavishly pours light on my body but the darkness of my mood still reigns. For the third time this week I slept on the balcony of Jesus Saves Enterprise. Reason? Because I did not bring the standard amount after selling. I was ironically welcomed with a sound beating, the name ‘thief’, and a kick out. A literal one. Like she ever smiles. In an effort to hide my. Sympath...
braincane.wordpress.com
Comfort as Yourself | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/06/02/comfort-as-yourself
An African, cane moulded mind. June 2, 2015. Sometimes, it takes years to learn how to be comfortable in your own skin for you to realise that your skin’s texture is not based on the presence of other people; that it is in fact dependent on none other than your own mind. Solitude is an art, improperly cultivated in a world that is increasingly extroverted. Sometimes, comfort in your own skin is when you are. If it weren’t for weed I would be happy. A pretty common hawker tale. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.
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Fantasy | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/fantasy
An African, cane moulded mind. May 6, 2015. I could take whiffs of your smelly hair. It’s the rainy season and you got braids on. I could eat a full plate of your cooking. Even if your jollof tastes Nigerian. I could look into your eyes. Watching how the soul tie makes you more beautiful. I could inhale your morning breath. Knowing that’s exactly how mine smells. Since our lips are all that we had last night. And then we could kiss through that stank breath. Just to show how deep this is. We all have pain.
braincane.wordpress.com
Fake deeps and light off | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/05/11/fake-deeps-3
An African, cane moulded mind. Fake deeps and light off. May 11, 2015. In the darkness of the night my mind is set ablaze. With the strength of my mind my body is subjugated. My minds eye is blinded. My ears drums are silent. But my eyes lids stay open. Like how lids are always open when soup brews. My mind tonight is the soup. It boils in the calmness of the night. It boils in the stillness of my body. My mind forms shapes in the darkness. My body is meek. It’s a cool night. The lights went out at 6.
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Calculate | braincane
https://braincane.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/calculate
An African, cane moulded mind. July 24, 2015. Did we ever think. That we took that left turn. Got lost just to meet that man. That you got a wrong number. Just to meet that special one? Okay that’s corny. Did we ever think. That our parents and their parents and the infinite line of parents. Were born at specific times in specific places. Took decisions to go to specific areas. To meet their spouses. To give particular genes and combinations. And all those generations come together. Cracked out of its egg.
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braincane | Page 2
https://braincane.wordpress.com/page/2
An African, cane moulded mind. July 20, 2015. I wish I was more buff. I wish for balls of steel. I wish i had more money. Then mum could live on the hills. I wish I was invisible. Rob a bank or two. Walk in the changing rooms. And stare at all the things in twos. I wish breasts didn’t have nipples. And nipples were in their palms. Then with as little as a handshake. I wish life was fine. I wish she was mine. I wish that we’d embroid hugs and kisses. In the very fabric of time. Like sarkodie always chimes.
