By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.
Uncle Atukwei,
you scream
your rhythmic
and mellific
screams
to the utter
delight
of your kinsfolk
and townsfolk
and countryfolk...
to the utter delight
of us schoolboys
and girls,
to the annoyance
of the cold-calculating
and jealous
agbadza boys...
Uncle Atukwei,
scream your
rhythmic screams
and light up
our sorrowful souls,
a poetic scream
is no breach
of public space
and peace;
synch
your sacred
screams
to the tinkling
thumps of
the fontomfrom,
a gong-gong bong
is no breach
of custom
and creed...
in your
"screaming hysteria"
lies the
umbilical cord
of my
budding flair
for the Word -
Uncle Atukwei,
let them curl
your curly screams
into curlicues...
scream your
atumpan screams
into the logos
of kpanlogo;
agbadza is no peer
of impintin pings -
Uncle Atukwei,
keep screaming
your hysterical
screams
above the snotty
snorts of
Trokosi Thugs,
a hysterical scream
only heralds
the glorious birth
of a king,
Uncle Atukwei,
scream
scream,
keep screaming
your sacred
screams
in the courtyard
of our conscience...
10/5/13
