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Dear Kwame Red (3)

Sun, 22 Feb 2015 Source: Okoampa-Ahoofe, Kwame

By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.

"What Next, Kwame?"

that was all

Uncle Bankole wrote...

and you fired him,

kicked his butts

so hard

he landed

on his pate

and broke

his neck;

but you were not

appeased...

Kwame Red,

"What Next?"

what next,

after you have

stamped your image

and name

on our schools

and shoes

and offices

and food packages

and drinking cups

and postal stamps

and our streets

and our clothes?....

Now you had

your head

in our wallets

and pockets

and church

collection boxes...

and when Uncle Tim

called you up

on your lunacy

for what it

truly was,

you fired him

on the spot;

he who never errs

and never dies,

you were not

appeased,

Kwame Red,

you were not

appeased till

you scissor-

kicked him

in the groin,

to the curb and

off the land,

and then you

mounted your soap-box,

and qualmless

and shameless

and unperturbed,

you started screaming

your screechy screams

about African Unity,

and then

had him cuffed

and shoved down

the beach,

prime game

for the sharks...

scissor-kicked him

to the curb,

and then

still unappeased,

you held

Alhaji Bamba

by the crotch,

slammed him

onto a Kano-bound

plane

and had bleeding

in his nose

and mouth...

"United, We Stand;

Divided, We Fall,"

and then he began

to fall

and fall

and fall

into a fiery

hell-hole,

'cause he couldn't

show you

the paper

marking up

his date of birth;

now we all know

the date of his death...

Man of Millennium,

you didn't know

your own day

and date

of birth,

Man of Millennium,

you cannot flee

your own cant

and mischief,

Man of Millennium,

you only know

your date

of death,

Man of Millennium,

you can

only fool

the blameless

and blind;

Kwame Red,

you cannot flee

your own

sun-cast

shade...

2/17/15

Columnist: Okoampa-Ahoofe, Kwame