In the Event of My Demise

When my heart throbs to a halt

I hope to have shouldered a cross worth a cause

Lived and left an imprint undimmed by another man’s course

When I’m gone

Like Gandhi will find peace in my grave

To have put myself under the tutelage of words

Learned to string them at deep dawn

When the lazy bone basks in his wet dreams

When I am gone

Wish some things never remain the same:

The learned heads who should have known better

But fiddle the strings of tribalism and

Put on a spectacle of myopia in the name of partisanship

Tightening the nation’s purse-strings to build lasting hegemonies

When I expire

Let them know

I was also vexed with the doyens

Who had ‘their heads abroad and anus at home’

Leaving no gardens for the budding bards to grow

Upon my exit

I will be glad to have left no dreams deferred                                                            

Saw the world as a page where every man must drop an ink

And gallantly defended Poetry as a cult

Even if it never paid me much 

Copyright (c) Adjei Agyei-Baah, 21/7/15