human beings, strange creatures
I must say, puppets of the same play,
actors on the same stage of life
litten with the props of revelation

human beings, strange creatures,
funny entities of existence, I must say,
he is the one with the blood on his hands,
but he points at one baptised by innocence,
honesty is her middle name
the sad story is, she may get killed for nothing
while the murderer lingers behind the blindness
of the spotlight

human beings, a perculiar generation
she will have more nights of ecstacy,
the F train shall roar and it sails sounds of pleasure
when she perfectly knows there are hunters
secretly blessed with AIDS.
he will drink more and more,
forgetting that his liver shall be literally destroyed,
do they know what they want?

human beings, a comical race,
he says he wants this, when it comes
he wants that
Man! and they put US in cages to entertain them,
they are more befitting placards of jocular pleasure

human beings, hypocrites to the highest degree,
she will cling to her rosary during benediction at day
the holy spirit descends on her,
many descent men see her as wife material
but…
at night more than seven men have a go at her
awakening her tantrums of ecstasy instead of pain
hypocrites!
friends are enemies and enemies are friends,
what is all this nonsense?
he doesn’t want to tell you that your shirt
doesn’t look good because you’ll get hurt,
instead he’ll allow you to get humiliated in public.
she thinks she’s your enemy, condemning your
every move, when she’s actually correcting your mistakes

Man! they shall throw a bone for
only emptiness to chew upon, for surely
there are no fools these days!

human beings, chameleons in the light of time,
when in the heat of hell your friends all look
like demons in the sweetness of heavens they
all change to angels,
they can be friends for a long time, but just
a spit of verbal venom from a third person
and they become enemies?
what mental calamity!

human beings, creatures full of mistakes!
they forget that God is not mocked,
for what a man reaps, surely he must sow
in the silent season of time.
                                                             By Kakraba Afful