Familiar with a Past Life

The ringing of the church bells brings to life a freshness that only comes in fall. Ringing in the noon hour while the park is full of people wearing mask. Single people all afraid to be in a crowd. No more gathering at the Station of the Cross. The tower doors of the Old Catholic church were closed. The bell continues to ring as the noon hour passes us by. It remains empty a shadow amongst those no longer sitting in the pews. Alone the priest stands at the altar praying while reciting the last rites of life that has died among the congregation. No one comes any longer as the noon bells summons them. There is an atmosphere of delusion a cloud of doubt for the salvation of the perish. No passing of communion nor drinking from the chalice the remains empty.

No more confession of sins as the confessional before the ringing of the bells. Empty except the priest listing to his own confession. He only hears the bells ringing at noon. No one listens but God to his prayers. The murals have all been painted over many years ago. No more statues of the Holy Family. One a few candles now burn in an empty church. Dust collects on the stain glass windows where the sun would bring to life the liveliness of colors. No one remember a vibrant church which had died long before the virus.  

Perhaps it was not the virus but rather a sense of loss of the congregation. The burning of candles on the altar and the votive candles which gave solace. One member sitting in front of the rows of candles burning. One person looking at the Stations of the Cross-seeking redemption for his sins after his confession. It all was removed decades ago. It was just a matter of time that as each reminder of the Holy Family was slowly stripped down that it was inevitable that no one would remain in the pews.

The wave of television cameras streaming the mass to a congregation on a Sunday morning. Televangelist asking for donations proclaiming salvation for those with money. There is no hint of Jesus and his teachings as the preachers now only ask for contributions. It all changed when the church services went live. Before the people was isolated from God in the Maga Churches. It is a show a form of entertainment. Now it too has felt the impact of those no longer able to attend their Maga Churches.

It all changed when the candles stopped burning. It stopped when no longer when the church became a show. Individualism was going by way of a network broadcast. The bell still rings as the one priest stands alone. A time when the priest would visit the sick and shut ins before the healing via way of the television. Salvation was personal. A relationship with God was personal and the prayers was said after the confession at the altar. Before the camera rolled and the bell rung at noon salvation was free. 

Meat Census

Please fill out and return with your census form:

Do you eat turkey legs when drinking frozen vodka?
Does the ribald smell of barbecue make you drift?
Can you brush your hair glossy after beef tacos?
How many Italians does it take to slice prosciutto?
Why do babies cry when served kosher meat?
What is the IQ of a genetically modified broiler?
How often does your wet market serve bats à la carte?
Why wasn’t swine flu called North American flu?
Will steaming factory eggs cause seizures in small animals?
How many dairy farmers built ponds from unsold milk?
What is the average underwage for industrial meatpackers?
How many dead food inspectors does it take to issue masks?
What kind of raw meat can bring you to your knees?
Do you like chicken-flavored beer? Coffee? Underpants?

Thank you. The U.S. government values
your input and is working

hard to make sure
your safety is
a priority.

Cleanup Crew

The doctor is here
on your screen, in your hand
the Fed team tele-tells you
Lysol spray and UV rays
a fat lemon to suckle
with your malaria pills.

Suicide seems less risky
a mass poison prescription
when the briefings end
after violent hours, dumb
and dumber licking metal
hoar-frosted with lies.

And how must they sleep
you ask yourself at two, four
in the morning, ammonia
smelling salts, bleach inhaler
and what’s another number
atop a stack of creative data
you hear them recount, rephrase
in voices that rise and fall

like curves on a graph
in someone else’s nightmare.

Tracks

Train tracks run the length
of this country
in black stitches
reminding us
land wounds
can be ripped open
again and again.

Tracks mark all flesh
where the surgeon’s knife
left the cold body
on the steel table
white on red on white
in black and white
iced blue.

Follow the tracks
the bent grass
broken twigs
animal scents
back
to the foxhole
where you think
you are safe
from all the other
tracks.

Wrong.

Article Title – AT: A Month Away – AMA (Takoradi Travel Journal -TTJ)

This article unfolds some of the happenings whilst away from the perching-point at the Estate Top area of Kasoa, Central Region of Ghana in West Africa.

Indeed, the Title tells it all A Month Away – AMA as its acronym has nothing to do with Accra Metropolitan Assembly not even the common Saturday-born female Ghanaian daughter named as Ama.

On 10th June, 2020 – It’s around 4am, thus a day before the annual birthday remembrance period being on 11th June. Of course as a matter of fact, it’s one particular urgent phone-call which ignited such an unplanned journey to embark on to the West-Side’s city of Takoradi where I was born and bred in the Western Region locale of Ghana. Well, information or message on the other side of the phone indicated that 2018 – National Spoken – Word Award -NSWA won in the category International Poet Of The Year – 2018 arrived so long a time and they intended to send it back to the United States of America – USA. Thus, by so doing I’ll lose the grab and pleasantry of its winning euphoria. Without mincing words, this really brought about the move to embark on a critical trip to Takoradi at the South-Western part of Ghana in West Africa.

Just by the way, for the purpose of those who did not know the location or where-about in terms of locale, Takoradi. Known in short as Ta’adi . Then, I hereby bring to you the city situated at the heart of Western Region in Ghana. Its a sister city with common features and other characteristics with Sekondi in the same region. Having awaked around 3am, the ears felt the sound of dawn-time cock-crowing by the hood cocks. Well, seemingly noisy but it’s worthwhile as time-awakening machine to ensure rapid move. Indeed, I later headed to the roadside to catch commercial mini-bus which departed from Kasoa overhead area. We set off at 5:40am but due to traffic situation on the road coupled with passenger-related purposes there’s stoppages which delayed us in reaching the destination of Takoradi at 9am, fo which some passengers alighted at different places on the way. Upon arrival, I straightway went to the Taxi rank and boarded a Taxi-cab en-route the main Harbour Post Office in the city of Takoradi, where after several paper procedures and processes. Pleansantly, the long-awaited parcel which contained the Trophy-Award was blissfully given by the postal personnel in charge.

Well upon opening, the inscription on the gold plated part of the trophy was “National Spoken-Word Awards – NSWA, International Poet Of The Year – 2018 – Ike Boat, Ghana – West Africa – Votes: 776”.

Obviously, there’s some series of ‘ups and downs’, ‘to and fro’, ‘out and about’ in this metropolitan city of Takoradi. Unknown to many virtual and actual friends prior to this Westside trip. I had a harsh and terrible malaria attack which nearly took me to the grave. But God indeed rescued me, as I was rushed to the Holy Family Hospital at Kasoa, off the Nyanyano road where I was put on three different kinds of life-saving drips. A Testimony of His healing! It’s quite professional in the caring hands of Nurse Miss Victoria Swanson as she took me through series of healthy counselling sessions after my discharged. Of course, back in the city of birth there’s opportune moment as I had several invitations to be on some notable radio stations. For instance at the Twin-City 94.7 / 88.1  FM, specifically on the Super Sunday Show – SSS’ It’s rather nice surprise visitation to the popular host Sir Philip K. Dadson with several years of experience in the broadcasting industry of the Western Region, Ghana. The following Monday morning, I had another incredible opportunity to be hosted by Sir Philip K Ampofo also one of the influential broadcasters in the Western Region, thus courtesy Radio Maxx 105.1 FM  being the first ever radio station I spoke on-air during live in-studio broadcast about Fifteen (15) years ago. In fact, the kind of positive connection with the leadership and management of the Orange Broadcasting Brand – OBB remains unforgettable with deep journalistic know-how and exposure. Special sincere gratitude from my grateful heart to Mr. Maxwell Okyere Ahenkorah (CEO/Owner – Radio Maxx 105.1 FM) and Prime Programs Manager Rev. Alexander Nii Sackey , popularly known on the airwaves as Mantse being charge of Maxx Morning Bells – MMB as Host of such dawn-devotional program which I’ve had opportunity to witness and contribute to it broadcasting studio transmission, so many times whilst residing in Takoradi. It’s last memorable period in studio with Sir Gabi Ampiah, Producer.

Factually, whist in the city of Takoradi, behind closed doors I lodged at Mexico Hotel, off Mexico Road and close to John Sarbah road, where my primary Alma-Mater Bishop Essuah Memorial Complex School is closely located at the premises of Star of the Sea Cathedral. It’s time of deep in-door meditational writing as well as monitoring some of the newly established radio stations in the city of Takoradi, some of which include Connect FM, Gold FM, Big FM etc. The thought to commence on what I called Vlog 233 become crystal clear as I did phone video recording of the Alma- Mater, and how CoViD-19 has affected school boys and girls in their academic studies. Thus, one day whilst on a visit to I-CODE Hub across the road in the magnificent newly-built Takoradi Library in the city. It’s followed with another phone video recording of the Takoradi Mall, KFC – Kenturky Fried Chicken sole branch in  Takoradi, then afterwards some days later House -Top caption of the gigantic Market Circle and lastly the Beach and its related aquatic environs as well as admiring-visitors. Fortunately, all videoing as in Vlogging help became possible by some Good Samaritan strangers along the way when ideas popped up. Side by side, I was entangled in the daily medication routines coupled with dawn time road-side and park moment prayers as well as meditations. Factually, there’s program with regard to event performance made possible by the I-CODE Management.

Needless to state, its uneasy coping with the financial ordeal at the Mexico Hotel as a hospitality place, hence subsequently I was dislodged from there due to unpaid bills accumulation. One of the unfortunate circumstances which propelled me to stay at the Mexico Hotel was largely by virtue of congestion and flood condition which affected the parental abode of Amanful West suburb, the hood of up-bringing in the city of Takoradi. At a point, it’s like biblical view of the Son of man, with no place to lay his head, besides moments of being stranded and on tenterhooks. However, I was supported and hosted a bit in-room by the former Assemblyman of Amanful West, popularly known as 1k whom I also assisted during his tenure of Assemblyman-ship in the Amanful West Electoral Area as online PA whilst in this suburban-hood of Takoradi, Western Region of Ghana. Without being ungrateful but with a heart full of gratitude and much appreciation, I was fed by an old woman, who’s also my personal life counselor almost on daily basis, realistically in the personality of Madam Agnes Barnie. #MamaAB

Beloved Reader, this Article-Blog Arti-Blog remains incomplete without stating a special virtual and actual thankful shout-out to the following supportive and caring personalities who gave a helping hands of generous gesture as fund to uplift me when I was terribly hard-up and really down in Takoradi. Precisely, it’s worthwhile to remedy the conditions in relation to medication and feeding whilst I was away in Takoradi. Please in no particular Order – Special Thanks and God’s Blessing to the following VIPs in various respective countries of the world:

Minstrel Julie Estrada and Minister Andy Estrada, Founder + Co-Founder + Treasurer of Building Foundations 1×1 – USA, Madam Cristina Deptula – Owner + Prime Editor + Manageress of Synchronized Chaos Magazine – USA – www.synchchaos.com , Minister Titus Glenn, Pastor+ Founder – Titus Glenn Ministries – USA, Sir Jerry Amponsah – Media Personality and Political Analyst – USA, Sir Sonny Achiba – Soni-Achi Productions – SAP – UK, Sir Abdul Shabbaz – Iconic Music & Poetry Fellow & Veteran US–Army Personnel – USA, Sir Stephen Mills – Actor + Director– T aadi Stars Productions, Takoradi , Sir Prince Bonney – Founder & CEO I-CODE Hub, Takoradi , Sir Frank Nii Okanta Ankrah – Origintor + Founder + CEO of Clicx-Ads #CryptoAdvertisingNetwork – www.clicxads.com and not forgetting the Founder + President +  CEO Sir De’Andre Hawthorne #BlaqIce of P.O.E.T – People Of Extraordinary Talent – www.iampoet.org – USA, being the Ambassador + Representative + Promoter in Ghana and Africa in general.

 Kindly, PM or Email me via: ikeboatofficial@gmail.com  to remind in case you supported me during A Month Away – AMA with respect to this Anti-Blog centered on the trip to Takoradi, Western Region of Ghana. Surely Editing can be done to feature your name and organization respectively. Thank You Very Much.

Going to Bed
 
Best not even raise the question
how long it will take for the halo
of the Late Night Show you’ve just clicked off
to fade from the blind of your
closed eyes. You keep seeing things
in the spectrum of the language in your mind
now and then surfacing to the present
like a swimmer for air, to pull off your tee-shirt
because even with the fan blowing
you feel too warm. And to find
the low rumble of the plane taking off odd
at this hour, perhaps with next-day
cargo. Driving down a country road
in Oklahoma once you pulled over to take
a leak and far away from the city’s lights
looked up to marvel at the stars in thick
clusters, as probably we would look
to heaven if we had fire in our DNA
like lightning bugs, an idea that changes
positions to find comfort with the body
lying here in its nearly nightly rehearsal
of death, which would similarly wonder
where we are headed, were it not that we are
already mercifully caught up in going there.
 
  
You Only Live Once
 
“but if you do it right, once is enough,”
said Mae West to the tall man, looking up,
 
her hand poised on the ample curve of her dress’s
hip, which in the day was thought to be sexy.
 
“You know,” she said to him, “I lost my reputation
and I never found it.”
 
With a little wiggle, she went on, “Hey
you handsome devil you, just how tall are you?”
 
The moment grew very gentle between them,
each grinning, his cheek a little red
 
suggesting a rural upbringing. “Why, mam,”
he said, “all of six foot six inches.”
 
“Goodness,” she breathed, wiggling again.
“You know,” he said, “it’s not easy for a man
 
over six foot, needing to bend at nearly
every door frame.” Simmering
 
the saucy dame raised a brow. She said to him,
“It’s not the feet that interest me. It’s those inches.”
 
 
 
Fire
 
It’s burning down the house from a boy’s wish
to be a hero when he grows up, calling
his body, breath by breath, forth, in an ash
nightmare of itself, with the walls falling
in sparks and cinder around him, each step
against his will—summonsed by elusive
voices of trapped souls crying for help.
It sears and blisters straight through his protective
gear… His face is that dazed. He’s in the store
I’m shopping in. And that must be his wife
beside him, her eyes as miffed, maybe more
to heart about the argument they’re having.
That’s love. It stinks. Mere misreads gone all life
or death. So burnt up nothing seems worth saving.
 
  
Mightier
 
1940, the 22nd of June—
the French have signed an armistice with Hitler.
Churchill with Great Britain standing alone
this Saturday at breakfast in the Chilterns—
clouding with gloom. It’s such an awful scene
daughter Mary dashes for her bedroom.
With equal resolve, the Missus, Clementine,
hearing the tea cups rattle with a slam
inside the kitchen—does an about-face
for her boudoir. There from a bureau drawer
she seizes sheets of floral trim stationary.
We’re your family, despite this ugly war…
grooved with emphasis from her fountain pen,
the message bound for shreds into a bin.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

International Nature Writing Literary Contest 2020-2021
 
Nature is our mother. It is our baby crib to where we return every time we feel we need comfort and renewed hope. Hope is that feeling that comes from glimpses into a peaceful, happy and green future and present.

A tree within the garden casts a shadow that protects us from our stellar parent: the Sun.
The Sun is also the source of our energy, he is also the source of our poetry; and poetry, maybe just another part of the natural community.

Today, Covid-19 make us feel like prey, having to think in a new way inside a world built by mother nature. To face this reality, hope is needed more than ever and we will move forward, but not ignore this new “map of life” and new mindset.

Our Nature Writing Contest for 2020/2021 is a new opportunity that we, as organizers, created to reach the rest of the world. Every Contest is a challenge for the authors who participate. This year we prepare new categories to which people are invited to submit work: Nature and Love; Nature and Ecology; Nature and Energy; Nature and Friendship; Nature and Gardens; Nature and Cinema; Nature and Music and Nature and Family. Family is our fundamental asset during these pandemic times.

This year we would like to share with you some inspirational photos and “horizons” and we kindly invite all authors to visit the following places online:

https://www.lisbonlux.com/green-lisbon-10-beautiful-parks
https://www.proflowers.com/15-best-botanical-gardens-california
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_botanical_gardens_in_Canada
 
https://www.algarvefun.com/algarve-tips/top-beaches-algarve/
https://www.coastalliving.com/travel/california/best-beaches-california
 
https://www.worldwildlife.org/places/amazon
https://www.gorongosa.org/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peneda-Gerês_National_Park
 
Additionally, we invite all authors to honor one cinema director of their choice in their piece and to write about that director’s view of nature. For example, Woody Allen portrays various aspects of nature – human nature.

You are free to criticize the cinema director’s work in your piece. For example, with Woody Allen, is there actually something called ‘human nature’ that exists and is worth describing in film?  

Submissions for the contest open Thursday October 15th. 
 
Rules for the Nature Writing Contest: 

1. Participation in this contest is free.
2. Any person from any country can participate as long as they submit work written in English.
3. Each participant can submit a poem of any length and a short story with a maximum of 3000 words. 
4. The works must be sent by e-mail to blogsnat@gmail.com along with the author’s name, country, and email address. The subject of the email should be "International Literary Contest 'Nature - 2018-2019'". Single spaced, 12-point Calibri font, work pasted in the body of the email.
5. The participating authors agree to receive e-mail in the future that advertise future literary initiatives.
6. Award-winning finalists are entitled to a digital certificate.
7. All the selected poems will be published in an anthology, which will be available in PDF format for sale for 2.5 € (over PayPal). Award-winning authors are entitled to a free copy.
8. Author rights: authors have their rights over the works published, in order to publish as they want in any other place. The organization of the contest retain total rights over the published works in the context of the Anthology of the Contest or any other anthology or collection of short stories they want to publish in the future or online in the websites of the organizers.
9. Deadline for participation: April 15, 2021
10. Pre-finalists will be announced on 10 May.
11. The final results will be announced on June 28 at http://talesforlove.blogs.sapo.pt and, when possible, at https://synchchaos.com/.
12. The first prize winner of each category will be entitled to a prize: an original work of art (an A4 painting) sent by mail.
 
We thank you your participation in this literary adventure.
Please feel free to contact us if you have any questions.

If you need help with your English or writing skills for your content submission this year we have special external writing help by Shmavon Azatian.
Contact: shazzai@yahoo.com
 
Adjudicators
 
Organizers
 
Synchronized Chaos (California – USA)
https://synchchaos.com/
 
Rui M. at Tales for Love (Lisbon – Portugal)
http://talesforlove.blogs.sapo.pt/
contact: ruiprcar@gmail.com
 
Word Poetry (Canada)
http://worldpoetry.ca/
 
Inspiring Photography
 
We thank you your participation in this Literary Adventure.
Please feel free to contact us if you have any question.
 
 
 
 

Gone Are The Days

Gone are the days,

When I never knew what writing pays.

Because, it’s taught solely in the classroom,

With many pupils like the broom.

Gone are the days,

When happiness brought about gays.

Even though some have different expression,

Like one’s view becomes impression.

Gone are the days,

When there’s many rail-ways.

This made traveling alternatively easy and fast,

To some, all are things of the past.

Gone are the days,

When barter became the terminology as some says.

Now, money and currency are used in the daily economy,

This is based on the system and not vasectomy.

Gone are the days,

When I’d no cap nor hat to walk under the sun rays.

Due to careless and reckless life of the hood,

Even when it’s possible to change the mood.

Bed Bugs Story

Bed bugs story,

It makes me feel so sorry.

How they’ve invaded the rooms,

As if there’re no sweeping brooms.

Some have hidden under the soften chairs,

This needs some sort of repairs.

They do their mischief in the middle of night,

When we’ve slept so tight and dreaming under the light.

It a wonder, how they befriend the skin,

And pierce hard like the pinch of a pin.

Bed bugs story,

It makes many feel the worry.

How their blood stains stink,

So terrible red, not pink like the colour of ink.

Of course, some are smaller others bigger,

They’re equal to the gold digger.

One can wear the cloth and feel their damage,

In fact, the can spoil a person’s public image.

By virtue of their painful bite which shake so severe,

They need to be killed without any revere.

A Ship of Hope and Dreams

My ship is lazily drifting along the waters of life. Yet, I seem to have a large porthole where I can experience and feel the beauty and love of life. Through that porthole, I seem to be in darkness until the I see  the rising of the moon showering it’s light beams upon the earth. Those beams of light can reach into our souls giving strength and goodness to a renewal of spirit.   For many of us that gift can bring us to that point of understanding and our ability to withstand the storms of life.

Morning comes and the sun is slowing rising with it’s healing rays bringing beauty to the world of nature. My mind can see the flowing streams and brooks and the wind blowing through the trees.  I feel the waves of the water slowing cradling my ship and bringing a harmony between land and sea.  There is also a harmony between the sun and the moon giving nature and man a time of health, peace and love.