The Artist's Hand Expressed by Tye , at 12:48 AM, in

Five-pointed perfection
Angled in god-like grace.
Beauty in every niche,
Every crease unfurling
Natural flawlessness.
Delicate…A symphony in form
A masterpiece on its own.

What Is Love? I Think... Expressed by Tye , at 11:56 PM, in

Love is the intense warmth
You feel when you’re with him
It’s the flaming warmness
You feel in some part of your being
Your soul perhaps, that tells you
She was destined, created for you.

Love is the feeling you feel, of sunshine
That glowing happiness that tells you
That should hurt come, you can bear it.
Love’s that feeling when the hurt does come;
The one that tells you that falsehood
That the next tear
Will drain you of all life forever.

Love is that soothing knowledge
That you’re glad to be alive and loved.
It’s the same thing that makes you want
To live forever, in an eternity
Of cool warm blissful contentment.
And yet the same thing that
Reassures your content soul
That death will be fine
Because what your heart felt was true.

Love’s that silent invisible raging fire
That refuses to be quenched when you’re with her
It’s that gentle eternal pebble of ice
That melts a little every time you taste his tender kiss
It’s that pure distilled anguished awakening of joy;
That elusive singular light that ignites…
When you’re in each other’s embrace.

And you, what do you think Love is?

PS: Partly inspired by Chrisette Michele's "Love Is You".

My Pain Expressed by Tye , at 12:27 AM, in

That I care
Is my pain
That your pain
Is my pain
That I lose
So you gain;
That is my pain.

That you drive
Me insane
And you think
This a game
That I lose
So you gain;
That is my pain.

That I love
You in vain
That my love
Is my pain
That I lose
So you gain;
That is my pain.

That your joy
Is my pain
That he lives
Is my pain
That his bliss
Is my pain
That I wish him
My pain
For your heart;
That is my pain.

- Expressed by Tye , at 12:10 PM, in

I’m falling

And I reached to you

Pushed me away without a look

I’m hurting

And you saw my wounds

Then left me standing where I stood

I’m crying

Though the world can’t see

Even I can’t see how much I bleed

You see

Though you didn’t speak the words

Somehow you told me you’d be there

That you’d be HERE…

Now all I hear

Is the white noise

Of speculation

And a void.

Ghanaians & Noise Pollution Expressed by Tye , at 7:27 PM, in

In fact, Ghanafoc p3 dede! Really, hasn’t anybody heard of noise pollution? Ah! What nonsense is this?!

How can the first thing you do in the morning be to wake up to your bed vibrating and your eardrums spewing blood because some random idiot thinks it’s his right and God-given responsibility to blast some rubbish music from the next neighborhood at like a million decibels?! Idiocy! Idiocy, I tell you!

I mean, it’s bad enough that the music is shamefully loud, but it’s downright sacrilegious when on top of all this noise the music is crap too; when this music is in fact noise! Seriously, if it’s not some no-talent woman wailing about how God has done nothing in her life and has left her in the hands of the devil, then it is some equally untalented man declaring earnestly to the whole world how desperately he needs somebody to ring his ‘berlls’(wtf?). And as if destroying your already gloomy Monday morning is not enough, some will go on and give you another dose of noise to complement your lunch.

Oh and do they come in an array of colorful options: Take your pastor friend, Brother Fred, who believes he lives in ancient Jerusalem, and is on a quest to save the entire country from flaming damnation- even with the loudspeaker, he will shout in the streets of Accra till you can hear him in Bolga! Or the family of a deceased ‘big man paaa’ who had no interest in him when he was alive, but deem it ‘only right’ that he be given a befitting funeral at all cost- rain or shine, even if it means the funeral being broken down into weekly installments, and hiring mourners to roll on the ground and stridently recount non-existent anecdotes about his greatness. Then there is Sister Adjoa who will make all the fufu-pounding noise in the world to ensure that everyone knows her chopbar is open, all the while playing her very own rendition of noise. And all this while, the idiot who woke you up is still displaying his DJ-ing skills and has switched up his music to something different, but equally unpleasant and raucous.

And just as the sun goes down and you think that finally, peace-of-mind may just be an option, Abrante3 Spot or one of its cousin’s opens just around the corner, and bursts your bubble with a rude, loud, unbearable entrance that lasts and lasts like Keysoap, till you just want to go and throw yourself away. And to make matters worse, repeats the same music that jolted you out of your sleep, only louder, and with intent to remove all doubt from anybody’s mind that the spot is really open for business.

Really, we are a people blessed with an appreciation of, and an uncanny ability to make noise. It’s an interesting aspect of our lives that we can laugh about, however, on a more serious note; something really needs to be done about this compulsive desire we have to create some random ridiculous ruckus, at any point in time. Whales have died, and zebra finches have become less faithful to their partners... I just hope that they don't discover that noise pollution reduces our life span by 25%.