Ghana is like a pregnant woman who kills her children after having carried her baby for nine months: and that is no effect of a curse.

If after all the inputs made to keep the baby strong, healthy and alive (all the political advantages),
the pains of carrying the baby for nine months, the labour room experiences and the soreness of childbirth (the toils, struggles, sweat and blood shed by the founding fathers and their teams attain freedom and buy Ghana its true destiny),

the joy of safe delivery
and the consoling smiles that glows on the faces common to the labour room in welcoming her child, (colonial relief and chance to be a complete supreme state) she unimaginably manages to beyond fit describable words do the unthinkable by killing that baby, it is no effect of a curse.

Rather, it is what I would leave to your imagination and personal interpretation. Nevertheless, this is the sad situation of the African continent, and of my country Ghana.

Let thinking heads marry rooted minds to dig out the codes of these coals of words.
When a couple after decades of difficulties in child bearing, keep on aborting any pregnancy that comes

and attribute it to miscarriage when in actuality they have tailored the womb that bears the child to a satanic altar and the fetish of wealth creation, it is no effect of a curse.

Call it what you want, journey intellectually through the alpha and omega of the stated scenario, rack your minds to crack the locks of this shameful reality.

And see, if that is not the unseen happenings in mother Ghana since she got married to the husband whose name I ball into your nets to catch.

The excruciating pain is that, the black soil suffers from this fake infertility and pretentious barrenness. Again let me tintinnabulate the bell of truth that, it is no effect of a curse.

However, it is highly crucial to know that, it is the effect of something even more serious, critical and dangerous than a curse.

When leaders put the destiny of a whole nation into one pot, and make a law that says a million hand is to be dipped into it simultaneously,
be not surprised if no hand finds sufficient and lasting substance. I put it to you that, that is the exact result they seek to achieve, and it is no effect of a curse.

When men tie their hearts, heads and hands to nonsense, greed, corruption, wickedness, and amass wealth to the disadvantage of the masses, it is no effect of a curse.

Maybe, just mayhap, it is the effect of a plan. Well, I serve it to you as food to consume and digest.
When watchmen sleep, and are paid, the night laughs when the hand that pays appreciates him in the day. This also is no effect of a curse.

Perhaps, just perchance, the watchmen are men with wrist watches not eyes that watches.

Inopportunely, this is the persisting life Ghana has lived over the years.
And I mourn that none mourns.

I also mourn because all who mourn have decided not to eliminate the agencies and agents that birth the many reasons they mourn.

Man is simply the devil, and the results of his thoughts, deeds and words, create the evil we see.
And every evil he does create the hell we see, and the hell we see creates the self-incurred judgement that is misconstrued as Jehovah El-Smart’s wrath.
I leave the sounds of this bell to you to interpret: whether it be break time, or closing time. My hope is that; you will know what time it is.

I CAN 🔥✊🏽✍🏽🧠💪🏽

A great philosopher once said, “It is disastrous to tell yourself a lie and believe in it; however, the consequences of such are somewhat containable.

But uncontainable are the consequences of denying yourself of the truth, not acknowledging its place and worth, and refusing to admit that, when you miss the truth, you miss more than just a truth.” – Katakyie Nana Kwadwo Baah- Ababio. P.

Innumerable are the masses who died achieving nothing worth remembering or significant down the ages.

This is because they told themselves lies regarding what and what not they can or cannot do – denying their talents space for maximum functioning, incapacitating their abilities to the level of zero yield, and rendering the sharp edges of the swords of their skills and potentials, permanently blunt and ineffective.

So, my question to you – my dear reader is, “What is that your self-told lie? And what idea have you concerning the disaster of such an untrue sermon exalted as your personal belief system?”

Not believing in a truth while still searching is one thing, but believing in a lie and resting is another thing: the latter has more power to destroy you than Satan has.” This is a philosophy that falls as a voice from my inner sanctum of wisdom, and through my tender lips of kind service.

This lesson do I gift to non-lazy minds; “tell yourself you can do all things, and achieve many things. Rather than telling yourself you can achieve some things, and end up achieving few things or nothing at all.
From this moment onward as you read these words, tell yourself – I CAN.

Undoubtedly and undoubtably, there are impossible things; but other than to refrain from trying, we should take the adventure of having an experience with what seems impossible. Who knows?

We may find for ourselves that, that was just another “I’m + possible” situation. As the late African hero puts it, “It always seem impossible, until it’s done” – Nelson Mandela.

Don’t let challenges and difficulties defeat you even before you try. And don’t permit lies to deter you from trying.

The truth of all truths is that, YOU CAN. Psyche your mind, make preparations, get yourself equipped and ready, train in the dark, and unleash the team of positive elements buckled with truth with right timing, and take on that challenge.

Say you yourself – I CAN. And you’ll be amazed to realize, “YOU DID IT”. Shout it out loud, I CAN.


The eyes, sees “ALL” things but itself. So, while we turn our opinions into perfect mirrors into which others may look, behold their imperfections and correct their images, may we also be extra careful not to judge. For mirrors do not judge.

When an imperfect man becomes the perfect judge of another imperfect man, injustice becomes the inevitable outcome of every judgment, and wrong shall every sentence be.

If you decide to make your life a court, your words the judge, and elevate yourself as a law which should never be the case anyhow; just remember to be careful who you choose to nail upon the cross.

Your weaknesses are potential crimes, your imperfections are probable unimaginable sins, and your natural flaws which are hazards associated with being human, are potential unlawful behavioural traits that could land you or anyone at all in the trap of legal bars of the human legal systems.

I say this to remind and to caution my dear readers, to be careful who they choose to crucify.

Because the same reason for which you choose death for others, is not a reason beyond which you cannot be tempted and found wanting.

Verbal torturers and butchers are the most self-righteous, but surprising they fear the light just as much as those who find cover in the dark. Oh! Hypocrites.

I wonder how they find the courage to sharpen their tongues to cut others from freedom, and yet fear to lose theirs.
Are we all not men with holes in our choices? Are we all not by our flaws made somewhat lawless? Why should another be nailed upon the cross on the account of what does not count?

In exchange for hate give love, in exchange for death give life, for the mystery guide to the human life though somewhat cruel, favours the good.

Across the streets of justice, there is no zebra crossing; therefore, only the users of the law streets decide when it’s safe to cross for justice. Thus, if anyone gets knocked down by law, by law shall he be locked out.

This is for thoughtful minds and discerning hearts, a truth too heavy for lazy minds.
The Jesus they had crucified yesterday, that same Jesus do their descendants worship and glorify today. So, BE CAREFUL WHO YOU CHOOSE TO CRUCIFY.


There’s a voice that rests within the soul – a voice resident in all men
A voice so distinct: a voice that can be heard in the noisiest place
A voice that has no substitute – a voice that has no feature of a race
It is not heard by the external ears
Neither is it spoken by the human mouth
It is not a sound that is heard from without
It is the secret code that self-dials at certain set times and at intervals sensitive to the impulses of purpose

It is like a self-set alarm that rings per the watch of individual lives; it sounds when the future sends signals into our present
It is the secret pin to unlocking our destiny
It is the voice that utters the numerical lock that enables us to discover our divinely secured truest self
This voice is what I call the non-tribal voice
It is a voice that can drive a man into a journey of silence, and take him on a trip of deep thinking
It is a “digital destiny alarm system” that screams – “seek me, find me”

It is the voice that leads us to the place of self-discovery – it is as unique as our finger print, and finely tuned as the physical laws of nature
It is the DNA of our destiny – it has no carbon copy

In our spirits are echoes, echoes from the voice resident in the deeper regions of our soul

It requires a lonely, courageous and intentional dive to reach its waters
It is the only voice the design of our spirits favours; such that within our spirits, it echoes

Our spirits air it to the wind around our physical ears for us to hear it audibly, when no external voice has spoken
It is the voice I call the non-tribal voice
It is not the song of the mind
It is the cry of our souls that speak to our ears: and they hear it as a known old voice
A voice ancient – older than our numerical age: it our greatest clue to avoiding the unnecessary queue of men seeking success
It is the voice of our true self programmed by God ahead of time: before our conception, and before our birth

This voice is the advocate of our purpose: the judge able to sentence our “false self/identity” into the zone of extinction; a universal voice resident in all men

It is the voice of God in us that leads us to the place of the heartbeat of our truest object self
This voice is what I call, “The Non-Tribal Voice” – it is not something that said, it was this voice that spoke.
The voice with no tribe, a voice that belongs to no specific tongue – it’s a voice for all, a voice in all.

DEPRESSION (The Poetic Justice)

Heavy the load we bear, greater our necks are stressed. More and more our bodies sweat, yet joy from us is far to fetch.
Our lips are zipped, too weak are we to speak. For the fear of stigmatization, we dodge any possible attention;
for to us, every onlooker is a threat rather than a healthy treat – mouths that will sell our broken life pieces in the streets.
But wait, is there an audience for the silently oppressed? Truth be told, there is none to whom to tell: to share our pian just to conquer the fears and anxiety of being depressed.

Oh! How brutal is this lonely forest; a forest in which you are the only standing tree.
A sad tale of a million people – a people who are drowned in the thought of only being worth the tail. Oh! What a terrible bait to swallow; a bait that leaves countless hollow.

Depression, a mystery jail from which many need bail: a rough water hard to singlehandedly sail.
These words I utter are bars intended to break anyone facing depression from those dark emotional bars.
A balm for the wounded, a peace to put to bed the memories that echo from our scars.

Just follow the lines of rhymes till you are able to align ……
I know you are facing such lows in life. BUT, fight. Life is a battle so wrestle. Choose to rumble than to struggle.
There’s a price to pay for self-happiness – that is another level of a conscious mental hustle. So, make your everyday joy your everyday job.

Yes, I know, that sometimes our minds stretch till our minds can’t rest.
“QUIET”, our currency to impress. Oh yeah! Our silence is our means to impress.
We fake strength to hide our weakness, yet, depression catches us as cold: can’t even take a breath

Our nightmares we tell as fairy tales. Our deep mental cuts we don’t express.
Our trauma we coat with smiles so fresh, but our lives taste no better – just bitter.
But buckle these words around your waist ….
Depression is not shameful, it is not a sign of weakness, it is human: expose and expel it. There is no need to act up, for the unfortunate end of all these pretenses is a depression sentence.

Don’t let depression kill your self-esteem and bury your self-confidence. Pick yourself up, keep your head up and high, talk to God about it or find a friend in a friend to cast away this unseen torturous friend.
I know you sometimes can’t explain it, that’s why I say, shake it off and turn your lights back on.


If all the good that I did yesterday were counted as trash, then why would you expect me to do any good today, knowing it would be treated only as things worthy for the dump site the next day after today?

It is mind-boggling, yet, simultaneously interesting to receive a “Thank You, Well-done or Congratulations” for a benevolent act today, and one way or the other be robbed of your honour as a human tomorrow for the same act by the same people.

I have searched and analysed, observed and pondered – yet I end up in total wonder; seeing how men manage to repay your kind-heartedness towards them with complete forgetfulness, but repay your errors with utter judgement and resentment, rather than forgiveness.

This I do term equally as UNGRATEFULNESS. Profit a man in a million ways, and be a loss to him in just one way; and he’ll write a single page article on how good you used to be, but a hundred books on how bad of a kind of a person you are.

This is also the doing of an INGRATE. Ungrateful people have a more unforgivable nature: so, be watchful while being a profit to their accounts, lest you in a short while, you’ll be tearful for a long while.

For an ungrateful man/woman only remembers the past as dead stories and not as valuable memories – so offend them in the minutest way, and your forgiveness will depend on their present feeling, the record of the current wrong you’ve done, what friends tell them, but never on what manner of a healthy past you shared.

In our age today, the voices of the peaceful past and the pleas of priceless memories fall on deaf ears because of a single mistake that should drown in the oceans of love. Oh! What a pitiful generation. Oh! What an evil cloud of darkness that engulfs the sad souls of this young generation.

Sad is this reality; unfortunate is its ending.
Oh! What a freedom to will and to choose that only allows self-enslavement and the collapse of beautiful friendships – a freedom that momentarily makes us feel as “gods”, but which reduces us into a people who trade words with one another in the “tongues of dogs”.

Being ungrateful today for a mistake which cannot replace or in anyway erase the bountiful blessings of yesterday is the surest sign of betrayal and a solid trait of an ingrate.

Open your eyes – see, for sometimes ungratefulness is birthed through unforgiveness and unfaithfulness: for these too are a nature of an ungrateful soul.

If men/women were grateful to God for bringing a fellow man/woman into their lives, the definition of gratefulness would change from appreciating the acts of men as at when they do good, to appreciating the value of their lives such that:

if their acts do not produce the substances of kindness but fruits of bitterness at certain times, the essence and relevance of their presence will preserve their honour and image as pearls in our circles.

For one bad fruit does not justify the reason a whole tree must be cut down. Thus, gratefulness is welcoming a life with gladness in a manner that affects how you treat their wrongful acts.
Again, to be grateful for a life in your circle is an honour to God and a preservation for one’s own reputation in years to come.

Be grateful beyond the lips service of “Thank You”. Do not disrespect the substance of another’s humanity because of a general flaw unique to him/her at the moment, but common to all: for flaws are simply the inherent hazards to being humans. Embrace these lights, and BE GRATEFUL BEYOND “Thank You”.


Loud is the cry of silence, and the stories of the lonely are as the ghost sounds in ghost towns. The agonies that kill us when we refuse to show them, and their showings thereof which also kills us – a mystery bonded with an irony: these are our UNTOLD STORIES. Sometimes the present hurts because the wounds of past are allowed to spread to our present: this happens because we fail to apply the balm of healing; which is in its telling.

The whisperings of our sufferings, the speeches of our scars, the muted griefs lurking in our hearts, and the rumblings of endless pain that terrorizes us privately: these are our UNTOLD STORIES.

The shameful realities we can’t market with our lips, the rotten product lifestyles we can’t sell and thus, hide, that none can tell, the emotional beasts that feasts on our souls till we become all bloody and suffer severe bleeding, the “snake under grass” part of us we cast shadows on in our little bushes to appear as though we are without venom: these are our UNTOLD STORIES.

The tears known only to our pillows, the disappointments that suck our joy till we become hollow, the monies and meals that sustain us only because we borrowed, the false appearances that are meant to impress the public,

but that only leaves us depressed, the acts we put up on social media to paint a “fine” status of ourselves knowing for a fact we have a stagnant, depreciating, and sometimes even a fast- deteriorating social status: these are our UNTOLD STORIES.

The hurts we bury under our smiles, the inner voices that drowns our hopes, the family issues that make us empty our pockets to buy tissues because life ceases not to tattoo our hearts with series of bad news we can’t undo, the thunderous voices of worry, self- doubt,

and the fears of uncertainty that denies us of our peace and sleep every now and then, the betrayals we can’t bear alone yet there’s none to hear, the back stabbings and heartbreaks we can’t share because none seems to care: these are our UNTOLD STORIES.

The realities not seen, the lies people spread while our truths are never heard, the false accusations that strips us off of our reputation, the shameful unforgettable errors that keeps our feet around the edges of the ditches of peril and that fills our minds with horror,

the insensitivity and coldness we face from the same people to whom we gave warmth – repaying our best with their worst, the imposed inferiority complex, the systematic identity crises that overwhelms our personality: these are our UNTOLD STORIES.

The undermining of our potentials from those to give us support and strength, the overthinking born as a result of the intercourse between stress and the sense of not belonging to where we want to be accepted, the bullying and underestimation society sprays at random that hits innocent souls as stray bullets,

the character assassination and spiritual barrenness, those common true-to-life happenings forbidden to fall from the mouths that bear the seal of power and freedom due to threats from the majority and zero support from the minority: these are our UNTOLD STORIES.
But as it’s been said already; “Loud is the cry of silence, and the stories of the lonely are as the ghost sounds in ghost towns”.

There are voices in the cemetery and communications among the dead, but none hears. There are cries and pleas from the grave yet none knows. There are voices nature speaks, but alien to our ears. The earth roars, but it falls on death ears.

Life is a voice – a sound of meaning, a meaning time teaches, a teaching ignored by men (male and female) and a time none understands, and an understanding none teaches. All is in one as one is in many; a mystery is the plain, and the plain a mystery. The untold telling – a telling unto the old: these are our tales, our UNTOLD STORIES.



S3 wok) as)re kwa a, )bonsam fa wo kwa-kwa. (If being in church does not result in you bearing God’s signature on your slate, then Satan in this “chess of conscious living” will always have you checkmated.)

S3 wosom Nyame yie na wo pere afofor) yiedie a na 3b3si wo yie. (If you serve God without hypocrisy lurking in your heart, and seek for the success of others, your success becomes inevitable.)

You cannot rob God and make profit. In fact, stealing from God is the fastest way to make your own coffin. And anything you steal from the righteous, innocent and poor cannot earn you a living so start repenting.
Be fair in your dealings with your fellow men. And be wise: quick to obey the divine laws while you are still breathing.

Of truth, no man’s hand is large enough to cover the eyes of Nana Nyame (GOD). So, in all you do, remember, God is watching.


Your life is not big enough to make both God and Satan own shares: there can only be one sole owner – let that be God.
And if you happen to let God be Lord (owner) of your life, dare not let the devil be a shareholder.

If you take your life for a house; God can only be the landlord and not a tenant. The reverse case is futile and fatal.

Let’s face reality, though in our churches we claim to worship “Yesu Kristo”, the church has metamorphosed from a place that is a holy assembly of believers into “Yesu Disco”.

We no more can tell the difference between praises and “soolooku” – hmm, )bra y3 )koo.

The same dancers in the church are the clubbers; whose early morning breakfast is “pitoo”. But who are we deceiving, and what are we achieving?

God cannot be mocked; he cannot be deceived by a criminal in clerical or be confused by a fetish priest pretending to be a pastor in a smock.
Ne3 woguo no, 3no ara na wotwa – you reap what you sow.

If you sow wickedness, you’ll chew stones as your meal someday.

So, have tomorrow in view while you live today, and be mindful when scattering bad seeds.
For if you sow wickedness, you’ll chew stones as your meal someday.

Duality is carnality in the kingdom, any other message is a fallacy. Flee hypocrisy and avoid the hypocrites – say no to a dual life.


These are the words a sage: “Men who lust, do not last”.
We’ve made love look like a stranger. When you show love, people look at you with strange eyes. Our hearts are cold; love feels like that constant negative temperature. We fear our love life will freeze like ice – now that’s real cold.

Because of few betrayals many have their hearts in safety mode. Love is treated like some hazard; we’ve given up on love – but in lust we only end up being jeopardized: for immorality is no paradise.

We’ve metamorphosed into what I term as “rangers of lust”, wrestling against love – a lost battle: in vain do our hearts struggle, therefore let us dust off the lust.

I tell you this truth, it is our mind that needs a cure, not love: for it’s pure. Love is not a patient, so let’s direct our prescriptions to our attitudes: I came to assist you perform a character diagnosis – see the picture on your mental screen: that’s your personality results after the screening.

Our character needs mending, our thinking some resetting, our ideas some filtering and beliefs some pruning.

Or I tell you, hearts will keep on being broken, many will keep on hurting, innocent souls will suffer emotional bleeding – and unable to get through their healing, our hearts become “stone cold”, and then we become rangers of lust but we have to dust off the lust.

Love is a power house – it provides utilities for the heart but lusts overload the heart with the seemingly weightless pleasures that only causes futilities to the heart combined with fatalities. So, resign from your post as a ranger of lust, open your eyes and dust off the lust.

One thing I know is that, when lust is defended, the safety love is built to provide for our hearts fail? Our ways toward love are bending.

No one says RIP to love and still gets to keep his or her heart in one piece. These words are deep – keep them as a guide to your feet because the life we’re living is steep.

I pray our hearts find peace, but how shall my prayers be, when our lusts aren’t stilled? Oh! Poor souls, rangers of lust; when are you going to realize your hearts need to be dusted from lust? I bring you a free gift of wisdom, dust off the lust from your hearts.


Show love, light the love bulb, deactivate the hate bomb, in the streets share the love bond – let love lead.

Show some love – SSL
Show love to a stranger, show love to a friend.
Allow your heart to take the risk of loving the “outcast”. For not showing love may mean the real cast out.
And also, that just for once, they may feel there’s a life to “cash out”, but not that the little life in them is being “flashed out”.

Be kind to a fellow – since you can’t always tell when one is emotionally hollow and is overwhelmed with sorrows. For no man walks about carrying his emotions on his shoulders like guns hang around the necks of soldiers.

Apply love gently like a massage cream to the soul emotionally fouled unto suicide but who only express silent screams.

Our hearts are not displayed on screens; so, wear a smile, tame the hate, and take love to the extremes – allow it flow majestically like the gentle streams.

Show some love
Apply love gently like a massage cream to the soul emotionally fouled unto suicide but who only express silent screams.

There’s beauty in saving souls unconsciously (with smiles and kind acts). And there’s terror in further destroying (killing) souls unconsciously with our frowns or consciously by our cruel acts.

Show love, light the love bulb, deactivate the hate bomb, in the streets share the love bond – let love lead.

Love is when we ensure that what happens next after our actions causes nothing either than happiness.

So, SSL – Show Some Love
Show love to a neighbour. Kindness is not any serious act of labour. So, when you do favour unto men, do not ask for silver.

Sow love and reap peace, show love and cover the hate ditch. Sow love and sweep wins, show love and bury the beast’s team. Sow love and bin evil bills, show love and conquer death’s speech.

Love without conditions, because one day those conditions may not favour you when you need love the most. I gift you this wisdom; when your love is based on conditions, the love you experience will be conditioned to ghost you.

Let the one with discernment and understanding profit. Show some love.

Sow love and reap peace, show love and cover the hate ditch.
Sow love and sweep wins, show love and bury the beast’s team. Sow love and bin evil bills, show love and conquer death’s speech.

Show love to a neighbour. Kindness is not any serious act of labour. So, when you do favour unto men, do not ask for silver.

Show some love brothers, show some true love
Show love without opening your zip, show love without booking a “pleasure time” to press and suck some “tits”.

Show love without sharing a piece of yourself with sin, show love without thinking about what will turn that “boneless legend of a stick” into a hard steel.

Show some love sisters, show some real love
Show love without getting naked, show love without getting your body wasted.

Show love without repeatedly bumping on the pen plus an is of a dude like a car on a potholed road to have him “waisted”, and getting his “scaleless snaketwisted.

Hahahaa, busted.
I am the King of the Linguistical Chess, and I decree among all, to SSL – SHOW SOME LOVE.

I am the wise man whose words never sink, and the writer with the eternal ink …. Engineered to be a POET, and schooled to be an ENGINEER 🥰💯🤍