Big Feet

Feet as wild as yours
Could sweep the streets in aisles
They should be shod like a horse
Or tamed with emery files

At Least, Not More Than ...

I suffered the captain of the B Black Stars this morning, on Joy FM’s sports news, coolly declare that they would beat the B Super Eagles by ‘at least not more than 3 goals.’

Now, if you would permit me to go and make breakfast (by frying the egg that ought to be on his face) while you flounder at decoding his most-confusing cipher, I’m sure your high logic would gather my pain.

I’ve heard too many people deploy words, but especially phrases, that they don’t understand. I hear many say ‘at least’ when they clearly mean ‘at most’. But, ‘at least, not more than 3 goals’ is surely a medal-winning gaffe.

‘At least’ being a floor, and ‘at most’ a ceiling, I do not think the B Black Stars really intend to play in that match. What they seek to do is simply impossible for footballers ... or even politicians.

Untitled

He's sleeping in the office
That wavering woman of his
Has done her thing again
He's running from the pain

Three

All triangles
Have three sharp angles
It's thrilling to be paired
But three can only hurt

Flagrant Attraction

Beauty lies in the art of exposure – of body, mind and soul!

I locked up late from work last night, and kindly :-) offered to take a colleague most of the way home. Now the homeward wind doesn’t waft me through the other parts of the City of Accra like Adabraka and Dansoman, to lap up the preferred female nether-wear. But, at Madina-Adenta, the miniskirts frolic-flock out to make the mouth of the night crawler water. Straight-cut, figure-hugging, cellulite-serving, A-line-ish, fluttering-flower-petal, booty-banquet, you get the whole, bare-stripped idea.

There must be some charm-conjuring interplay among the drooling darkness, the wily wan light and the beguiling almost-clothing. The miniskirt, you see, is brazenly based on wild imagination. What’s not there is much more than what is (both physically and mentally). Cowardly critics and weak-willed moralists see a slimy basilisk poised to strike, instead of a drop-dead-gorgeous demoiselle. Think unsubtle art, otherwise you see garment, rump and stumps, instead of hills and valleys; rivers and waterfalls; soft-lined highways to lovely lands.

Zain Zugzwangs MTN

While all Accraians are mulling mass migration to the ‘new experience’, the old guard is asleep – still MainTaiNing its unexplained inadequacies which cost us all time and money. And while the newcomers are zigZAggINg from Cape Three Points to the Paga Pond with innovative introduction, systematic seduction and electrifying entertainment, we see no responsive movement or MoTioN from the telecoms dodos. If they were looking hard, they would know about the more than 0.26 million Accraians who have already pre-registered to access the ‘new experience’.

The Ghost Carvers in the City of Accra

Fancy furniture, stone sculpture, frilly flower pots, crosswise-woven, kente cloth and fermenting flowers line up on the rough shoulders of the streets to the suburbs of the City of Accra, as Accraian artisans make a living on their skilful(?) creations (hopefully they all go to bed at night, and do not do dark deeds at night to up their ‘income’). The weavers on the loom, wicker workers, furniture makers and dilettante florists are up at daybreak creating art, beauty and business. And the carvings! Odum giraffes, Mahogany gazelles and Sapele rhinos range and illustrate the busy streets. What you will never see is a work in progress. You’ll see them polishing but never creating, carving; but they swear they did it themselves.