Prisoners Poem by Aziz Baako

Dear Freedom,

Ghana has changed the ruling
Administration.
And I am consumed in the darkness
Of a darkroom as I write
To you right now.
I assume you are doing well
Out in the walls
Of the big prison built
By the architects of hell.

Booms of stressed expressions
Is still oozing from my JVC
Speakers reminding me of
The thousands of us scattered
Around the world in different
Continents, countries, Cities
And communities..

I still listen to Hip Hop Freedom.
Have you listen to Talib’s
Beautiful Struggle?
You should do. It is almost
Dedicated to you.

My windows to the world
Has a view of
Moving cloud racing
Westward toward nowhere
As I pen these pain down
With traces of my blood
Flooding the paper.

I wish you were here
To see. It is about to rain again.

Lightening has just lit
The darkness outside like the
Art of a dead branch
In the sky.
Do you remember the
Day before you left, when
Clara said a lightening
In the sky
Wrote the name of God?
Yes that kind
Of illumination is the kind
I am experiencing.

The Market women on that
Dusty streets we use to play
Are stretching
Their necks east and west
As if examining the excel
And failure of the sun.

The drug hawkers are still
Wandering the streets
Wondering when the rains would
Fall to wash down centuries
Of chains at the core
Of our minds.

They don’t want to remain
That way all their lives.
May be when it rains
There will be a change.
May be our God would
Relieved us of these insanity,
And free us from years of
Drugs, stealing and sleeping
On those dirty streets
Created by the conditioning
And reconditioning of our
System.



Freedom,
We still have the younger
Generations trooping
Every split second to the new
Jails that are design with
Us in mind.

The system has only few
Enlightened people, which
Is making development
Very difficult.

The plastic
Companies have littered
The whole of the capital city.


We can’t go to beach
on Sundays

The Government is still allowing
The West to dump in our sea.

I sometimes think about
The type of Prison Uncle
Sam has tricked our people In.

Have you heard Aziz is not
Allowed free movement?
His visa has been revoked
And his entry denied,
BLACK MAY BE OR MAY BE
WHAT HE STANDS FOR.
Or What do you think?

I lately had an American friend.
Who told me my
President is a puppet,
I told him about you
And what you think about
The system. He said he will
Like to meet you when you are out.


Oops! forget to say, Clara
Had a baby boy,
Our generations are still
Breeding for the system
To waste in street corners,

Do you think we will
Be proud fathers some day?
Keep ya head up.
We still do what we
do best.
Tell the world
We are not staying down
Forever.

Respect.
Ancestor



Despair of a Displaced Person series