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Monday, 4 March 2013

These Dancers

I saw them dance the other day
And this I often do.
They moved rhythmically,
Like the sound of the music
Had sewn them together,
To move in sync.
Then a song I do not know
But I begin to sing.
The dance floor
Ever so white.
The flute I play
Ever so its colour.
Has me on the playlist
My flute,now a baton
Disguised: my pen.
I conduct the orchestra
And these dancers
Dance a poem.
I'm just a poet
Making these words dance,
From a randomly chosen song
Inspiration on shuffle
You're next on the playlist.
You are a poet,
Do make words dance.
-Royyce Jeddi O'Zionn
[Written on 31-7-2012.Inspired by a line from Shrewd Banana's poem, "The Poet's Curse:" So I write,and hope the words will dance together"]

Tuesday, 22 January 2013


The sky...
Is turning blue.
I breathe in 
And heave...a sigh.

The sky
Is turning blue.
The dry weather,
And the dusty winds 
That blew

Sneeze! Eeeww!

The sky is turning blue
More breath-taking sunsets
Breathe in the light
And let's...
Let's take pictures!

The sky 
Is turning blue
Like milk churning slowly
To make cheese.

So take a pose
And say cheese
More snapshots,

 [Inspired by  Sarah Yeboah's Facebook status: "The sky is finally turning blue. Harmattan is running away. Colourful pictures for me. :)."The more reason why I wrote it was to inspire to keep on taking more pictures.She is a friend I know not too well but wanted her to be motivated to continue in one of her passion (photography) which I believe she got into not too long ago. 
 Written circa 1510hrs--1528hrs,21/1/2013 ]

Saturday, 1 December 2012


Cold eyes
Bold face.
A serial killer
Being birthed within
The other personality.

A war of duality
Raging in my mind.
Meditating on the sequence
Of the sickening silence
Of a blunt blade slicing raw flesh.
With the deep red blood
Oozing like slow dancers
The euphoric sensation gotten
From the screams of the victim
Is the only natural high
That affords me undiluted ecstasy.
Murder has become my drug.
A thought that starts to overshadow
My light with darkness

Then my conscience drips the essence
Of innocence
Into my heart
Forming the warmth
That begins to thaw
My frozen thoughts
Of menace
Preserved for that deathly day.
I then smell my thoughts
The stench fills the lungs
Of my memory.

Reminding me
This is not me
I am not evil
I am not evil
Then...I pass out...

[How influential is your conscience?]

Wednesday, 28 November 2012


Doing very little of
Concealing the complexity within

Head held up
As if to say, 
"You think little of me,don't you?"

For she asks with the tenderness
And innocence
That are seconded by the smoothness
Of her face.

As her lips refuse to kiss your opinion
Of her.
They think she is a cheap whore
But her justified arrogance
Is what's left of the honour she has vowed to keep.

Every woman should have some pride 
In herself.
Drawing from the energy of her sexuality
To power her confidence.

You are arrogant,
Only because they think little of you.
So refuse not
Like the weave on your head
As you allow your mentality
To be weaved together 
With your sexuality.

A woman...
A personality of complex simplicity
Embedded beneath
Her subtle arrogance.

[Inspired by the picture taken by Gerard Nartey--along with how he captioned it from which I got the title,and a song, "Desire" by Syn of FaintMedal.Most of the elements in the poem are also inspired by the poet in the picture,Edith Ndabi (Miss Ndabi) , who likes to write on themes concerning sexuality and women.Written circa 1841hrs--1859hrs on