an era past the Renaissance,
earth birthed mystery.
it was a tumult where brownish bronze eggs hatched
and gold feigned scandium
and roots rotted to Sheol
and skins melted under the blazing
white cry of Heavens.
a generation,
rising with brains with extended braids.
ticklish tongues,
probing any misdemeanour.
a sensation running down their feet,
throbbing to the ground’s pulse.
a ninth sense,
piqued by weird interest,
aroused by coincidence
and bold enough to drink a fairy’s piss.
they have tags to indicate themselves.
a pretty vulgar language woven in them,
a tune they hum with their caged voices,
a laughter that glows and later goes.
they draw angles on tinted papers and
let the sun decide if it’s
faithful or complete.
Craig Paakow Anderson is a Ghanaian writer and a student whose works explores reality and the sacred textures of everyday life. Rooted in Accra, his writing evolves around human spirit and reaches the psychology of pride, beauty and decay.