Born from the dot of the origin of blackness
Adorned with the gold in the rays of not madness, but Amen Ra
In this fresh form of a lotus leaf beneath the Nile reefs, the scarab breaths.
The birth of the worlds greatest empire that fell prey to the ice vampire
Neantherdals born colors non black, in the peak of the Greek, spreading like azonto leaks on a roman dick in the loins of Elizabeth the strange.
Until the clergy ordained in the mission of distortion, to distract the perfection of this nation, in the powers of papal swiss mechanisms, sets in motion the games of
Kings to slaves, queens to bastard bitches, boys to girls, leaders to disciples of treachery
The untruth unveils the truth to the blessed unruly, who from ancient days have survived the brutalities once casted upon, the Carthaginians of Phoenicia, the kabalistic essence of the essenes, plotting within the walls of st peters the anhilation of the 14 tablets of enchi, the esoteric relics of imhotep in the abyss of Giza, the divine codecs of Hermes mercurious trismegistus
How so does evil sit on this hill of Alkebulan, and melts its juice of corruption into the drinking cups of river prah, and poison the spirituality of the Tanzania Bantus, the oshun , the Ogun, obatala, Nzakomba, Nzema not forgetting Dagomba in Mother Ghana
She was ripped of the glory of the success of Nkrumah simply CU's he was nsromma, to the land a beacon of endless possibilities relegated to rot upon the toes of JB Danquah
A deliberate attempt by the NLM, the UP, the CIA that culminated into a wastage like the suffering NHIA, to demonize the vision and mission of Osagyefo Okunini Kwame Nkrumah
Until with the iron fists of JJ Rawlings, Like the golden rave of the Meduccis of Florence, and the raging tempers of priesthoods genitalia set in motion the order that would free us once again.
And yet the fleshes of the breasts of my sorried Lucy in its ignorance and ungratefulness, taken aback by the miracles of Jesus, with his mistress, Magdalene the bloody harlot of the Jerusalem temple
Living within the pages of the bible, she now sits idle in the fine prints of the crusading guide, a true daily statesman who knows more about Kyebi and the Ghana Palava, indeed our chronicles will be centre spread in the daily graphic.
I remember her days with the kings of Ashanti, negotiating with nobles of Canterbury to abolish this racial extermination, powered against the determination of Yaa Asantewaa bearing a triple portion of the bitterness of Khalid Mohammed before Malcolm was hammered.
Left with nothing but the strength to reclaim and restore the glory of Nananom Adikanfo and the gods of our primordial emptiness, let's make it a business knitted into the alphabets of our little infants, and scripted on the KVIP walls in Konkonba Market.
Let the airwaves of the citi, adom, peace, and love bring us joy until we believe that everything is Okay .
