DO NOT DISTURB: HE IS IN A TRANCE

"DND: He Is in a Trance" is a collection of poems by Nana Kwadwo Agyei Addo, spanning from 2018 to the present. This anthology captures a diverse range of emotions and experiences, showcasing the author's poetic journey and evolution over the years. Through vivid imagery and expressive language, the poems delve into themes of introspection, identity, and the human condition, offering readers a profound and immersive literary experience.

Left at sea, yet I bloom

The cascade of torrents makes my thoughts sturdy,

for the depths of these waters have known more than you,

and they have swallowed greater than me,

So I gird my loins for our plot of lots.

Hero’s so-called, cowards of chance,

I was never considered,

I was led before the chancery of fate.

They declared me unfit and tired my hands.

My skin scarfed the rails of The Midas,

My fellow seamen made Anubias drown.

They left me at sea.

I gasped, for my countenance was broken,

and my tears covered the Tasman,

I died before I was embarrassed by purgatory.

There was still,

there was a calm.

Whispers of the Eternal

He comes in the night searching for love,

Someone to embrace someone to feel what He feels, a frozen heart or a warm embrace you decide.

He is a castaway, the one who transcends all time, the man whose words take some below and cause seeds to feast and flourish,

in some cases the earth Itself says He is the end of all time, He is time it’s self.

Some call Him a teacher, other know his as a servant, He may serve or be forced to be worshipped, He decides, He not fate but faith!

His arms we may all encounter, His face we will all behold, His stare we may freeze too, for His beauty captures the soul and cases the body to grow cold and weary.

For when He comes you will know that life was all but a glimpse of the shadows.

Because His love reveals the real light.

The people of old tell us that He has favorites and others He avoids like a plague.

He is a the plague, he is terror, He is everything you are preparing for, He is the unseen master who snatched all you have toiled for, He the suitor who murders his brides in the name of love.

Often misunderstood, maybe his kiss isn’t evil as we know but is life itself, because Death is the chief servant who opens the doors to the real life we are supposed to live.

Keep watch He lurks.

The Purist's Lament

Verily, the slothful yet hapless purist,

Who sought to act with precision, yet missed,

His mark of excellence, and plunged instead,

Into a snare of idleness, where he didst dread.

For every task presented, he didst spend hours

In cogitation, planning, and dreaming of the flowers,

Of triumph, which he might reap if he would try,

But then he wouldst become diverted, and time wouldst fly.

Thus, he didst lead a life of silent despair,

Observing others ascend, whilst he didst remain there,

Entrapped within his own mind, unable to break free,

From the shackles of his own diffidence, which held the key.

But oh, how he longed to be like those,

Bold souls who ne'er castigated themselves for their flaws,

But embraced them, and soared where others fled.

And in his heart, he knew that within him, lay the power,

To ascend beyond his dismal hour,

And take his rightful place among

The stars, where his worthiness hath ever belong.

So let us not judge the lazy, yet hapless,

For they too possess aspirations, and their desires are not fruitless,

To accomplish them, they need only to dare,

And take that first stride forward, to reach the summit with care.

Bite Your Teeth

Progress rewards the feet of the diligent,

Terror plagues the steps of the belligerent,

Fear may walk a little different,

But I never had legs.

Perseverance truly takes guts,

Failure’s weight is too much to stomach,

Rage feeds the mind and the soul,

But I never had a belly.

Life and death lie in the mouth,

Dread lingers at the tip of the tongue,

Yes, I swallowed my pride,

Because I never had teeth.

You think You Lived

The wind spoke volumes that night,

Her heart met me at the ruin of my art.

My desert eyes flowed oases,

and the death of my flesh came swiftly.

I pondered, what is the meaning?

Why does wisdom call me? What is Her need?

The lavished attention revolts my souls.

Weep mother for your son is dead.

For his heart no longer beats of sanity.

It lays desolate and bleeds at another’s command.

Weep father because your son is no more.

He threw away your teaching to pursue love.

Weep oo fallen being for your soul has been crushed by the malice of her members.

Never to be the same,

we cordially witness the cremation of our intentions and his hearts.

Never to be forgotten in the present and revoked by the past.

For He weeps because He is victim of His own demise.

We burn.

ALL HER DOING

All I ever felt,

Like shadows in the dark.

All I ever wept,

Tears like falling stars.

All I ever bleed,

No words to be said.

Nothing but the numbness,

A winter frost within.

Nothing but a void,

An abyss swallowing me whole.

Nothing but the loneliness,

No words to describe.

All life goes on, they say,

While I stand still.

All worlds still spin,

Yet I am lost in time.

All of your actions never mattered,

In a universe so vast and cold.

No me left,

Just echoes of what once was.

The first breath of death

Sautéed in the child like death, we bask in the seeming-less kerfuffle of regret.

At the edge of the deep we stare into our souls,

for we are plagued with memories of forgotten.

Men wither into forever, the thoughts of the great abyss.

A heart of mass and a cage of loneliness,

with which we share with our souls.

We are mindless romantics, lost creatures, for we lavish the destiny of tomorrow and long for the tears of yesterday. Time is forever, victims of necessity. The flatline of the earth, as it manifest in the dark. For who knows the depths of a man’s heart. None on the surface nor some below.

For we are puppets of our breath and light beams of contrast.

Man is the cave of the hallow cry’s, the barrow of true evil and desolation. They are seeds that die in minds eyes and strings of eternity, that rim shot into the great stars of fear.

For the man you love is gone and the child you bore is dead. He lay in your fears and on a bed of rot. I smile at the grey, for it holds the me, my truest self. The thorn of smiles and the grapevine of my tongue.