Why I can’t love you

Hey D.C.
Don’t you hate me
I got a lot of stress now
And I can’t be
Coming around you every time
You been spending all my dimes
I don’t really think that you love me

D.C. above refers to Dansoman Community, a neighborhood within the City of Accra. The City of Accra is the Administrative, Commercial and Judicial Capital of the Republic of Ghana. It has expanded rapidly and engulfed neighboring towns, now even exceeding the boundaries of the Greater Accra Region of which it also Regional Capital.

And Kumasi
We may get messy
You be my Barcelona
Give you best feat
I’ve been taking time to grow
I’ve been breaking
I be broke
I don’t really think that you love me

Kumasi (or Kumase), now capital of the Ashanti Region, is the ancient capital city of the pre-colonial Asante Empire. It is still the capital of the (much smaller) Asante Kingdom; centered in Manhyia which loosely translates to “where the State/Kingdom meets”.

Hello Tema
Let’s be real Ma
You been by backbone
I’ve just been a tumor
Maybe I’ve been doing things
That and seven deadly sins
And Now
I really don’t think you should love me

Tema, close to the City of Accra, is the home of the Tema Harbour. A planned community project by Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah, it also sits right squarely on the Greenwich Meridian.

Tell me Kof Town
Can we get down?
On the other hand
I’ll just be a let down
I pluck your flowers errday
But I won’t be here to stay
I really don’t think I can love you

Koforidua, aka Kof Town, is the highest Regional capital in Ghana (Capital of the Eastern Region). It is also said to have the densest distribution of beautiful girls in Ghana; Koforidua’s Flowers.

Hey Cape Coast
What you don’t know
Won’t kill you
It’s been tough since Gold coast
You got a lot of honeys
Needing a lot of money
I got nothing so you’ve been a no show

Cape Coast was once known Cabo Corso.  It was the original capital of the Gold Coast before the capital city was moved to the City of Accra.

And Tamale
What’s the hurry?
We’ve been hanging out
Since Atari
We been to a lot of parties
You have been my favorite lady
But you haven’t yet told me you love me

Tamale, formerly adminstrative Capital of the Northern Territories of the Gold Coast, is the flattest City in Ghana. It is now capital City of the Northern Region.

Tell me Sunyani
Why you always talking money
So you’re industrious
But you’re not very funny
You can’t follow any jokes
You don’t understand ‘bespoke’
How did you ever think that I could love you?

Sunyani is said to be the cleanest City in Ghana. It’s also close to the historical town of Techiman, once center of the Gyaman State, the spiritual home of all Akan tribes including the Asante, Fante and Baoulé.

Slim as a hangar
I like slim
But you remind me of hunger
I put a baby in your oven
Then you gave it to a coven
I’m way too scared to even love you

Bolgatanga, aka Bolga, is another Ancient Ghanaian settlement. It was at the southernmost tip of Trans-Saharan trade during the Pre-colonial era.

Pretty young Wa
You’re too young girl
Don’t even come closer
You are just a little sister
Really nice to meet you
You are lovely but I can’t love you

Wa, brackets with Ho as one of the places in Ghana with the shortest place-name. It also shares with Bolga, the honour of being one of Ghana’s youngest Regional Capitals

And then we come to…
Technically, A Ho
I know you’ve changed
But history is ugly
Get me wrong or get me right
I really do not mind
You and I?
Never. We can’t be

Ho and it’s nearby sister city Hohoe were originally part of Togoland, a German territory ceded to the British and the French after the first world war. The British bit (Trans-Volta Togoland) voted to join Ghana after independence as the Volta Region.

O so naughty
You’ve been my girl
But you can’t be my wifey
Mom and Daddy both complain
They say,
This your girl she is insane
I am sorry. I cannot love you

Takoradi, aka T’adi, is twin-town to neighbouring Sekondi (even though Takoradi is smidge bigger). Together, the two towns form the City of Sekondi-Takoradi, capital city of Ghana’s Western Region


Please make time to click here and check out my fictional work on Wattpad


Red is a Christmassy Color

The final part of the first Tetrad of The Rising was supposed to come out yesterday. Unfortunately, I had data connection and editing issues. This means it’s being released today instead.

I don’t have much time to actually write a blog post today but here’s a sneak preview of the draft cover for the next scene:


That red stuff… not necessarily macabre. Red is a Christmas color too you know.

The new cover has almost the same color scheme as the first Tetrad cover (plus or minus a little hint and hue and a whole lot of black):


I decided to use a different format for each cover, the same way the writing styles in each new part are switched around. I look forward to stretching the limits of font and imagination!

Check out the complete Tetrad 1


Merry Christmas!

Peace be unto you.

Old Post: Fiendish Detachment

I ate an unhealthy amount of fermented milk this morning. This has nothing to do with the days post whatsoever, just thought it was important somehow.  It’s all good though, I ate an equally unhealthy amount of babies to mop up all that milk…[insert suitably evil laugh].

“Yoghurt and a cheese sandwich is the breakfast of champions” methought, when I woke up this dark and dismal morning…

Bad idea.

The yoghurt was slightly off and the cheese (made by a certain wicked corporation which refuses to quit milking the endangered laughing cow, bos grinon-idyoticalus) was hard enough to crush diamonds with. Meal of champions my ASS (Applied Sciences Society)!

Luckily, even though I am not tall enough to be irresistibly appealing to the fairer sex, I am not short enough to get constant heartburn (I am dark and handsome though, two out of three ain’t bad I guess).

Back to the topic (coincidentally the title of a video made for filibusters, politicians and women’s rights campaigners… and several others including apparently one that would get me slammed for being ‘anti-semetic’… … … oops).

My free thesis today is on a particularly curious trend that grows curiouser and curiouser every year. The plague on trial is social, physical, psychological and Freudian (not really, just thought that it would be a nice time to spice up my post with a bit of psychoanalytic babble). Curiousest of all, it seems to target the young more than the aged, a kind of reverse stroke/cardiovascular problem/brittleness of bones thing. I call the disease, detachment (pronounce it like you’re French; “dey-tach-man”, if you feel like being posh and expert-like).

Detachment, the curious situation which results from a curiouser attachment to personal digital devices and deprives a naturally gregarious homo sapien of his social instinct. The affected specimen (a close biological relative of the chitter-chattering, flea-picking, ass-sniffing primate known as the chimpanzee) loses all the real social interactivity which is characteristic of its biological family: gossip (chitter-chattering), tactile contact (flea-picking) and ass-kissing (the only kind of gregarious contact in which our species skill had exceeded the lowly chimp).

There are varying levels of affliction. Victims vary between acute: constantly listening to music on phone/walkman/ipod with one earbud occasionally ostentatiously placed outside of its biological receptacle…

To chronic: simultaneously tweeting, BBing/IMing and listening to music…

And to tragically fatal: simultaneously tweeting, BBing/IMing, listening to music with music-studio type beats by dre headphones, iphone gaming AND facebooking

My fellow researchers (buddies and gal pals) posit that although addiction to social media is a symptom of detachment, the severity of affliction is independent of the degree of the symptom. Simplified for weaker readers; addiction to social media doesn’t necessarily equate with detachment.

Detachment is more like a kind of new era pseudo-autism. In an online society where you are judged by your photo-shopped profile pics, retweeted smarts and ‘number-of-strangers-I-know’, it’s much easier to feel superhuman. We have essentially stored part of our psyche; our essential persona and most importantly our self-esteem in cyberspace (see how many of us started hyperventilating when we heard rumours about facebook shutting down… life hard oo!).

Kinda reminds me of my reflections after watching that movie with the ‘yippie ka-yay mother******’ dude… Smel Ribson or something; Surrogates. Whilst the compatriots who were almost as deep as paper [sarcasm] said “duhh, I don’t get it” and those who were much smarter than themselves [inverted sarcasm] thought “pshht! That stuff is impossible, ah! See obroni (white man), lying as always, awam nkoaa”. I took time to stew and realized that that was me, or more accurately, that was us.

We interact through surrogates now. At least in the movie Smel didn’t forsake tactile contact like we’ve begun to. We’re so afraid of injuring not our bodies, but our psyches, that we project ourselves as ‘mighty mighty’ (see award winning comedy producer, Chuck Lorre’s Mike and Molly S1 Ep. 1) on a plane in which we really can’t exist.

Enough of the serious stuff though, heard the term cyber cahoneys? (balls, big-boys, guts, chutzpah, grits, vim, ani3den etc.). Noticed lately how full of beans people can seem on the socialweb, and then how lame they actually are in life… nuff said. I’m not saying I’m excluded though, wish I could say that I’ve actually talked to even 50% of the hot girls on my facebook friend list!

I am only concerned about detachment because of its implications for humanity. In a world with; environmental problems, a widening gap between rich and poor, widespread poverty, discriminatory hate and crime, doesn’t this plague remove the fix-it generation from the world crises?

It’s a further decomposition of what I like to call the human tele-empathic trait; ‘feelin’ the pain of anotha brotha’. The effect could be tragic (not counting the loss of the next Einstein as he crosses the street lost in his ipod playing at ‘public broadcasting’ volume levels).

P.s. I seriously miss the good ol’ days when a fella with real cahoneys could hit on a hot girl whilst in transit in public transport, nowadays they’re all on their BB machines going tick-tick-tickity-tick at 120 LPM (lols a minute). Let’s not even talk about the evils of the iphone… an app with instructions to fix every possible PC error?! Horrors, now there’s not gonna be any more fixit calls! (distant cousin to the booty call).


Give Me Love – Poetry in Two Tongues

The Following poem was actually written in my local Language, Akan/Twi. The Translation below it embodies as much as possible, the feelings of the original words, as well as trying to maintain some form of poetic meter.

Spelling guide:

  1. ae – pronounced as if you’re saying the letter ‘i’
  2. ó – Like the o in god
  3. gy- a soft j sound, like in jerk
  4. ky – like the ‘ch’ in chips
  5. é – eh, like literally, saying eh. Or the e in keg
  6. hw – like the schw in schweppes (that is literally the closest sound I could think of).


Ódó kasa
na mengyae su
firi sé wonkoaa
na wo fata me do
hó ne hó yi deé
mempé o
ka kyeré me o
ka kyeré me o

Continue reading

Stronger: Version 1

[insert sample from Ne-Yo hit single, ‘So Sick’]

[sampled] I’m stronger

Oh yes I is
my grammar may be off
but understand just this
I hit hard and I don’t  miss
Just like this miss I kissed
and I’ma do it just like this
show you how we is…

[sampled] I’m stronger

And I was born in this town
Sun will shine everyday town
Rain might fall anyway town
So I know how it might go down
That might mean right now
So I don’t slow down
[sampled] I’m stronger

Heart pumps blood like a piston
Mind shoots sharp like a Wesson
and I ain’t stressing
I’m just proclaiming my blessing
African child and I’m repping

[sampled] I’m stronger

Oh yes I is
My skin may be black
Don’t mean that my mind is
and you will never pin me in,
Cos I’m as bad as sin
Hit me hard
but I keep up my chin

[sampled] I’m stronger

Oh yes I is
so I wrapped it up
and brought it back to your crib
Just a little something
Show you how I think
so connect the dots and form the link

[sampled] I’m stronger
I’m stronger than this

Review Cheats—Shameful Author Behaviour

Watch out for this scam. I hope Amazon & Co. find some way to block spam-reviewers.

Dionne Lister - Author

Hey, peeps. I haven’t done a ranty post in a while, but ranty Dionne is back! I find getting this stuff out of my system by writing it down helps, and why not educate readers and other authors while I’m at it. Today’s post is all about the wonderful world of authors scamming the Amazon system to trick unwary readers into buying their books.

I must state right out that I may be 43, but I’m naive, to a degree. Whatever I do, I do it honestly, with passion, and to the best of my ability, so it really comes as a shock to me when I discover people scamming the system. Writing has been my biggest passion of all (aside from my family). Ever since I was maybe nine or ten, I knew I wanted to be an author, and I’ve spend a good part of my 30s up…

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On Diversity

I agree with the general direction of the post. Even though diversity is a nice thing, writing will always the reflect the writer.
It’s the “Write what you know” paradigm.
Geeks write geek fiction, funny people write the best humorous fiction etc. It’s the reason why in US sci-fi is American centric and Japanese Anime is Japan-centric.

On that point though, cognisance must be taken of the fact that Japanese Anime, for a country which is clearly less diverse, represents significant character diversity when compared to Western Cartoons (including black and european characters).
It IS true that even for western SFF that is set on a global scale, global representation can be extremely skewed for no good reason.
As a teen I was irritated by Julian May’s Galactic Mileu – So many world cultures and yet the cultural identities with the strongest Psychics (Irish, Polish and French/Franco-American) were all caucasian! Tell me that isn’t skewed.

I think for diverse writing, what we need to look towards is diverse authors and artistic freedom during formative years.
Stereotyping is real and it does affect the type of fiction a budding writer is pushed towards writing. As an African writer I am continually given subtle pressure to write something ‘real’ and political after the nature of great African writers.
Freedom of expression and growth needs to apply to authors as well – even to the extent of crossing over or colouring our work with other genres.

Diversity in writing isn’t an ailment in itself, it’s merely a symptom of a larger social shortcoming.