Cry My Beloved Country

When I remember Terry Bonchaka
and how he left with a trillion talent
When I remember Ebony, the "Maame Hwɛ" Hit maker
then death,becomes our marking scheme on planet.
when I recall how Kwame Owusu Ansah, The African Child left the scene,

then the memories of yesteryears keep swallowing me.

For three days now, my sorrowful pen has refused to write

my moaning has reached a skyscraping height.
The creative Ebony is gone
and the entertainment world look forlorn.
Tears keep filling the dried Volta
for a lady who has passed away quickly as MTN data.

is there any instrument that measure tears?
or is life about the length of our years?
watching this creative flower wither swiftly in pain,

leaves in us a a sea of sadism that none can contain.

Only God knows the music still sleeping in her
indeed, never has life been fair.
The grave is going to be musically rich
after Hawking away such a creative fish.
I pity the mother that travailed in agony
as she watch death sweeping away her Ebony
I pity the father, who sees this lad
as the joyful product of his blood.
I pity her manager, who will be the object of suspicion

in a world bathed by bounty waters of superstition
Send a bird to bring us your next song
For our ears can't hunger for long.
Fare thee well, dancehall supremo
perhaps in this drama of life, you played a cameo.
Fare thee well energetic elegant Ebony
fare thee well on your unprepared journey
Poet-Shaddy