Live in the moment and die tomorrow
Nights come to me with the eyes of sorrow
dreaming of a night without the horror
Asking if there wont be horror
Nights come to me a beg for time
Pleading for the chances of their forebears
Cos the sins they share, but not the joys
The war trophies now turned to toys
Wall hangings of degrees they gained with ease
Seductively posing seeking to tease
On  higher echelons they’re Suffering from disease
whiskers tickle their conscience
Mind set on mind sets that increase their prospects
The hand that reaches out lives the longest
The man that senses make sense  in the dense lense of life that make them tense
Words of a martyr yet to be born
The strings of reality already torn

Tuff Assassin

i’m a man

The Lost Scrolls

I’m a man
Not cos my armpit smells after jogging
Or my penis is erect in the morning
Or I put meaning and depth in this story
I’m a man
Not cos my ribs be uneven
Or my hairline be receding
Or my dad looks at me to be leading
I’m a man
Cos I was inspired to write this after listening
To the words of an afro american christian
I’m a man
Not cos I’m attracted to the female curvature
Or pee looking over a curvature
Or wherever that’s just nature
I’m a man
Not cos I don’t fit a definition
Or flee from a compromising situation
Or find meaning in this rendition
I’m a man
Cos my name begins in capital
And I write this for capital
Or at least make it in the capital
I’m a man
Not cos of the hair around my mandible
Or the…

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My Muse



My muse
No make up, yellow hair band
Her voice makes the hair on my neck stand
Her smile melts my heart like “candles in the sun”
My muse
From afar i noticed her
Outstanding, a bald spot on a mans hair
Her perfect skin, non can compare
Her beauty is greater than all wealth stocks
Quiet and reserved she hardly talks
My muse
When will my courage overwhelm me for me to approach you
I hope no other eye will poach  you
My muse
To you we are just members in the same institutional arrangement
To me your my salvation from a tempest, a romantic estrangement
My muse
At our next meeting I’ll try and make meaning
I’ll do something bold with my feelings
My muse
my heart awaits yours

Tuff assassin

highlight of my year


Highlight of My Year…So Far

               Yesterday, something extra-ordinary happened. I attended a social event. LOL. It’s not extra-ordinary, but odd to me because social events are not things I fancy.

               I received a very emotionally troubling but exciting phone call from my mum the day before telling me that Achimota School wanted to honour me with a prize. Man was I surprised! Me? Hakeem? Prize? For what? She didn’t say. I knew I had worked hard in school but a prize? Wow this was getting exciting.

              I was naturally hesitant to attend primarily because the experience was new to me, I wasn’t a mediocre student nor was I failing. I maintained a high standard back in high school and I still do (too bad WAEC don’t agree). I excelled but never to the extent of being recognized and rewarded. After hours of persuasion by my family I finally decided to attend. After all what go possibly go wrong? I would just pick up my award, smile and wave, shake a few hands then its back to my boring old life.

             It was the first time I was entering Achimota since I completed in May. The atmosphere was never foreign but the feel was different. Somewhat nostalgic and reminiscent. My family and I took our seats and waited patiently. After a few boring and some entertaining speeches, the prize winners began to file to the podium like worker ants. Time passed. I was beginning to doubt if my name would be mentioned. I was scared I must confess. Then I heard “… Dr. Akosua Perbi prize for the final year OUTSTANDING STUDENT IN HISTYORY – HAKEEM ADAM. I was shocked out of reality, in a trance…. No! I picked myself up and walk to the podium, smiled (small) accepted it, said thank you proudly and it was all over.

          Initially I didn’t care about the prize. After all what? I was just a book. Then it struck me, hard! All the days and nights learning, all the time and resources invested, all the sacrifices made had been appreciated. It was a really humbling experience. Truly so. It also made me realize that the only sure way to success, not fake success but responsible, respectable proud success is hard work.

         If this feels like I’m rubbing it in your face, the…well…all I can say is…..YEAH!!! This is the first of many, allow me to brag. Don’t be bitter about it. Just remember that it never came easy. AT ALL. Don’t be fooled, hard work pays.  Thank you




Now to my acceptance speech which I never had the opportunity to read:

·         First I’d like to thank Allah (not because everybody thanks him but because truly without him this wouldn’t have been impossible.

·         I’ll like to thank my family, there contribution to this is un- mentionable. I really appreciate it.

·         I’ll like to thank my friends, my classmates y’all helped.

I’ll like to thank Dr. Akosua Perbi for the prize. I really appreciate it.

      The highlight of my year……so far!!!



Hakeem Adam

Tuff assassin


I Have A BIG problem

Today in a lecture, someone passed a comment that we write to please the reader.
     I found this extremely disturbing. If writing to please the reader is the aim of writing then i think there is no point in it. I know that it is essential to allow your audience understand the message you want to put across, but i don’t think it is necessary to write with the aim of pleasing.
        In my opinion writing is a very personal act. The one way  i am able to bring out my true feelings from the dark Abyss to the bright gardens. Writing(poetry) is the only way i give myself a voice
           I can never ever understand why someone will therefore write with the aim of pleasing. Although we try to hide it, everyone seeks validation in this troubled world. I don’t seek validation. Rather i seek respect. RESPECT. I write with the aim that my thoughts and opinions will be respected, appreciate and heavily criticized.
         This is not a rant, but my honest opinion. No one should write to please but rather to express. I expressed my views!

Hakeem Adam 

The Shouts Of A Madman

Why are you trying to dehumanise your self,
Denying your being of joy and happiness
Just because you love me
And society won’t let you?
Why are you causing us all this pain
By refusing to admit the spark exist
And subject yourself to the brutalitis of the world?
Just to maintain sanity?
If sanity be the tune, the world place then I’ll dance not!!!
For my heart dance to the tune  your heart plays
Which is greater than the black gold deposited underneath 
I’ll rather by happy with this insanity that is engulfing me
Than to think of a life without loving you
The MANA turns into sand and is thrown into my eyes
I pray to the Most High for comfort from the sky

Tuff Assassin


Drum language for the faint hearted, you hear it loud and clear
Maybe you don’t, you just tripping of the sounds that’s you hear
Or maybe you choose to ignore ’em cos baby you fear
That the thought of the Message will bring you to tears
Drum language for the short, is the sound distorted ?
Or baby are you just being dishonest ?
Or you’re allowing sanity to eclipse the prospects
Drum language for the Akan hero, the beat has changed
So why baby is your stance the same?
Oh i get it, you don’t wanna be insane
I respect your decision, I’ll allow you to play
Drum language for Akua, a blessing to me
I’m enjoying the fruits of my own seed
I love you B that’s something that will for ever be
I’m in a happy space so I’ll let you B
Drum language, drum language who is playing the sounds
Can he or she allow a nigga to be sound?

Tuff Assassin