My Cup of Tea ranks 1391 in Africa and 865 in South Africa. According to site visitors it ranks 1370, and 1465 according to page views:
According to blogroll links it ranks 4310 and 4220 according to the amount of links within Afrigator blog posts
The cruel tricks that life ever playsThe games of chance he dearly fraysPerpetual winner he never vowsGlorious trophy ever in his pawsTrailing voices all aroundDiminishing choices set aboundTensionContentionThe valiant ones amongst them sayHold sturdy for yet another dayBeyond the sighs the victory songsRays of hope on redeeming tonguesSacrificial patienceAnimated nationsSteely-eyed
Living outside the borders of Ghana, as I do, one of the few self-preserving delusions I allow myself to harbor and indulge in regularly is this puritanical and idealistic image of Ghana and Ghanaians-the feel-good this-type-of-sh*t-can-never-happen-in-Ghana lines, refrains and pretences Ghanaians so love to carry like a badge of honour.Perhaps,
It is said by those who really know their stuff that, a woman on an average day can spit out approximately 6000 words with ease.This is a remarkable feat judging by the fact that most men can barely manage 2000 words in the same time span.That means, in simple proportions,
It is said by those who really know their stuff that, a woman on an average day can spit out approximately 6000 words with ease.This is a remarkable feat judging by the fact that most men can barely manage 2000 words in the same time span.That means, in
Living outside the borders of Ghana, as I do, one of the few self-preserving delusions I allow myself to harbor and indulge in regularly is this puritanical and idealistic image of Ghana and Ghanaians.The feel-good this-type-of-sh*t-can-never-happen-in-Ghana lines, refrains and pretences Ghanaians so love to carry like a
A demented bigoted boreCold-hearted and frozen to the corePerched on a wall in the neighborhoodWith a penchant for war against negrohoodStill living in the bubble of apartheid's pampered airsHe dishes out generous loads of unimaginable slursThose favoured with continental pigment are his stokeHaving lost his bread and butter to
It takes just a second, two or perhaps threeto smileto winkto waveto say Hito look into my eyesto let me know I stand a chanceto say I love you There are 86 400 seconds in a day and over 31 536 000 in a year. So what
On this side of the political wastelandThe real unending terrain of utter depravitySustained purely by auspicious idealismIn a world ofUnfettered neighbourlinessObscene warmthColourCultureHumanityGreat FriendshipsGenuine selflessnessGifts of beautiful smilesAnd little elseBut chronic angerAtThat side of the divideThe mundane world of the privilegedInhabited by sub-souls devoid of ubuntuDriven by rat race
There is somethingTo be said about a happy heartIn my dream the other dayI was walking alone on this pathUnsureConfusedThenFrom within I heard it clearThe lucid voice sayingSing a songHype a balladGive voice to your heartSuddenlyHymns of contentment flowingI am standing in million circles of desireBeing baptized with favours
Last nightOn the way to bedI looked at the picture on the wallWas greeted by the satisfaction in your eyesAnd arrested by the redeeming contours of your smileAnd desire summoned me to your sideThis morningAs you slept by my sideI stole a glance at the picture on the bedThe
Not following anyone at the moment.
