Free ebook Giveaway!


For a limited time only, download a free copy of Vincent Boateng’s latest poetry collection, “The Jesus I Know” in exchange for an honest review. Click on the link below to download your free copy now, and when you’re done reading the book, please write an honest review of it. Thank you.

Teach Me How To Love


Dear Lord I love u so
much more than my life does show.
I long to live for you,
but sin won’t let me do
what would prove my word as true.
Can you tell me why you do
the things you do for me
though my heart you see
is full of sin?
You’re a king,
but you chose to die in shame
for me knowing I won’t do same
for you. Will you teach me how to love?
Or do you love because you’re from above?
I know better than ask you this;
for you’ve taught me all there is
to know about love, even more than enough
by dying on the cross on my behalf.
Does it offend you that I lie
(and I know I deserve to die)
when I say that I love you
and yet hate many or a few?
Didn’t you say I should love my neighbor
as myself? Doesn’t it bother you that I harbor
hate? That I don’t love the least of these
and yet claim to love you, Lord of Peace?
Forgive me for my failings as I strive
to love like you. And help me to thrive
in your love, in your service, and in your worship.
Help me to understand my friendship
with you as a call to love and serve my fellow man.
Teach me how to love, O Son of Man!

From Vincent Boateng’s latest poetry collection, “The Jesus I Know,” now available on amazon.


Before This Life is Over


Look, the ones that died at birth, the
ones that were wiped out
by natural disasters, cancer
and other deadly diseases,
all these people
are gone, and I am older
and no more righteous than
most of them. So I’ll carry quietly
my cross, I’ll give thanks to God. I’ll rise
from sin and run
toward the throne of grace.
I’ll keep trying, against
all ridicule, against all setbacks,
against all failings.
I’ll look sin in the eye
and say, no.
Before this life is over, I’ll
sing the plain Truth, even in pure pain
till I can be heard in the low hills
that once shielded the lost.
I’ll stand firm and sing
for joy, for love, for peace, and
for light to take hold,
so that the child far from being born,
when he finally arrives, will not see
darkness but Light and
believe that it’s a new day,
that with a little effort, he could be saved.

From “The Jesus I Know,” now available at

The Consolation


It’s Monday morning again
and all around me on the subway, the blank faces
of rush-hour commuters. I look hard
for anyone with a smile to punctuate the blankness,
not a single one.

You’re not in this shithole alone so rid your mind
of utopia and self-pity, I say quietly to myself
as the apathetic train drags me
to a job I both loathe and feel lucky to have.

A few rows ahead corporate men in serious suits
doze off, happy for the narcosis
of books, Kindles and iPods. Others
carry coffee in paper cups, unable to drink them
thanks to the Washington Metro ridership rules.

When I finally disembark
and the escalator rolls me up into bright sunshine,
I search my thoughts for the consolation
that, come Friday,

which is now only four days away,
there’ll be at least one smile on the subway,
and it will be all mine, gingerly ushering me
into the long-awaited weekend.

From Vincent Boateng’s poetry collection “Fishing For a Poem” (available on

The Time is Now


So satan, having perfected
his deception skills in Eden
has fooled us again. The bull can now
mate with another bull, the nanny-goat
with another nanny-goat
while the guardians of the flock keep mum
and consciously fall asleep. The angel of darkness
is gathering his hammer force season after season,
tampering with the Master’s grand design.
Even Sodom, with hindsight is a holier land.

Perhaps on some drunken night, man fell
in love with sin and acted out its vices
until the common sin bored him.
So he started to explore its outer boundaries.
As if by some accident of conscience,
the wrong has grown so much
in likeness with the right that every –
almost every sin today is accepted as normal.
The ungodly have risen with their bullish blood
and the righteous have sunk into shadow.
And yet, in the iconographies of the mind,
Heaven takes its rightful place
as the final destination of the soul.

The time is now to awaken
the dead sun to shine on the exiled
conscience. The time is now for the exiled
Christian to return and begin the unraveling
of the Morning Star. Or it will be too late when
the trumpet sounds, and the red flag
of the most violent Summer
calls an end to the world’s
crude and sinful passions.

From Vincent Boateng’s upcoming poetry collection “The Jesus I Know.”

You’re My Hero


Today, I’m unhooking my jaw. I’m telling you
everything I’ve always wanted to tell you.

Because I don’t tell you often enough
that you’re my hero, I’ll pick up
the only trumpet I own –
my voice. I’ll stand high on
the pedestal of love,
and announce loudly to the four
corners of the earth that you’re my hero.

You planted the seed that formed me. You stood
up to the task and became my dad.

And ever since,
you’ve loved me like the blood that runs
through your veins. You’ve protected me like
the ribcage that protects your heart.
You’ve fed me better than your own stomach.
You’ve given me the ladder of a good education,
and encouraged me to reach up for the stars.
You’ve taught me the difference between right and wrong,
and insisted that I always do what’s right.
You’ve given me the example of your own life,
and kept me in line whenever I’ve strayed.
You’ve cheered for me at every hurdle in life,
and picked me up whenever I’ve fallen.

Yet, I don’t tell you often enough
that you’re my hero.

Happy Father’s Day!