Categories
love

Pause for Love #love #valentine #wife #music

Hush! I hear the most beautiful music
From Earth, but akin to Heavenly praise
And wish this instant would last umpteen days
To cradle me in the notes nurtured by these muses.

The violin flows like velvet before my eyes
In gentle steps and dainty body wind;
Such motions as wrapt David’s mind
When moonlight lit a fire in his lustful iris.

The piano says such sweetness softly
In strong but measured wisdom bundles
To guard, advise, and love and cuddle
With honey melting within me like toffee.

The drums are loud in rhythm with mine,
Saying passion in metronomed kicks and snares.
With mine, the orchestra’s beyond the spheres
As both beats intertwine to weave these sweet lines.

Hush! pause this instant as I hold my love.
Pause only, let me hold my love forevermore.

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
sadness

Youth #age #nostalgia

I miss the days when each rock was a boulder,
When peeling off the skin of a cheese triangle
Decorated with a smiling cow was such a wonder.
I miss running up trees and around the concrete jungle
Aimlessly full of hope, happy to be life’s soldier,
Fighting for dad’s cause, adhering to mum’s angle.
I miss bewilderment at technical prowess in elementary solder
As the capacitors sprung back to life in that CRT National.
The world’s years are now heavy on mine and life’s such a ramble
At this stage where I can feel it all on my shoulder.

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
sadness

Rush #late #hurry #homeSick

I’m dreaming of a melody
Pulling me from sleep’s safe haven.
“Ding ding la-la ding” it sings
And my eyes seek the screen to swipe-to-snooze
But then the phone rings:
“Your lift is here sir”

What??4am already????
Quick, throw my underwear off,
Rush, pee, Brush
Turn the shower knob to wash
It’s cold! It’s hot! Too cold, not quite hot. Ok
Gel on the face cloth
Scrub, scrub, counting seconds in my head.
Rush, rush. Lotion. Deodorant.
Throw on my gear in haphazard layers.
No belt, won’t do my laces.
Rush, rush: I just can’t miss this flight home!

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
love

My Love #love

Soft the silky sheath in which God clothed your bones,
And sweet the smooth rich notes of your vocal tones
Whose content muses seek.
Oh! My heartbeat’s at its peak
When you’re near with your personality of scones.

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
anger

Let’s Get Rich #bokoHaram #alShabab #fakeIslam #fakeJihad #crime

Hey! Let’s go out there on a killing spree,
And loot, kidnap and fill our kitchen shelves
With bills from nations here and across the sea,
And diamonds, then weapons to protect ourselves.

Let’s find a bush wherefrom we’ll buzz then sting
And create routes through nobody could think
And in stealthy style steal their everything
Then plant scare as blood and powder stink.

Let’s mourn our dead as war counts their heads,
And hunt more silly heads to fill their beds
But how to go by this, despite the dread?
We must find a solution to keep earning this juicy bread.

Aha! Jihad’s incentive enough for youth to care:
Doing Allah’s work or risk His wrath for million years,
But to do His work means sweet blessings here
And paradise awaits after they’ve pulled your bier.

So say it loud, say it to the young and old:
“Fight for Allah as sacrifice or till you’re cold!”
But show them not our harems and stash of gold
For doubt could reduce the men in our hold.

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
anger

Jesus’s thoughts on Racism

Forget not Matthew 7: 3

What can you do with a speck?
Well, you can polish it and look good.
You can point it out, shout loud out let the world see how righteous you are and look good.
You can create a ban round the speck with others who saw the speck, and heck, you can change that part of the world and look good.

Even the stars can see the speck, no doubt
But is it really the Pareto choice with most clout?

I grew on tales of the evil white man with his long nose.
I grew reminded I'm a "nigger" and the whips will crack on my back, seize my foothold, banish my dreams, and tears pouring out my flat nose.
I grew on the black-washed history of the transatlantic slavery which tells of the buyer and torturer of my brothers for centuries and more.

I didn't hear of the North African slave trade, nor the Congo-Ghana one,
Nor the fact that "lenwa" in my village is a slave.
I didn't hear that Africans sold Africans for slavery but through Christian abolishment they earned better lives
I didn't hear that Eddie Murphy lives a better life than most Cameroonians, or that Lupita Nyongo won't have the same chances had she stayed on the continent.

I grew on the falsehood that a "nigger" like me cannot be racist
And that "White man, white man, white man with his long nose"
Is just fun as "Black man, black man, black man with his flat nose"
Would be.

Then I learnt that "nigger" is a bad word I learnt to rap to.
Then I learnt that I would be nothing, I would not get a job because of my skin colour.
Then I learnt that the white families who welcomed me didn't exist.
That my white friends were actually blacks in disguise...otherwise how could they be my friends?

And I shut my ears and eyes.

For while all were focusing on the speck of reparations
(Which should be paid only to children of slaves, by the buyers and
The African countries who committed the abomination of trading
Humans for whisky, guns and other silly gimmicks)
I'm looking at the plank of single parenthood,
Erosion of any viable belief system or value system
Widespread corruption, poor governance,
Electoral fraud, business fraud, educational fraud
Victim mentality and "reverse" racism...if such a word exists.

Racism is racism, and to see black and white and yellow and red and blue and purple on human skins is to be in a race on mushrooms.

I see one humanity, striving to make the present better than the past.
Striving to make this present prosperity pervasive and make it last.

(c) nyonglema

Categories
sadness

Once I held a gun #childSoldiers #stopWar

Once I held a gun in the bush.
That Ak47 was nearly my size but I lifted it.
I was fierce and fearless to my foes,
Taking their lives before they could reach for mine.

Yes, once I killed in the bush;
The men who protected their villages,
The women who protected their children,
The children who would avenge their orphan state.

At that time I was a hero in the army
So decorated by war wounds and scars
That pain became the objective of my existence
And transmitting it my only medicine.

Now I’m 16 years old and peace has killed the need for guns.
My grades and skill set mean nothing.
All left is the emptiness in the memories of maimed men,
Mothers, and children.What to do now?

AH…Once I was told taking lives was the life I needed,
But now I know there was much more to hope for.

Much more to aim AT than innocent targets in the bush

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
sadness

The Superior Race #racismSucks

So, which of the races rules over all
In quality, strength and crazy potential?
And how shall we distinguish this lot?
By skin? Hair?Gait? Manner of speech and thought?

Shall we find these noble ones and crown them
And give authority over the scum to their men?
Well in my search for the superior blood,
I’ve combed pages, heard ideas from myriad cords

And in conclusion all criteria are but earthly classification
Of something deeper in different forms of creation.
So to hell with your theories new, old, and your nays and nods,
The superior race is the race to God.

(c) Nyonglema