Talking with bullets? Lose-Lose #Cameroon

It was easier before:
    The cock crowed, Jesus turned, the tears flowed
    The cock crowed, I turned, and the shower flowed
    The cock crowed, luck turned, and tears flowed.

Easy solutions were easy to get while things were easy
But nine stitches rhyme with nine lives in their sick essay,
So time stitched hell and instead of being stitched in time
The fabric gaped open to swallow into its darkened slime
The baby, the bath water, the room, the parents, the villagers,
The fires, the char, the innocent, the pillaged, the pillagers.

It was easier before:
    But we always want more, and the tears flow
    But we always want war, and gun showers flow
    But we always taunt luck, and the tears flow.

Easy solutions were easy to get but Greed’s chains are titanium
Laced in a diamond lattice tying down the maestro of pandemonium.
The constitution had saved once, but those promises fell into the slime
Stitched by hell to cut workers’ pockets to benefit organised crime
Where everybody wants favour, everybody seeks the power to sign
At the expense of kids’ futures, mothers and fathers crying.

It was easier before:
    But now I need a visa, and I may not go
    But now I need a visa, to live in my own home
    But now I need a visa, to live.

Easy solutions will be easy to get where competence is worth any
But everybody wants favour, so logic took a stray bullet in the alley
And Cameronians closed their eyes on children crying
Everybody closed their eyes to the economy slowly dying
As if we were not one! I say we are one, and this war cannot be won
Until we become truly one: citizens, leaders (citizens), doing all to brighten the sun

It was easier before:
    But now everybody is strapped, like that fixes anything
    But now everybody is trapped like they can’t fix anything
    But you wear your ego like that fixes anything!

It is still easy now:
Let’s get back to being humans, talking with humans.
                  fixes everything

(c) nyonglema

Blocked #writersBlock

Writer’s block is writing blocks all over me
To the point that worlds of words whirl
Round my head, enticing, yet I’m hyperbole
Of silence, absence. The blank page beckons
At muses from Italy, Stratford ‘pon Avon, the sea
And more, yet I’m nature’s tantrum in a tea cup.
I blame the clock: it’s inner workings have slowly
Robbed me of potential to let the ink rave
Over time, I’ve stood, poring at its inconsistency
Writing bullet and burn holes over all hope
And plunging the madness into deeper fallacy
While the Maker’s tears pour over a forsaken breed.
And I pause to breathe, wish to utter but heave.
I blame the clock. Looking up at it in early years,
I saw shadows of joy, but shadows? I didn’t understand it.
So, the words whirl and twirl me, and I’m drowning,
Deeper, drowning in a silent absent blanket.

(c) nyonglema

His first poem #NatureIsSpeaking @conservationorg

I still remember him reciting this when he was 4 years old, now he’s writing his own words…so proud…


The little icons play games on the phone screen,
As my little monster muses playing Subway Surfers,
His new drug, my new bane.
Well we parents are keen
To teach him how to live through all life offers
In words, hugs and a cane,

If necessary. I grab the phone like to grab his attention
Fleeting from object to object like bees in a meadow.
But really I did,
I grabbed his attention,
Turned it to the page opening up poetic knowledge’s window
In words unhid,

Yet unknown to me yet. Simple words he must recite
To mum and dad, and Mr Grumpy tearing through age three
Happy to have the phone
Not even turning right
To see the first performance of the object of sibling rivalry
And true friendship shown.

If all the seas…“, I interrupt the poet rudely
Mouth hanging on the words, longing to…

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Genocide is just a word

As the 1st of October draws near, this is what I’m thinking about…


Happy celebration Cameroon

It all starts with the “genos” part:
? ?If there’s no race, it doesn’t exist
?? So history gets braided into little kids’ hairs
?? Till they remember only the victor’s tryst
?? With death, in order to save our forebears
?? For graves never wrote history. A cyst
?? Of truth is hidden deep where the death of fear
?? Meets the death of youth at the barrel to the sun.
?? Lifafa is wiped with the shroud of Um
?? Till “genos” is but a word in beach sand.

And with no “genos” there’s no “cide” :
?? Self defence is the panacea of every atrocity
?? Little children with gaping brains
?? Young girls’ cocoons bitterly maimed
?? Young boys disappear to be brutally tamed
?? Humanity at the end of life gets hastened
?? And propaganda is Elvis doing a pirouette
?? On…

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The Monkey Series: David and the Painter by Balla (8y old)

Once, David the monkey was breakdancing in the woods. Then he saw a building; he asked himself: “What type of building is that?” when he went closer he saw it was a painting shed. The painter was Peter the evil dinosaur. Peter wanted to trap the heroes to take over the world.

David asked: “Please may you paint a picture of me?”.

Peter said: “No, unless you give me a dollar.” He needed a dollar for his machine to work to trap the heroes because when he is painting he was actually turning gears for the trap. David knew his plans, so he said: “Team Jungle, I need you guys!” Suddenly all of his friends came.

There was Tornado Flash, Basher, Undercover Car, Pouncer etc. Tornado Flash made the fastest tornado. He does that when he is angry because Peter has an evil plan. Basher bashed the shed. It fell in the terrible ocean where sharks live. The heroes decided to make a plan to trap Peter instead. Undercover car scared Peter, he landed on a trampoline. Peter bounced really high. Pouncer jumped and pushed Peter even further and it was the right time because Peter’s cage was going to trap Peter. Peter said, “You’ve not seen the last of me team jungle!”

The animals and the people thanked Team Jungle for saving the city in the woods.

The End

(c) balla

The Monkey Series: David and the dinosaur by Balla(8y old)

Once, there was a monkey called David who was taking a stroll in the forest. Then, he saw a gigantic dinosaur called Peter, but Peter was evil.
So, David said: “Please may you tell me the way to the Magical Desert?” Peter said: “I know but I won’t tell you!” So, David did this: he jumped did a backflip in the air and kicked the evil dinosaur. The dinosaur fainted on the ground in the river. So, David had to look for the Magical Desert himself.

He looked in every place he knew but couldn’t find it. So, he used his GPS, but his GPS could not find it. So he used a machine called the Knower. It knew every place David was in. So, he used it to find the Magical Desert, but it stopped working. He thought he was in the Magical Desert, when he was in it.

He made magic, and it worked. He was happy because he was in the Magical Desert.
The end.

(c) balla