All posts by nyonglema

I love to write to inspire, to salvage and to heal. I believe there's power in word and language that can cure all the ills which take away human love an life. Keep reading, you'll find yourself.
joy

Life #smile

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You don’t know when it starts nor ends
But you must live it in twists and bends.
No manual robotises your daily experience
And no theory can predict weakness or resilience.
The people you meet cannot immediately tell whence
Your smiles or tears come, nor can you theirs.
It’s just life,complex yet simple, loving yet painful,
Misunderstood yet so simple, from dirt to dining tables
And you must live it, good or bad, fun or scare,
And smile all the way, catching the wind in your hair.

(c) nyonglema

anger

399.99 #Libya #neoSlavery

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In November more than 230 years ago a letter changed the course of history.
Lady Middleton inked hope in the heart of a British speck,
And no matter how small it saw itself, and made protest
The cause was so big that the Hope she sowed seemed 300 against Persian military.
Lil’ Bill set out to change the world before his eyes
That man wished to make men see in other men their brothers,
Like hounds view spaniels, or poodles, or chihuahuas,
And to think we’re supposed to be the smarter of the creatures.
Well, William Wilberforce, along with many intelligent beings
Set out to explain to humanity what animals already knew.

Today I feel sorry for him
That the lessons he fought for flew to forgetfulness.
I feel sorry, that it actually got worse.
I feel sorry that…I used to think I was worth “Priceless”.
That’s what dad and mum told me, we can’t buy you:
Protect your eyes, they have no price.
Protect your hands, protect yourself, you have no price.
USD 400, EUR 400, GBP 350, YUAN 3 125, XAF 260 k.

Print me a tag, stick me in a Home Depot store as an accessory
I’m more economical than a Roomba.
Pass it through my earlobe,who needs a jackhammer to build
When you can get me, and for cheap?
Stick it on my forehead, and put me in a sex shop,
I’m cheaper than all you can buy.

Thank you Wilberforce, you tried to make puppies in a pound less important than humankind in the hearts of humans unkind.
But those wear Prada, while HUUUUUUUMMMMAAANs starve to death, while humans are traded when they hit rock bottom, while water takes human life.

Well I just wanted to say that I’m for sale too, like my brothers and sisters who lost hope and sought hope in a lion’s den.
Well they say if you see an antelope running towards a lion pride, then wherever it was before must have had a Terminator – Alien – Predator hybrid…or worse.

So before I’m sold, this speck says to African “leaders”…:
Thank you <insert insult here>, You’re just doing what your predecessors did. Reducing our citizens to slavery through your silly greed. You’re the AIDS of our continent from which all kinds of ills take away our future…
You’re …mostly pathetic.

Ok, please buy me now, Paypal, Visa or just cash…399.99, please.

(c) nyonglema

Tears, tears, all I have to pour on where we have come due to the greed of the world powers, and the active participation by African leaders in making a bad situation even worse…God help us

sadness

Something fishy #discrimination

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My colleague wants the Art of Zen, in French of course
Translated from Japanese…I suppose, for they started it.
But she wants it from the UK…I’m like: “That’s horse –
Shopping in the middle of the ocean…they’re more likely
To stock it in English, you see. But I’ll search in Italy”.
Then, I find myself in Dakar at some point, and while walking
In the mall, a bookstore calls to me. I go toward it.
They don’t have it, neither here nor at Mermoz. But the thing
That hangs on my brain like a shroud, while the lady pours
Out the information is the fact that English books are here.

Think about it: this is an all French country, colonised
By France, having spent all their lives with them.
They had books in English, and games too …to my surprise.
Then I asked myself about other countries, which should be
Carrying these as standard, where books would be
In every stall in 2 languages as per their constitution.
And my heart sunk. I felt pain for every single one of them
In such countries, where language replaces skin’s function
In the minds of those who wear hate like a hat I despise
And cower to the custody of morbid segregation and fear.

Well, prejudice is a but a bug in the universe’s most infant app
And it takes mere (not sheer) will to wipe it off our map.

Take up your napkins boys…it only seems hard.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

At the gate #missingYou

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So many faces, but none of them is you.
You know this feeling of the crowd anonymously many
And the voices I want to Shazam, for none of them is yours.
My plane is late again, and this pain lingers on
Like a foul smell in the air. I wish to be airborne
That I know you’re not a car ride away
That I’d know that I can’t hold you for good reasons
That the sword may go through the heart and kill me
Than linger over my chest like a purgatory leading to hell.

The pain will come, the pain will run as long as I’m not near holding you here, kissing you there, telling you that, whispering this, listening to those, holding you close.

But for now I’m at the gate, and the plane’s late.

I’m looking out the window to where you are, and I can’t go there, I can’t see you here.

So many faces, so many voices but I’m steeped in the silence and absence of you.

(c)nyonglema

joy

Killing an army #stopWar

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The thunder of petals of metal flying in and out of pallid flesh,
Wading in the arid sand in a throng caught in the enemies mesh
Of flying petals of metal, clouds the air in a rare Tarantino moment
Where Beethoven serenades the splashing of blood, the torment
Of the dying shrouded in the music deafening the ears of those
Waiting to die, while their leaders watch on sad but jocose: 

It’s just war.
It’s just war.
It’s just war. 

I remember how Harry killed an army, and it wasn’t just war to me.
Nor was it to his kids who only look to him in a framed army
Picture of a man they didn’t meet, nor will meet, but whose name floods
Their home, and their mother’s eyes, with his only presence being sods
In a cemetery of white crosses dancing away in the silence of silent souls
Waiting for their Maker’s call to walk, but acclaimed by drum rolls
And gunshots, and eulogies and a flag, and a medal they will never wear,
No more salute, not tear to or be tearfully thankful for, nor hear. 

But Harry killed an army.
Killed a whole army.
YES HE KILLED AN ARMY! I’M TELLING YOU! 

Thronging the streets were strong arms, clenched fists and teeth
Swearing in black, masked, calling God’s name swordless the sheath
Seeking blood to bathe the arid air sweeping up the desert dust
Where rubble hid shrapnel from the bones and bodies it had bust
And Harry crouched to flee, taking in rays from every direction
While the air whispered death to the bullets and their deflection

It was war,
It was war
It was war,

Then the glass showed him even worse than the deplorable showed
In fallen humans, hacked, charred, chaffed as if freshly mowed;
Orphans looking for dad and mum in each others terrified eyes
Hurdled behind the next door to be rammed, basically they were dice
Waiting to be tossed in front of a beaten soldier, dreaming of home
And the pregnant mum of the one he’ll share his wheels chrome
On the sedan he bought but barely drove, the house he repaired
But barely owned as duty called beyond the sea, beyond scared.

But Harry killed an army
Killed a whole army,
With a single bullet…believe it!

With a prayer for his family soothing his parched lips,
And adrenaline rushing through love he knew won’t survive this last trip
He lifted his metal friend, and let out a round of death toward
The raised foot and screaming soldiers (Harry was no coward)
Turned to respond as they dropped one by one, as Harry closed in
Bashed the door in, as the voices turned to his direction, and in
That instant, he took those kids through the back door, through the streets
Bullets leaving him, bullets seeking him, solace seeking many weary feet

It WAS war
All out war
But still war!

The buildings played their part, and Harry knew them well,
And sought their cover, as he moved from junction to junction
Knicks on his face, rushing the kids past the arid but bloody hell
Shouting into his radio, adrenaline rushing in every function
But he knew, Harry (he was no coward), he knew where the journey would end
And the scythe hung over his neck, but his objective was at the next bend.
Revenge like a poison had his assailants blinded and slowly dying
But the bullet straight through his neck came had his spirit flying.

But he kept on
He kept on Harry
He kept on…

The thunder of petals of metal flying in and out of pallid flesh
Wading in the arid sand in a throng caught in the enemies mesh
Faded into the distance as the bullet hole drained his life fluid
But he saw his comrades as he let few more bullets, that druid,
And as the kids, crossed the secret camp gates, and Harry hit the ground
The snipers had a field day. He will not hear of the number of rounds
That ended the assault on him and the kids. He will not hear the praise
The thanks. He would not consider that his trap ended most of the frays.
His spirit slowly ebbed away, and the enemy fell, regretting that bullet,
That revenge they sought. Harry was no coward! He stood up to change a bit
But changed the war, getting in death’s way to extend the lives of those kids.

It was war,
But Harry kept on,
Yes, Harry killed an army…with one bullet!

(c) nyonglema

 

 

sadness

A Moment of Bonnie Tyler #Eclipse

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For Jodie Moment, strong pillar of the Fab family, friend, sister.
Jodie, for us it’s a Total Eclipse. Let’s cherish our friends and family while they live, for you never know when you turn around, and poof they’re gone.
May we find comfort in God, like you have found peace now with Him. RIP sis.

Amen.

Every now and then I said a prayer that
Every time you try, it would work out, that
Every hope you harbour will come to be, that
Every time you cry, you may find comfort, that
Every time I see you, I’d see that light, that life

But now every time I’ll see your laughter jumping from still pixels on a screen, I’ll miss that light and that life,
I’ll think of you pulling that microphone to safety from the strength of that voice, a mere extension of your strong person,
I’ll think of you teasing Balla, wearing laughter and joy like roses adorn the flamboyant gardens of March singing Alleluia
I’ll be sad. Maybe I’ll cry. I’ll ask why. I’ll listen to “Somewhere”, I’ll listen to the “Prayer”. I’ll listen to our own Bonnie Tyler, now fallen.

Fallen while going up the Everest of life
Fallen too early, and it feels so wrong.
Fallen…no
Moved on to our Maker.
Moved to receive you reward.

Every now and then, I know we’ll look to the sky, and
Every now and then you’ll smile back as we recount
That once there was an angel that sang and laughed sorrow away.
And you’ll sing “Turn around, ride on”

(c) nyonglema

sadness

In my hood #abnormal #legoPoetry

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I ask myself  If the world turns different, and
if the paintings  From the depth of my hood or
Around the world  the scribbles on my wall,
Feel sames as  if peeled-away hope, is all  
That on my wall.  lives and hope ask
Am I just crazy?  For: wanting to be!

(c) nyonglema

I’m going to one day make a #LEGOpoem that really works. I’ll keep working at it and sharing what I get with you, no matter how imperfect. Maybe it will inspire somebody to combine 3 poems in 1 in this way.

This is a reflection on the paradoxes of my home, where the laws are strong, but the law is weak, leading to a bleak picture where hope fades into the horizon…the norm is what is abnormal!

joy

I can #interviews

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My tux folds on me like boxes in a warehouse,
And my tie blends in the picture, not even a fibre
Seems out of place, and my mind is ready.

Yessir, I can pivot Excel tables, and make them do hand stands,
And watch the data seek goals on football pitches with vlookups.

Yessir, I can animate the entrance and exit of Powerpoint
During a presentation by the boss, with charts and SmartArt

Yessir, my Python would swallow your bugs in the libraries
And in the HTML of the pages looping until break

Yessir, I can troubleshoot the engine performance with gun in hand,
Aiming for the injection timing, with no backlash, from a gear train

Yessir, the transistors have transited in the back of my brain before,
And I see most CMOS circuit victory boards with my names on them

Yessir, I can sell a salesperson to a salesperson, and close the deal
With bang, starting a big cycle of upward scaling income in a single comma

Yessir, I can audit your processes like an Audi at a T picking left or right,
And discern where you earn, where you burn, and what you should therefore learn

Yessir, I can lead your team, but still leave them feeling light, which they can
Follow to make you more successful, I’d lead you to a new dawn too, if you let me.

Yessir, I can do anything, and I can do something, and
(on request) even nothing,
I fit the bill, I’ll fit the role,
Just say you’ll make me a piece of you.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

Truth or dare? #RIP #hope

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No neither.
I see… I see bird droppings zoom out the sky and
And…
Humans drop looking for luck in different spheres.
The crowd panics. Not felled yet, trees stand
And run for the woods where leaves shield.
And…
I see droppings hit the leaves, souls leave the trees.

Truth or dare?
No, neither.
Silence is the ether that burns the soul of the soldier.
Nobody believes the wood was felled,
As no noise was made when it fell in the woods.
Everybody says deforestation is a lie.
There were no birds, there were no trees,
There is no Earth, there is no you, nor me.

Just truth caught in a dare:
Dare to exist,
Dare to pervade,
Dare to be exchanged or dare to grow.
It lurks in the backdrop of wood becoming coffins.
It seeks to become a speaker box,
It seeks the Carpenter to heal the wounds,
But as is the case often, nobody wants to be true or dare.

Pride rides the pain of the thuds on Atlas’ load,
Rippling through his bones, and he bumps on the trees.
Then he screams: “Speak ye truth! speak to each other, in truth!”
And the leaves rustle,
And they listen.
And the felling stops,
And the yelling stops,
And truth dares to bare itself on the forest floor as
A shoot luscious green, midribs transfigured
In the shimmer of the star of the amber dawn.

(c) nyonglema

Communication can hurt or heal, it all depends on the wielder. But I’ve seen the simple exchange of perspectives lead to new solutions yet unheard of, which lead to bright futures for people whose positions hitherto seemed so radical that no consensus was possible.

Let’s dare to challenge our status quo. The future is ahead of, not behind us

Others

Blamestorming

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Pick the words to use

Nonchalantly, right or wrong:

Stab me in the soul.

(c) nyonglema