The war cries deafen in thunderous dust:
Churning Earth with mortar,
Bullets pelleting dead soldiers,
Muzzle flashes barely visible through the crust
On their viziers. War scars
Will form years after marching orders
For those who must live with memories of the lost.
Now, expletives at pain inflicted in the battle.
They tumble, we crumble,
Bone fractures, cursed mumbles.
Blood’s a minor distraction in this macabre hustle.
Eyes half open, mouth blown off,
The bodies in cursive in troughs:
Friends will mourn friends in memory of this tussle.
OR
thank God for the life of the fallen —
Who, rosary in hand, went forward
With the proficiency of the Bard,
Wrote, even with axe threatening, for our calling
Into the New deadly Way,
That brings life for aye,
That speaks truth to spear, arrow, or cauldron.
The great news of Life abundantly given.
Nero, Napoleon… all failed!
The martyrs live even impaled
For victory in human view isn’t so in Heaven.
(c) nyonglema
All posts by nyonglema
Good intentions, without a moral compass, can be detrimental.
Immaculate Conception
For spirits rare, a vessel rare
Chosen one, chosen for the Heir!
He shielded you from Adam’s stain
Eve’s gain he made you to disdain
Loving mother, hear this misery
Oh Immaculate heart carry
Our sincere confession of faith
To Jesus, even just a wraith
(c) nyonglema
PS: This is part of a longer prayer to be released in time for the Assumption 😉
Kery James – La Rue ça fait mal (translated)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0aLlrEEH4c
Verse 1
You’re using ink, I’m inking with tears
Missing those links cos I saw their flesh tear
I’m from the hood not the set of Jaws,
Hid my prints doing my childhood chores
Whatcha thought, bro?
In these black holes, whatcha saw bro?
They offed my homez, and then torched the corpse
I’m carrying the lead that beats your hardcore
Pre Chorus
I don’t turn gangster once in a studio
Six feet interred, that’s how curtains close
Fireworks flare, shells, lifeless ‘n silent
Try using tears to feed fire hydrants
Chorus
How deep these streets hurt (x3)
How deep these streets hurt, we might’ve got used to living with dirges
Verse 2
You paint with ink, I’m painting my strife
Ain’t got a mirror, bro I’m using my knife
My heart’s too dense to buy your mirage
No daydreams in this dark garage
Whatcha thought, bro ?
In your black holes, I know what I saw bro:
They offed your homez but you just can’t be sure
You’ll be in denial till you meet at the morgue
Pre Chorus
I don’t turn gangster once in a studio
Six feet interred, that’s how curtains close
Fireworks flare, shells, lifeless ‘n silent
Try using tears to feed fire hydrants
Chorus
How deep these streets hurt (x3)
How deep these streets hurt, we might’ve got used to living with dirges
Verse 3
To all who’ve lost a loved one to a firearm
To the mums living like without their arm
To the dads crying out their heart’s solitude
Waiting to die, totally destitute
Years of education now stuffed into a box
When you tote steel, you’ll one day have to pop
The hood’s booty calling, you want a fine ride?
Dude you’ve got sugar mixed up with cyanide.
Chorus
How deep these streets hurt (x3)
How deep these streets hurt, we might’ve got used to living with dirges
(c) nyonglema
Mustard Seed
Light a fire upon the raging fire?
The wood shudders and writhes in pain
As fumes scoff at the deadly ire
Dancing about the dying twig, and it's plain:
Why add more fire to fire?
Seventy seven times seven is huge,
But sometimes barely sufficient to quell,
For forgiveness of the Scrooge
Is the silence of a storm-tossed city bell;
But this would cull the deluge:
(For the twig is now bent over,
Both sides seeking trust in combustibles,
The dance of shadows now groovier
Human life precious, now just expendable,
From a spark to a supernova)
That we had that mustard seed!
Barely perceptible, yet full of potential
Calling us eagerly to heed
The Master laying bare the essentials:
Grow faith, reach the mustard seed,
Hold the cycle of hate at bay!
With one act of kindness, a precious flower
Growing in the concrete today
Is the start of the end of destruction's power
Mustard seed. Mustard tree. Today.
(c) nyonglema
Literal questions idiots literally ask
Is Schrödinger’s cat dead and alive? Does evolution explain the start of life? Can naturals make 2 + 2 five, Or bacteria make a metal fife? Is it safe to go piñata with a hive, Or ignore and let a fungal infection thrive? Can a human claim to have dog feelings? Or the rind of oranges be potato peelings? Can a wheat plant bear maize seedlings In Antarctica, Iceland or the Straits of Bering? But there is dumber yet: Who sowed the farmer? Who sewed the seamstress? Who baked the baker? Who raked the gardener? Who fried the chef? Who dyed the stylist? Who fabricated the engineer? Who programmed the programmer? And the worst of all: Who created God? (c) nyonglema
To Emmaus
He lived, they saw, they followed He died, they feared, they burrowed He lived, they heard He lived, they saw, but burrowed Or left: despair the venom Seeping into the herd The women gave a new testament The dead man Heaven sent Was dead no more. The apostles gave same testament He lived and died and under went Then rose to more But such witness may not suffice And more of the Old opened the eyes Of the walking pair Maybe this age losing its sight Can be hinged on this singular fact That the New comes into light, Still hidden the ancient artefacts That prop the story up aright. He lived, they saw, but burrowed Even as witnesses gave testament For they knew not of the Old, Of prophets, and Solomon's gold Of Ephraim, and Rehoboam Of Susanna's guiltless sorrow Maybe we can't see the Old in the New And by keeping only the partial Testament We worship ourself, call it Neo-testament, Rejecting the Lord's call to go over anew, From Genesis to see His grace anew That at the breaking of the Bread We may see His glorious Godhead. (c) nyonglema
Going up
Higher he soars, the one who calls us to more Eyes stare, the clouds do pirouettes A silhouette against the advancing sky Some cry distraught at it happening again: What's to gain if the Master disappears? Memories of the first mass Bread broken, wine shared Hope poured out, on sandy stone On a hill gasping with bare bones Break oh break, hard heart of mine As our Lord leaves to another sublime clime. Oh wake, oh wake hard heart of mine The promises form out of the clay Of the fabric of time before me Hope covers my shivering body In quotes of all that He uncovered From our knowledge new discovered What wisdom we missed, Isaiah! For now, a silhouette against the advancing sky He goes before us as advocate: He lives. (c) nyonglema
What could have been?
What if the presidents cared? They said victory was imminent. With evil intent, with barrel on fatigue, Beads on mud-caked scentent string, Leaves so scared they're now silent, Trees hearing the slaughter of a pig, While life goes on in the battle ring. Few years back there was a mountain Where silicon budded genius software jigs. Yet eyes were closed on everything. Where were those billions you're now bent Over backwards to send over leagues To warring factions wearing hope thin? Yeah! What if the presidents cared? My people die for lack of wisdom. Life is nothing but an excuse to loot. Life is nothing but dirt to be trampled Upon when upside down is the kingdom, Wishing to have a neck under a boot As a solution to pain, Wishing that ample Resources can paint the soil crimson. Did you care when they dropped out? Did you bear those same veins on your temple When hunger ravaged the mother's bossom? Where were the millions to soothe And bring hope and make nimble? How many books did you garrison? How many teachers did you arm? How many laboratories have you loaded With new tech to break them out the prison? For cultures have marched out of harm By focusing on growth not the goading. So the victory still seems imminent, With evil intent, with barrel on fatigue The kids out of school, the schools on fire, Leaves so scared, they all went silent, Trees hearing the slaughters on the hills, While you fuel the hateful mire. (c) nyonglema
Never Stop
Lord, You never stop. You pour out blessings without measure To soothe my heart and heal hope's rasure The blessings just flow From icy Everest to shimmering sea, With fireflies lighting the shore with glee My ways You straighten Undeserved, even when all seems lost You're flicker to sun to defeat the frost Lord You never stop, For great are Your ways to those who love To those who trust, and put none above. Lord You never stop, You seek the single, you search the void Ninety nine wait till one hears Your voice Lord You never stop, You call sinners to the feast beyond Where mercy offered makes guilt abscond Lord please never stop, My only hope, my only treasure My life and love, Your Word my pleasure. (c) nyonglema
waghni 