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.
sadness

African Seed

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Terror lurks in the darkened eyes of a growing child

As each minute she dips into the shrieks from her mama, 25;

Marked dad curled in silence on the ground, wanting life,

Marked by another man who’d barely seen seasons 25.

  

She recalls how daddy cried out and fell silent to the ground.

Mum recoiled at many punches many staunch “men” had found.

She was 4 back then, and saw as men 12-year olds from out of town

As they ripped her mama’s clothes…she closes her eyes, counting each heart pound.

  

She recalls that red stream that slithered to her hidden corner

Soaking her skirt; soaking in hurt like staring at the sun’s corona.

Outside guns rattled, taking out all who could mourn her.

Lonely, the tears trickled down slowly, spelling “Were’t I wasn’t born, Ah!”

  

Slowly the tears trickled down that lonely jaw…

“Jane”, cried the professor, “What’s the result of this mixture?”

Jane knew not what was before, she stood there distraught.

She wishes she could do better, but her past sticks in the picture.

  

(c) Nyonglema

joy

The Peak

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Dad said keep rolling you pick up no dust

Mum said you can my son, here are means

Big bro said chase the stars, failure will give you the moon

Big bro said stop lazing and wasting, get strapped for the future

Lil sis said I believe in you  keep pushing

And to God I said thanks for Your grace, I won’t fail you none.

anger

Ali Baba and the 40 thieves (aka african governance)

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Standing in front of the hidden entrance

On horseback, with loud sacks

Clinking as loot hit loot.

With smiles of satisfaction adorning their faces

The chief said the magic words, and in went the team;

Safe from the spoiled, safe from the world,

Ready to go back out and lay misery on  poor souls

(C) Nyonglema

surprise

A DULL THREE aka Adultery

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This is a real story by the way….

Love lived in the hearts of Him and Her,
But distance shrouded fear over Her
And to punish Her reluctance
He gave another girl a chance
And she brought triplets nine months later.

joy

FOOTBALL

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Zillion supporters screaming, a loud buzz,
Yearning to return home cheered by vitory.
Xerox machines preparing the next day’s papers; Max
Wit for the shame or fame of a member of the show.
Violent vitriols from commentators like engine rev
Unites with supporters’ glee at likes of Eto’o or Kanu
To spur skill at each minute to get even one stunning stunt
Spirits soar, sink, so it is, for here serenity bores.
Roulette, lifté, counter-attack by one party raising the roar.
Quick kick! Oh no! Replay?! Why not? That must join the FAQ
Pray the corner slays the opponent; oh that header was sharp!
Oh he missed that goal again! No replay?! Hell no!
No! Now he’s channelled that ball too late for the man,
May the coach coach correctly and call him to quit the team!
Leave the pitch you little loss-bringing imp! LOL!
Khaki-wearing “messer” I can even get your reek!
Just as our jests are about to milk out laughs, I couldn’t find a word to end with “J”.
Instead I had a whole lof of them J-starting words. So I
Hunched to think, but then looked up at the BROOHAH:
GOAL GOAL!! Oops the scorer is the Mr. Bug!
Fooled? No, I’m still for him leaving,( Scoring oaf!)
Even though this elation, release and joy, came from his device!
Defensive tactics, offensive backing up, I can almost get mad
‘Cos the best defence is attack Doc!
Bye losers, we took this easy. Supporters bob
Away, and the whole stadium sleeps in the starlight bathed by mother Luna.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

OH MEIN LEBEN #Deutsch #Unruhig #SchnellLeben #Fastlife

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Wenn ich rauch,

Und mich in Rauch tauch,

Mir egal die Wirkung auf meinen Hauch.

 

Wenn ich schlaff,

Nicht Aufgaben schaff

Mir egal was sagt der Chef.

 

Wenn ich fahr,

Betrunken, 300km sogar,

Mir egal wen ich treffe, im Verkehr.

 

Wenn ich Raves geniesse,

Und guten Sinn ausschliesse,

Mir egal, ob meine Eltern zu Hause unruhig schwitzen.

 

Wenn ich endlich sterb,

Mein Geist verlässt seinen Korb,

Mir egal wohin ich gehe, beobachtet wie gut ich gerade leb.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

When I’m Gone #Despair #Pain #Hurt #DarkPlace…I once was there, thank God I came out

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I’ve seen mirages, images of bright joy,
But they were just images, like child toys.
I found blessing, but little did my eyes see,
And I found a curse within and my heart bleeds.

All I sought was smiles on my face and theirs.
Laughs from peers and a happy tomorrow, my prayer;
Leading the right way, and stopping all from straying,
But I’m not he! No not he! I’m lost in life’s string.

As my last breath bathes my philtrum, leads to my coffin,
I think: “Had I but made my soul a better home,
So it could run in glee like a school of dolphins
And yield aught! My existence can now be labelled ‘Nought’.”

What singular body of the spheres is missed at night,
As the orchestra plays starlight beyond the moon in its might?
Substitution for failed parts, that’s all I crave,
And comfort on all who’ll stoop at my grave.

Colourful dreams, thoughts and hopes I knew since!
But new pain digs deep and I’m a fish without fins;
The current is strong and I can’t swim home,
The current events prove I’ll soon be lost in the foam.

Not so it is (I believe) to hurt the mettle.
But my frail meddled interior weeps to settle
He hurt us, and now she hurts me worse!
Is being trampled upon and abused part of the curse?

You my Maker who masters the clay and blows the Breath
Grant to all daily bread beneath Heaven’s hearth,
But to the lifeless only eternal rest;
When I’m gone may joy reign at last, for gone is the worst.

(c) Nyonglema

…..sometimes writing down the hurt can help you get out of it…this is where I was at that time.

joy

Fresh Start #happyNewYear #2014

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Adieu 2013, you served me well:

You made me laugh, cry, frown, want to die,

Long to live longer, get bored, hunger for action,

Get into excess euphoria, feel melancholy,

Love, hate, rave about that abominable colleague,

Praise another, glorify the Lord,

Fall prey to the Fallen, rise again to walk,

Despair, and be rejuvenated, Hope for a better future,

Relax, become a workaholic, mess up my tasks,

Get all answers right, Feel stupid, feel like Euclid,

Feel unique, Feel wanted, Feel loved, Feel useless

Feel sore, Wish for the sun, Feel care

Feel bare, Paranoid at each sound, each sight

Then feel strong, ready to take on each fright.

Adieu 2013, you served me well;

I regret not the good, nor the bad nor the ugly

For each second was a building block to who I am,

And who I shall become in 2014.

Adieu 2013, welcome 2014.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

PEACE #peace #war #stopwar

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The soft wind combed her silken hair,

She stood there

Looking at me; a mere mortal she saw

Looking at her shawl.

I saw the accursed bruises she bore

Like a slave at the oar;

Her silver skin striped in black and blue

(She wished I knew).

Her wilted lips losing their colour,

Cut; what horror!

Her clothes told not of misery, but of fights;

Even through long nights,

The clashing of metal. “Oh! Such is not woman’s mettle”,

Myself  I said to.

Then she uttered a ghastly echo, as if in strain:

“In vain

I’ve tried to cross, and have suffered like He on the cross”

I was so cross!

I stood wondering at the sight at Earth’s borders.

But worse yet are the plights of my earthly brothers

Who shunned this beauty. May Destiny forgive us.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

WHAT HAPPENS #Africa #Peace #StopWar

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What happens when karma turns right around?

What’s clapping to demagogues’ speeches as they mount

Lie on lie,

Promising Sugar Candy mountains,

Each word thought as false as the applaud of the crowd

Gathering round?

 

 

What happens when arms turn your life around?

What’s laughing at demographic decay as bombs amount.

The sun’s less bright;

Dust, blood shoveled on rotting corpse mountains,

Each door wrapt in pain, writhing in tears at the shrouds

Which will cost heavy amounts?

 

 

What happens when mama’s turned down to the ground?

What happens in your heart as that man strips and mounts

Before your eye,

And rips and rakes; all those shrieks you hate mounting,

Each bone crimped in pain at so sad a sound

Tearing your tears out?

 

 

What happens when the army toss your dad around

With laughing? With machete slash his mouth,

Burst his eyes,

Chop him and put another piece to the corpse mountain;

Each part calling your sorrow as flames on the mountain fume in their bout

And your fingers are gripping the ground?

 

 

Mama Africa, can’t you see the arid ground

Soaking up the blood of your children?

Why are you so deaf to the sound?

Why are we cleft so profound into hateful factions?

…

So many questions,

No answers.

That leaves me pondering:

What happens when we’ve stomped all our brethren underground?

 
 

(c) Nyonglema