“The rules are simple: they lie to us, we know they're lying, they know we know they're lying, but they keep lying to us, and we keep pretending to believe them.” ― Elena Gorokhova, A Mountain of Crumbs Lions brawn teeth hair fierce mane Death silent sentient salient insane First a scratch on marble, neglected It widens, all see it, neglect it Blood oozes pus, we gonna let it What's a little Fib to evil? One starts the rise to new levels Then one again before in shovels It leaps to hell totally disheveled 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21 Fibs eat laxity with no laxatives on 34 climbing up to 4-1-8-1 Eyes turn away; what's a little Fib growing? We'll find a way even when Truth's gone. Lions brawn teeth hair fierce mane No courage to face pain to heal game It's not all false, it's not all bane So let's pretend everything here is sane Let's let evil remodel and set its reign Death silent sentient salient insane (c) nyonglema
All posts by nyonglema
Sola scripturina
Welcome to high school, where the books Need cranes, the pens get drained And, and... you'll overload the brain! So, wise student, see here this gizmo: All formulae, all concepts here for you, Picked and chosen all that pain to eschew Newton's central idea, Lorentz's too Lavoisier, Curie, Mendeleev, Bohr, more In little print, focusing just on core. Of course the details long to be read Upon the hundreds of pages that hide, Behind each of this books pages' side Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut................ This student Luther, the know-it-all Has determined that the Principia is Not needed to get the central theses. That our little book intended to aid Is solely sufficient, so ditch the rest, Rely solely on these excerpts for the test. (c) nyonglema
Lies
Waterfalls start slow: Drops fall on unknowing rock, The stream grows, the End. (c) nyonglema
Expertise
Which book has been the most burnt, The most insulted, the most analyzed, Challenged, denigrated, hated? Experts in the comment section Light up the fireworks of opinion. Greek and Hebrew and Aramaic Hold no secret to them. The History of the People whose Words fill its pages is as Elementary as ABC to them; they Can re-enact it from their homes. Armed with the sword of language, History, culture, Geography, Philosophy and science of the day, They hack away, they hack away! Contradictions? hack hack hack. Falsehoods? hack hack hack. Human inventions? hack hack hack. Their keyboards sharper than steel! They've read all 73 books, stroke For stroke, and can parallel texts, One section to other, to see how each author Made up the story to suit their narrative. Or they have not? But 1 video is sufficient, They're now experts of everything! The Book is false, the tradition as well. Their feelings and opinion are the Truth. Encouraged by others like them who In pride turned Its words into rascals, Bending them to do their will over the Will They type away, playing "God". (c) nyonglema
After Trump 2
So now Trump lost, and Facebook, Twitter, Alphabet, Hollywood and the MSM won... Hold back your tears, Marcus Antonius, as the toga With holes which is prop to your words. Lost for words, the crowds try to catch your every word. Their ears try to synthesize hope from them, The man on the pedestal will no more give them such hope And hopefully he taught them how to fish. No more will their voices be heard, even As the gramophone goes silent. For four years they heard their echo with solutions And saw these take form according to their wish. The storm within seeks an outlet to simmer down, But Caesar wasn't enough for the conspirators. They want more blood, as a cat taunting its catch, The murderer stabbing the lifeless victim Forgetting that anger leads always to great evil Especially when egged on by a victor's muzzle. Hold back your tears, Marcus Antonius, and keep peace, In spite of Newton's third law, hold back, keep peace. (c) nyonglema
History be kind
Put on your soft mittens as you mete out punches The stench of despair has sent the flies flying As wretched voices die in the agony of the trenches, Smoke, fire, death, silence, blood slowly crying. Don't let those tears disappear without telling Of how they came to be. From aching gland burning, From swollen heart entrapped dreaming of belling Of events that cause in all for justice a yearning Don't let the fires chew up the browning pages Where once sordid tales told the willing student Of what would come this way, or that way, the wages Of right, wrong; the way of the vile, of the prudent Telling of wretched voices dying in the trenches, Of smoke, fire, and of blood slowly crying. Don't let memory die as they split us into tranches To silence half, then lead both halves into trenches. (c) nyonglema
In the desert
I hear voices telling me I'm not enough. My inadequacies gang up for an intervention, And I'm the center of their morbid attention: "You are and will be found wanting." Camel skin marked the way way back. The desert stirred as "Repent" echoed along The lonely shores of the River Jordan, and throng Upon throng came to listen. I'm not there. A straight, flattened way for the Lord Was the requirement for any form of joy. Yet all I bring are curves, hills and voids, And inability to do better or more. "Before birth, before you were formed..." I've read that, but should I believe it? Definitely it was meant for some great prophet, Not me, seed on rocky soil wilting away How shall the Lord travel these traps That my hungry angry soul sets in despair? How shall he navigate a heart so in disrepair Even spiders won't build webs there? "Don't be afraid, for I am with you...." Whispers floating to my cowering ears To persuade me to cast away the fears That gang up to jail-bar my attention. With four candles burning on the wreath, And my healing heart still thinking about my fate While making the straight to welcome the babe I move to not be afraid for He is with me It's a child's craft on the potter's wheel, The trembling fingers on the archer's bow, A wrench eating at a loose nut, but I sure know That I'm not alone in fixing that manger Which for the Architect is Heaven's harbinger (c) nyonglema
Luck
The electrons rush down their path, Reacting to my finger pressure on buttons. It's all by chance. I hit the gas pedal and lurching Forward, the trees rush past the moving wind. It's all by chance. Infra-red waves open the portal To news, the world and its fun on my TV screen, It's all by chance. The blender spins to chop, Perfectly sharpened and balanced to act, It's all by chance. Oh... you don't think so? You think we should credit some human For this genius and the art? Yet... The Earth floats between death and sun, In a solar system set just right in the milky way, But it's all by chance. Celestial bodies pummel everything, Sparing Earth despite their random deadly craze But it's all by chance. Solar flares cast deadly rays, But the ozone is just there so you tan just right, But it's all by chance. Our brains can think about thinking About another person thinking about thinking, But it's all by chance. Yes, You want me to believe that in history, One day a cat gave birth to a beast not a cat And another cat gave birth to that same species And they met, and happily started a new line of Not cats... just by chance. Like at some point a unicell Moved out to become multicellular And made you, randomly, by picking the luck From the safe possible DNA/RNA recombinations: 1 to quadrillion cells in less than a trillion years, Just by chance. That out of millions of possibilities, You made it to the egg, just by chance. That you're just a fluke The result of mere luck A glitch in the machine. (c) nyonglema
After Trump
What if Trump lost, and Facebook, Twitter, Alphabet, Hollywood and the media won: The people are stunned, hanging on a breath To see the fallen giant hiding in shame. Fear, confusion fills the senate, as death Lingers on the faces of hate untamed. Iron on their toga flows down their arms, Down to the iron in their fateful hands Hanging on the final breath of the land's Greatest leader, hanging frustrated and calm. Sullen the face of Brutus the conspirator, With shadows emerging from his wrinkles To ask questions: heroes or vain traitors? Wrong or right? In barely a star's twinkle The future was set, and in this dead calm With J's blood still fresh on his hair strands Clinging to what was life, what was grand Brutus ponders what good was done, or what harm. At Pompeii's feet, sprawled is the victor, Ironically repenting for his actions past. And the people, confused and totally unsure How to continue the game with the dice he cast Seek a new leader with such venom, yet much charm, Fighting for them like he had a magic wand. CNN will finally never need to recant. He put the future back in the people's hands. (c) nyonglema
Kumba, then more.
Nimbus clouds in the horizon cause me to panic. Growing up in the heart of the tropics Where storms would rush in and push down crops, Screaming at our windows, banging with water, Asking me to open and taste Noah's flood, What comes after nimbus seems familiar to me. The temperature drops, as the wind rises, And the sky goes from the blue that smiles On glistening leaves on grassy hills singing hope To a grey gloom gathering pain to dump on us. Expectant I rush to close the windows, Take in the corn, the egusi, the clothes: What can I do about imminent bad weather? Nimbus clouds in the horizon caused me to panic. Growing up in the heart of the trouble, Where storms would rush in and burn down crops, Screaming at our windows, banging with boots, Asking me to open and taste my own blood, What comes after greed seems familiar to me. When peacemakers were sent to jail To keep illegal funds alive for all, I saw bullets raining down on innocent Lives seeking justice, but seeing just this: Death, fires, death, destruction, death. What has been the darkest period in this? 24/10/2020? Or the baby in the bubbling oil? Or the beheaded teacher, or the beheaded cop? Or the razed villages, or Ngarbuh, or Fake dialogue, or refusal to bring peace? Nimbus clouds in the horizon caused me to panic. Not anymore. The rain pours from my eyes seeing dreams Splattered in pools of blood on school floors. "We will protect them!" Nobody did. The teachers, the parents are incriminated As grief seizes their hearts and constricts To kill, and swallow. But who cares? 7 dead, many living Where the bullets can still take them out. We focus on the dead, forgetting the living Living in a hell that bullets can't end. (c) nyonglema Eis requiem aeternam Dei : Victory, Jenifer, Princess, Telma, Rema, Syndi, ....
waghni 