Categories
fear

My ancestors hate me?

Bring me a white goat he said, your fortune is bad he said. 
Leaning on the shoulder of my uncle, my cells shiver 
Even as I hear they're hot from the thermometer, 
My pounding head lets the sound in from his chanting, 
And my burning nose hugs my sintering eyes. 

White lines zig zag and jiggle with his dancing skin, 
The hazy bones on the ground tell him everything. 
He knows everything, especially things I don't know. 
He speaks with my grand mother and grand father, 
And even people further into my genetic past. 

But my mind couldn't sit still: A white goat? 
To appease my Uwu, who taught me to pair my socks
To avoid tornadoes in the room when I find just one? 
Would Doh really hate his son's son to the point 
Of wishing him dead before any stub on his chin? 

The calligraphy of incensed smoke fills my thoughts, 
Staring at his mouth calling my aunts and uncles
Who seek a slab over my unbreathing head. 
Is this where dreams all come to die? Where the 
Maker warned we will be misled into cavorting with Evil? 

My uncle tells me this is ok, tradition suggests, no, DEMANDS, 
That in times of trouble, we should guess through bones
Which of those who love us in reality, through the smoke
Can be declared jealous, heinous, whether dead or here, 
So we can hate them, and thereby build up this lie as truth. 

(c) nyonglema









Categories
fear sadness

Beads held together


God says it
Humans write it
Humans comment on it
They reach consensus on it
God sends one to bind it
Humans reject Him and it
Humans try to bend it
Humans fight for it
God saves it. 

(c) nyonglema


When the Pope is wrong, pray, pray a lot.
Even Peter was wrong, was corrected: 
Infallibility doesn't mean perfection
Nor does imperfection mean fallibility
Papacy doesn't make a mortal God
But our immortal God maintains the Papacy
Like Moses holding the stone tablets.
Categories
fear

Weak Men

"Touch your feelings. Cry. Show that emotion." 
I remember one who did that as the plot thickened. 
Speaking of truth from his purple toga: 
Purple dripped to the floor because of his fear. 
An emotion. 
It crawled off hanging flesh on a back. 
It trickled off the whip, splattered on stone. 

He feared losing his position in the hierarchy. 
He feared being labelled a tyrant. 
He feared being labelled too clement. 
Truth knocked at his door, offering 
Salvation. 
He chose his weakest emotion as guiding star, 
And led Barabbas to lonely babies and future orphans. 

Standing there, drowning in fear, fear, fear, 
Beset by crystal balls drawing his fate 
In paths to future outcomes in purple blood
On the city walls, amidst the clamour, his 
Gumption 
Was vaulting over a bowl of ostrich water, washing 
Off the blood saying, "It wasn't me! Fac sicut vultis"

Where was the Evangelist, to write the guilt, 
Shame and justified tears, as the eclipse shook 
The temple to its foundations, stole the light 
Off the world? To watch him watching Him on His
Mission, 
Shedding the tears of repentant strong men, but 
Only, this time regretting "what if", "what if". 

(c) nyonglema



Categories
fear

Face #covid19

Itches are like flies, carrying pestilence
From ranch to branch, restlessly destructive. 
Where do they come from? Nobody nose! 
The ice of their land went dark when sunlight 
Left them nomads on the human body. 
My fingers have a fancy for them, my hands
Dart to dance to their fickle rhythm. 
Van Gogh possesses the evil paint, and my fingers
Like dry brush upon easel, screech out The Scream: 
Nobody ears it, nobody ceases. In that moment 
Death plots with the 19th crown to walk into me. 
My lungs want to heave
But my face takes its leave. 

(c) nyonglema
Categories
fear

No End #stopwar #ambazonia

In a conflict, the more sensible person should call for a negotiation, whoever that person is. Guns only call more guns.



Where the sunlight gives a dying kiss to the watery ripples
Of orange despair, my mind wanders like a lost soul. 
Souls get trampled under dusty boots on the drying 
Bahama grass, bent over and trying to recoil when 
The foot leaves it; it has lots to say but its lips are sealed:
 
Children played here under hopeful stars yesterday, 
While their crease-browed parents argued about the 
Next stop in their journey to nowhere. The neighbours 
Looked at their Cicam cloth on the floor in jealousy; 
Theirs was bare soil, and little food for their brood. 

Children sprayed bullets at soldiers yesterday 
While their wide eyed friends laid in red cells, 
Staring into the distance, avoiding the sight of 
Brother hacking brother. The macabre sacrifice of Cain, 
The macabre machination of Nagato Pain unleashing
Upon the calm Harmattan smoke-laden wind. 

My mind wanders where hope and despair clash with rage. 
Everybody's right in the painting. All that's left,
Are corpses, explosions, revenge, decapitations, and a 
Government that threatens extermination of vermin 
For foiling their plans of total control and greed
Makes you only vermin to be eradicated, cost what may
Come what may! Vermin is vermin even in a cradle. 

(c) nyonglema


Categories
fear

Impeach

The flies hover round, humming a dinner song. 
The smell is marvelous, and taste builds a throng.

Rigor mortis holds their feast in place like pebbles
Laid round hand-decorated ceramic on tables:

Once, he moved around and guided with orders,
To sway his country good and keep its borders.

Then, HE decided. Not anymore, no, no more.
"Fact" is dead and "I heard " took over this shore.

And suddenly judging a presumptuous bribe
Is wiser than doing so for an actual bribe diatribe

(c) nyonglema
Categories
fear

If only…

If only I had done more, been more, prayed more! 
The sand and the mud are all mixed up
And the sun fish lie dead on the shore.
I wonder how they gasped for air, while the
Waves beat the sand, sending ripples of
Soothing sound through the air they couldn't breathe.

The plastics of the tourists are crab obstacle courses,
Once filled with juice, once desired
Now cast aside. Filth all around, and death follows.
If only I had done more, been more, prayed more!
The sand once a sheet of beige now is polka-dotted.
The dye finisher botched the mix, and the chaos
Created is just plain filth, and death follows.

I watch the Church tearing itself apart from inside
Like an infiltrated Iron-Man suit; from the inside.

(c) nyonglema
Categories
fear

New Classes (by Balla 9yr old)

Whenever I go to a new class, 
At the door I feel a chill on my back
I get so scared
I just stare
But it's okay
to be afraid.
Everyone is nervous sometimes
But they become brave sometimes.

(c) balla
Categories
fear

Because colonisation

The wheels on the bus fight round and round
Round the ground, stones around,
The wheels on the bus, have gone aground
In holes in the town.

The driver of the bus says move on back,
Far to the back, far to the back,
The driver of the bus stays in his shack
While sons and moms drown

The baby on the bus goes where'd I go?
Where's that hope? Where's that road?
The baby on the bus thinks Paris stole those
While leaders put on a frown

The mummy on the bus goes France did this
France did this, In the 1960s
The mummy on the bus says France did this,
While leaders steal her gown.

The wheels on the bus have left the ground,
Go round and round, round and round,
The wheels on the bus go off road guards
And starts plunging down.

(c) nyonglema


		
Categories
fear

To the Modern Parent’s kids

Dear all of you living in the 21st debauchery
Of feel good madness, zombies gawking at shiny blocks
Of plastic, which spew tonnes of nothing to capture
Your minds.
I’m sorry that your freedom is freedom to do the same
As everybody else. The advertisement industry
Finally got your flag, and you’re raising your arms
To hail symbols you don’t understand.
You’re Chinese mercenaries in a Trojan war,
African slaves running the slave market.
I’m sorry that your parents gave up.
Literally gave you up to the television, internet
And everything else that added sand to their hour glasses.
There’s hope for you, but till then, I’ll pray for your freedom,
And that parents will actually look after the root of every kingdom

(c)nyonglema