Where do they find their solace when time takes toll?
Choices that is. You know, when a fur coat seems better than a wind-breaking
piece of plastic in a shop where the browned decay of the sales lady’s teeth
hint at the bad breadth of its shoulders, and the colours seem off, but you’re
worried about the environment, so you lean towards it and away from dead animals.
Where do they find their stretch when time takes toll?
At one point you’ve got many, and at another the page is blank. Even the word
to start a poem hides behind the distractions of the day, and your choice to watch
Infinity Wars till 2am, and be up to your employer’s hobby, your livelihood, by
4am, which meant that your brain factory remained littered with yesterday.
I’ve noticed how choices impact choices, no troll!
It’s like the Mahjong possibility counter, and the kanji sign you just clicked
to reduce it, or when you go for a piece further off to the left, and the counter
goes up the sides of your cheeks, like to say you did the right thing by chance
or by calculated meticulousness.
My daughter stares me in the eyes as I get daily old:
I answer her that every action from that first cry she made hanging upside
down with amniotic coat has determined where she stands now, and every
action she freely wills will determine the amount of freedom she can exercise
as time takes its course and my hairline reduces my freedom of hair styling.
My son stares at my lies, head cocked like “It’s getting old!”:
I tell him freedom comes from sacrificing freedom, like Isaac on an altar, or
Joseph in a well, or me writing this here, or Jesus on a cross, or hitting a campaign
or running trail, or studying for a test, or digging up fossils, or just helping a
neighbour: the more of your freedom you forfeit for the right reasons, the more
you’re ready for the fullness of more freedom to forfeit.
(c) nyonglema
Category Archives: joy
The End #live
The End is at the start of every movie like winter and snow.
Like Autumn the most, the rest will surely surly follow
While you frown. There are things an eraser must allow
And things tattooed next to your eye, just below the brow:
The End is at the start of every movie like winter and snow.
It’s easy to ignore the metal chipping away as the engine churns,
Or the magnets slowly turning away as the Earth turns.
Even Kobe knew his jersey was meant to be hung off the floor
The fire from the line tamed, and yet it’s easy to forget, for
It’s easy to ignore the metal chipping away as the engine churns.
But let not the day be your friends opening the door with hats,
For there’s no cake, no replay, no rewind, just you and the facts.
Facts haunt you in that instant: your beds in disarray, unmade
Are where you must lay, and they bring you acrid lemonade,
But let not the day be your friends opening the door with hats.
So be ready, for every movie like Winter and Snow
Has its moment, and you’re the artist putting on your own show
And when the Producer pulls the curtain, we want rounds of applause
Let the next act with no drawn-out we-‘re not ready pause ’cause
The End is at the start of every movie, like winter and snow.
(c) nyonglema
Fly butterfly, fly
Fly butterfly, fly. In the past you slugged
Across the wood to catch some leaves.
You painted yourself colours that would shrug
Off the creatures who see only food
When they look at you.
The acid rain beat your coat, like the
Tears you shed for your digested siblings.
But on you went, midrib to midrib,
Waiting for the day you earn your reward.
Gripping the branches, you’d slip and restart
The journey to the green, from the ant-laden ground
Where a bird took one brother then another;
But you never stopped crawling
You’d always hear destiny calling:
“Die, butterfly, die!” And you accepted the cross
So, fly, butterfly,fly!
(c) nyonglema
The Monkey Series: David and the Painter by Balla (8y old)
Once, David the monkey was breakdancing in the woods. Then he saw a building; he asked himself: “What type of building is that?” when he went closer he saw it was a painting shed. The painter was Peter the evil dinosaur. Peter wanted to trap the heroes to take over the world.
David asked: “Please may you paint a picture of me?”.
Peter said: “No, unless you give me a dollar.” He needed a dollar for his machine to work to trap the heroes because when he is painting he was actually turning gears for the trap. David knew his plans, so he said: “Team Jungle, I need you guys!” Suddenly all of his friends came.
There was Tornado Flash, Basher, Undercover Car, Pouncer etc. Tornado Flash made the fastest tornado. He does that when he is angry because Peter has an evil plan. Basher bashed the shed. It fell in the terrible ocean where sharks live. The heroes decided to make a plan to trap Peter instead. Undercover car scared Peter, he landed on a trampoline. Peter bounced really high. Pouncer jumped and pushed Peter even further and it was the right time because Peter’s cage was going to trap Peter. Peter said, “You’ve not seen the last of me team jungle!”
The animals and the people thanked Team Jungle for saving the city in the woods.
The End
(c) balla
The Monkey Series: David and the dinosaur by Balla(8y old)
Once, there was a monkey called David who was taking a stroll in the forest. Then, he saw a gigantic dinosaur called Peter, but Peter was evil.
So, David said: “Please may you tell me the way to the Magical Desert?” Peter said: “I know but I won’t tell you!” So, David did this: he jumped did a backflip in the air and kicked the evil dinosaur. The dinosaur fainted on the ground in the river. So, David had to look for the Magical Desert himself.
He looked in every place he knew but couldn’t find it. So, he used his GPS, but his GPS could not find it. So he used a machine called the Knower. It knew every place David was in. So, he used it to find the Magical Desert, but it stopped working. He thought he was in the Magical Desert, when he was in it.
He made magic, and it worked. He was happy because he was in the Magical Desert.
The end.
(c) balla
Which one #freedomToChoose
“Or” is quite a peculiar word:
It includes everything, yet excludes some of them.
It rows the boat forward
And helps it stall sometimes. It contains wealth
And millennia of dirt
In one lump of discovery in poorly lit alleys.
But take away the “or”, and your core is but sea,
Silent, unperturbed, bound to move within the crevices
Of the Earth, where blood is used to extract ores
To take away your “or”. Without that oar, you’re pieces
Of hope floating the torrent, you go where it goes
You flow where it flows, and crash where it crashes.
(c) nyonglema
We take our capacity to choose for granted, but it is not so…choosing is a luxury. You could choose to read this or not because you have a device connected to the internet; some only have the choice not to read. You can choose to like a government or not, in dictatorial regimes, you have but one choice.
You hold a weapon, keep it sharp, and use your choices wisely.
Autism #hope
Misunderstood
Like “Et tu Brute”
Like hating brothers,
Pain and love locked
Like “Et tu Brute”
Like hating brothers
Your cross is heavy.
Each day’s prayer begs to be
Answered, as despair is Romeo
Throwing pebbles at your roof.
But you don’t hear it,
You don’t fear it.
The world is a crystal from foreign shores.
You’re so far off it
Yet so near it.
They don’t get it.
(c) nyonglema
Hope #wins
Hope for tomorrow,
Hope that yesterday’s pains were but steps to today
And that its joys were but steps to today.
Hope that it gets better.
It really could be worse, but it does get better.
Hope for tomorrow.
(c) nyonglema
Hope #neverGiveUp
When the floor has come fast against your face
The temptation is to stare there, and stay
Waiting for it to come off you and race
That you may keep running, it should the other way
But if the Earth has come to meet you
Feel honoured, and peacock your mind and chest
Then say “Bye”, and take the dust of too,
And just set off again to give your best.
(c) nyonglema
Beautiful way to die #snow
The lily petals dance slowly silently till the ground is decorated,
Cold air pierces nature with a sharp spear till all is exterminated,
And the trees treasure the sun play on their silky winter fur
Which sucks life away from them, cell for cell, bur for bur.
The elk dons its party coat, to play over the frozen lake
Where fish have fled as if they heard its tummy speak hunger-ache
Wind tickles the laughter out of those petals, and children laugh
With sleds and sleighs, skis and skids, cars that don’t see and crash,
Balls thrown away, snow-women going to the delivery room again
To birth newer snow-people, while frost eats away at finger veins.
The silence…oh the silence, only broken by the music of the wind
As it rushes through the seams to steal a friend or a fiend.
The petals paint a picture, as if the store sold-out on colours
But awe, oh awe! Everything speaks the beauty of the Creator
Yet the purity of it all hacks your lips and nose, and hits your bones
Seeking to go deeper and freeze every single thing holding your soul.
Oh how less painful it is to feel the heat being teased away,
Staring at the Snow swirl and adorn Nature as a bride on her day.
(c) nyonglema
waghni 