Category Archives: joy

joy

Life #smile

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You don’t know when it starts nor ends
But you must live it in twists and bends.
No manual robotises your daily experience
And no theory can predict weakness or resilience.
The people you meet cannot immediately tell whence
Your smiles or tears come, nor can you theirs.
It’s just life,complex yet simple, loving yet painful,
Misunderstood yet so simple, from dirt to dining tables
And you must live it, good or bad, fun or scare,
And smile all the way, catching the wind in your hair.

(c) nyonglema

joy

Killing an army #stopWar

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The thunder of petals of metal flying in and out of pallid flesh,
Wading in the arid sand in a throng caught in the enemies mesh
Of flying petals of metal, clouds the air in a rare Tarantino moment
Where Beethoven serenades the splashing of blood, the torment
Of the dying shrouded in the music deafening the ears of those
Waiting to die, while their leaders watch on sad but jocose: 

It’s just war.
It’s just war.
It’s just war. 

I remember how Harry killed an army, and it wasn’t just war to me.
Nor was it to his kids who only look to him in a framed army
Picture of a man they didn’t meet, nor will meet, but whose name floods
Their home, and their mother’s eyes, with his only presence being sods
In a cemetery of white crosses dancing away in the silence of silent souls
Waiting for their Maker’s call to walk, but acclaimed by drum rolls
And gunshots, and eulogies and a flag, and a medal they will never wear,
No more salute, not tear to or be tearfully thankful for, nor hear. 

But Harry killed an army.
Killed a whole army.
YES HE KILLED AN ARMY! I’M TELLING YOU! 

Thronging the streets were strong arms, clenched fists and teeth
Swearing in black, masked, calling God’s name swordless the sheath
Seeking blood to bathe the arid air sweeping up the desert dust
Where rubble hid shrapnel from the bones and bodies it had bust
And Harry crouched to flee, taking in rays from every direction
While the air whispered death to the bullets and their deflection

It was war,
It was war
It was war,

Then the glass showed him even worse than the deplorable showed
In fallen humans, hacked, charred, chaffed as if freshly mowed;
Orphans looking for dad and mum in each others terrified eyes
Hurdled behind the next door to be rammed, basically they were dice
Waiting to be tossed in front of a beaten soldier, dreaming of home
And the pregnant mum of the one he’ll share his wheels chrome
On the sedan he bought but barely drove, the house he repaired
But barely owned as duty called beyond the sea, beyond scared.

But Harry killed an army
Killed a whole army,
With a single bullet…believe it!

With a prayer for his family soothing his parched lips,
And adrenaline rushing through love he knew won’t survive this last trip
He lifted his metal friend, and let out a round of death toward
The raised foot and screaming soldiers (Harry was no coward)
Turned to respond as they dropped one by one, as Harry closed in
Bashed the door in, as the voices turned to his direction, and in
That instant, he took those kids through the back door, through the streets
Bullets leaving him, bullets seeking him, solace seeking many weary feet

It WAS war
All out war
But still war!

The buildings played their part, and Harry knew them well,
And sought their cover, as he moved from junction to junction
Knicks on his face, rushing the kids past the arid but bloody hell
Shouting into his radio, adrenaline rushing in every function
But he knew, Harry (he was no coward), he knew where the journey would end
And the scythe hung over his neck, but his objective was at the next bend.
Revenge like a poison had his assailants blinded and slowly dying
But the bullet straight through his neck came had his spirit flying.

But he kept on
He kept on Harry
He kept on…

The thunder of petals of metal flying in and out of pallid flesh
Wading in the arid sand in a throng caught in the enemies mesh
Faded into the distance as the bullet hole drained his life fluid
But he saw his comrades as he let few more bullets, that druid,
And as the kids, crossed the secret camp gates, and Harry hit the ground
The snipers had a field day. He will not hear of the number of rounds
That ended the assault on him and the kids. He will not hear the praise
The thanks. He would not consider that his trap ended most of the frays.
His spirit slowly ebbed away, and the enemy fell, regretting that bullet,
That revenge they sought. Harry was no coward! He stood up to change a bit
But changed the war, getting in death’s way to extend the lives of those kids.

It was war,
But Harry kept on,
Yes, Harry killed an army…with one bullet!

(c) nyonglema

 

 

joy

I can #interviews

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My tux folds on me like boxes in a warehouse,
And my tie blends in the picture, not even a fibre
Seems out of place, and my mind is ready.

Yessir, I can pivot Excel tables, and make them do hand stands,
And watch the data seek goals on football pitches with vlookups.

Yessir, I can animate the entrance and exit of Powerpoint
During a presentation by the boss, with charts and SmartArt

Yessir, my Python would swallow your bugs in the libraries
And in the HTML of the pages looping until break

Yessir, I can troubleshoot the engine performance with gun in hand,
Aiming for the injection timing, with no backlash, from a gear train

Yessir, the transistors have transited in the back of my brain before,
And I see most CMOS circuit victory boards with my names on them

Yessir, I can sell a salesperson to a salesperson, and close the deal
With bang, starting a big cycle of upward scaling income in a single comma

Yessir, I can audit your processes like an Audi at a T picking left or right,
And discern where you earn, where you burn, and what you should therefore learn

Yessir, I can lead your team, but still leave them feeling light, which they can
Follow to make you more successful, I’d lead you to a new dawn too, if you let me.

Yessir, I can do anything, and I can do something, and
(on request) even nothing,
I fit the bill, I’ll fit the role,
Just say you’ll make me a piece of you.

(c) nyonglema

joy

Home #nature

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There’s an orchestra in the trees
A funny band they are, uniform with instruments.
The same notes rustle enchanted leaves,
Putting on a show for the feathery clouds pasted
Across the tapestry of God’s palace,
(For a carpenter, it’s strange He fancies blue)
Spreading before my eyes covered in awe
Taking it all in: the air pressure mounting Bucephalus to move
Feathers on the band, the sunlight stealing trinkets of colour for
My hungry eyes, the Earth of golden brown,
Holding years of history in stories it whispers to my consciousness
As I grab a fistful of my raw material.
Maybe I should seek a seat by those rowdy fellows
And watch their breasts vibe at the resonance
Of nature’s beauty.
Oh that band of one instrument.
One as an instrument taking me home.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

When it all falls down #rise

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Darkness will sure come
Like cloudy shadows on trees,
Wind swings in new hope

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Looking for Rafiki #rise

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There are times that life gets so complicated that you lose hope, that you believe that you are just a mistake in God’s master-plan. In those moments, you may wish to be in a movie.

Like in the Lion King, where all goes bad, then here comes Rafiki with the water reflection trick to make you see yourself, you wish for that epiphany. Then you say to yourself it will never happen…well maybe here it is 😉




My soul is longing for peace,
My mind is working on the fleece of the wool of redemption.
Dad always said the only solution to anything was preemption,
But …that’s not helping now, I need magic beans, or even peas.

I’ve scraped my knees
Against the floor, bruised my thighs like a failed sliding tackle
And broken my fingers with nothing to show but my lost battles
Hanging like trophies in a hive deserted of bees.

I’ve seen life seethe,
And stink to the brim with no solace, direction or intention,
Smelt the reek as if each of my steps would take me up the proverbial creek
Yet my Sisyphus reward is to walk still and breathe

Yet you Lord look me
Deep within the soul at that time I dare not look at a mirror
And see more than gold where I sense but ghouls and cheap horror
But dare not call for help ashamed and cuddling my defeat.

You see the meat,
Where I see only decay clinging to bones as the flies tug,
Cheese where I see but milk going away as the flies would tug
And You call to me, and call again while I pull up my bed sheets.

Totally hid I feel,
Yet You still see, still call, still love, still long
For that seed you sowed to bask in the raining glow of the sun
And dance to the tune of photosynthesis and mitosis and start to reel

Totally dead I feel,
For undeserving, I am served with the most beautiful voice
Of hope from a fellow human sent by You, I push away the buoys
You send because this despair loves this creek stroking the keel.

But you Lord look me,
And beckon louder, and louder, and louder, each bellow more potent
Than the previous, and like trees swaying by the wind bent
I feel the soul you gave me reach for the rudder, but me

I love this creek,
So I pull it away. But you beckon even louder and louder and louder,
And maybe that’s when I hear the prayer my soul’s slowly powdered
On my days in the silence of my subconscious, courageous and meek

I love this creek,
Lord, but it hurts to be this deep. I’m accepting what I can’t change
Just like you advised. Don’t pull me out, I don’t deserve any chance.
That’s my conscious rationalising. But I sense my soul’s subtle leaks.

The transcripts are in,
It calls to its Maker in hidden text, and writes lengthy memos,
I’d not read. I’m starting to hate this creek through its demos.
Maybe it’s time to leave. But will you Lord take me back in?

You Lord look me
Deep within, beyond my saddest moments, beyond my soul’s hardest
Torments, beyond the times I pushed you away trusting my breast
Alone, you Lord choose me again, You really choose me

And call on me,
To cast my burdens, to cast the yoke I have piled on my shoulder
And leave the creek wherein I’ve been rolling up the evil boulder,
To come home: your love gives me hope, your love heals.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Alleluia #Easter #newBeginnings #spring

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Everyday is a new opportunity to get a new beginning in your life. Life walks around distributing lemons, what are you going to do with them? Make lemonade or leak tears?

A man used death to save the world!
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Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia

  The Lord is risen, the flood in Eden
  Has ceased this morn, Alleluia !

  My joy was hidden, in death’s throes shivering
  Till bright light shone, Alleluia

  My soul met Evil and thought it was even,
  But oh…hope won ! Alleluia !

  Alleluia, the choir’s wings shiver
  To swell up the storm of Alleluias

  Alleluia, the choir sings forever
  Alleluia, Alleluia

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia

  Darkness broke with the wake of the globe.
  As it spun the light into sight, Apostles woke
  To the shrill voices of hope who’d gone with balm
  But brought back joy that whole nations will calm.

  Alleluia, no tremors no splinters
  When my Lord came hither, Alleluia

  Alleluia, off came the fetters
  When the Word came home, Alleluia

  God’s face was my brother, the cross brought bother
  But oh…hope won, Alleluia

  Hope’s all my fodder, but life was asunder
  Till bright light shone, Alleluia

  Yes, He is risen, my soul praise the heavens!
  Death ceased this morn, Alleluia!

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Sleep …or not #insomnia

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The waves quietly pat the boat where the sheep jump the gates, the clouds float away, the squeegee mops away at the drowning noises of today’s hustle.

The buildings walk next to the roads in discourse about when they saw me, and invite a whole bunch of faces to their rave.

I reach out as they beckon, but there’s a clock wearing a silky tie, with the smaller side tugging on my wrist. The conversations turn into murmurs I want to hear, but

There I go, pulled to pixels, mouses (mice) and little squares taunting me, wishing to be poked at to make the DOW indices hop around.

Sorry guys, I have to pick the DOW

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Working for the white man #noRacism #coloursNsmells

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This is what I learnt from working for the white man:

  The rainy season will come each year, and so will the dry
  And bosses can be mean, they can be sad, they can be shy
  And life will move on even when the targets seem high
  And the team will be there, to scoff but sometimes say fie
  But they can lift you high with a good laugh, or just smile.
  I learnt to be humble in front of challenges, for God
  Put them there to shine through the successes we got.

Then,

This is what I learnt from working for the black man:

  The rainy season will come each year, and so will the dry
  And bosses can be mean, they can be sad, they can be shy
  And life will move on even when the targets seem high
  And the team will be there, to scoff but sometimes say fie
  But they can lift you high with a good laugh, or just smile.
  I learnt to be humble in front of challenges, for God
Put them there to shine through the successes we got.

And,

This is what I learnt from your puzzled mind:

We’re all the same deep under, and the colour doesn’t determine
  What success or failure or iniquity or sanctity you bring.
Black, white, dark, spiked, light, night, yellow, mellow,
  I’m looking at you looking at me, but we’re all one big shadow
On this sphere spinning in nothingness. That colours, smells
  Are just ways to make the labrador hate hounds and spaniels.

I learnt to be humble in front of challenges, for God
Put them there to shine through as we merge into one pod.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Fear #nothing

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The roaches are tangoing with the spiders, near a tavern full of bats, humming the melodies snakes taught them. It’s dark, and ghosts look on at vampires going from bat to ghastly human…and they are all conspiring to do one thing: GET YOU!

Did I just describe what your fear looks like?
When your heartbeat sits on the top pike
And your breath loses control on the broken dyke?

Breathe, breathe. You break into sweat clinging at your sheets in the dark.
It’s just a nightmare: soon the sun’s light will bathe the singing of the lark.

(c) Nyonglema