Glitter rushes through the calling glass
Beckoning. I’ve seen that bag before!
Becky had the same statement of absolute class
Gleaming: “Without me you can’t be more.”
Dressed in flowing satin dancing Chanel
Lush lips to highlight the artwork of her face;
Luxurious yet fierce. Absolute dazzle slowly rappels
Down that dress, painting it in even more grace.
MINE the dazzle, MINE the smooth show of beauty
As I cross the threshold to the solution to my
Awe-inspired longing to be just like that Becky.
Mimicry shall cast all burdens off into the sky!
Mingle in the same shops, wear the same brands,
Trans the same kids, abort at the same rate
Trade husbands for solitude to join the same band:
Mimicry amasses curses in the same crate!
(c) nyonglema
Category Archives: sadness
Suffering Agony, suffering, hurt, anguish
Sadness Depression, despair, hopelessness, gloom, glumness, sadness, unhappiness, grief, sorrow, woe, misery, melancholy
Disappointment (Dismay, disappointment, displeasure)
Shame (Guilt, shame, regret, remorse)
Neglect (Alienation, isolation, neglect, loneliness, rejection, homesickness, defeat, dejection, insecurity, embarrassment, humiliation, insult)
Sympathy (Pity, sympathy)
The forgotten bunch
Glass windows protect my comfort
As I look out at his scraggly beard,
The sun drawing shadows on his face
Through graying hair with no purpose.
His jacket would have hid from the sun
For having seen it too long, parched,
Dying over his shirt of plaid polyester,
Whose main color is anything from red to black
As crust and stain mark its age.
His pants, cargo gray or grayish had
Fought many battles and could prove it.
Cup in hand, looking up from his cart
For which he probably had a mortgage
Filled with cardboard furniture and belongings,
Despair conversed with his hair’s shadow.
He then goes from to car to car and I ask:
“How much did we just send to Ukraine?”
His shoes had paid many taxes and rushed
To save, contribute to build this nation,
But all have forgotten him now
(c) nyonglema
Piece Perfect Piece
On the July 2nd, 2026, the SSPX were excommunicated for their disobedience. This brings to mind the rupture in the Church that was the Reformation. Let’s pray for obedience, humility and the love that binds broken hearts once again in mercy. Let’s pray that the garment once again ripped up by clergy fighting clergy , clergy challenging authority over doctrine, while the sheep suffer, may be mended once again. This perfect piece of creation God set apart for Himself once again in torment!
Kyrie eleison!
Piece, perfect piece in this dark world of sin?
All called by Jesus to whisper peace within.
Piece, perfect piece, by warring clergy stressed?
To do the will of Jesus should be rest
Piece, perfect piece, with sorrows surging round?
Oh Jesus’s seamless garment torn by hounds
Piece , perfect piece with loved ones going astray?
In Jesus’s keeping we’ll be safe on that day.
Piece, God’s perfect piece, where truth must sure increase?
In Jesus, blurs that lead hearts quickly cease
Piece, perfect piece which earth to Heaven steers?
Lord Jesus, teach us mercy towards our peers
Piece, perfect piece, all prideful struggle flees?
When Jesus calls to Heaven’s perfect peace.
Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown?
Jesus we know, and He is on the throne.
(c) nyonglema
Inspired by: Peace, Perfect Peace by Edward Henry Bickersteth
What they borrowed in the 60s
Mystery.
History.
Blistering words from the shepherd’s mouth
Readily inters hopes of the interested youth.
Awe-stricken
Love-driven
But tradition’s the cur crashing the wedding party
Where saints soared, and is welcome no more.
Mystery’s now history.
The altar rail? Rolled out, burnt up or trashed.
Baroque over-the-top vestments got rehashed
Into lone wolves calling the moonlit heavens
Replacing gold-adorned lions glittering in sunny havens
Flowery kaleidoscopes of holy things seeming
To tell the story of angels singing, teeming
When the banquet brought Heaven to lowly earth
And hearts bought heavily through a horrid death
Breathed in unison at the choir’s echoes. The history
Now destroyed. Gone and forgotten mystery.
Blistering words from the shepherds’ mouths
Readily inter the hope for staying true
Why? Out with the tried and true
In with the unknown untried new
The interested youth must learn something new
For saintlike worship is now stale and foul.
But the victory remains with He that wins all,
Who wrought all, Who once in death enthralled
Fought our way out. Yes!
Restoration will come and through all and in all
There will be glory, beauty, truth, and hope!
A return to the kaleidoscope of holy things teeming:
History!
Mystery!
Glory!
(c) nyonglema
Shower, song and tears
It’s cold.
The water rivulets stab the hairs on my back
Till each like morning soldiers at attention,
Raise and pose. Water on my face is salty
Drop by drop rushing through the silence
Staring back at me in distorted human form
On knobs that don’t know you,
On a shower column that knows too
Well how to bleed without the red.
Sing! Break the silent solitude
With one of your songs!
A heart heaving for distant love
Mustering the strength to echo our words:
“Nell oscurità”. That’s where I am.
“Stretti forte e poi”. Poor me, not here.
Then choke. I replace the shower.
The pain hits pause to my singing, but
My eyes bent over towards the ground
Keep watering the glistening tiles
Like to grow you out of them right here.
But you’re not here.
You’re there where my heat cannot reach
And though promised soon to be, right now
The world’s but a cemetery with only you,
As my bowed head pours out, seeking you.
And the whole world misses your embrace
And the whole world is worse off for it.
(c) nyonglema
De Oude Kerk: Exile
Rusty stones of rich history,
Clasping debauchery and misery.
The luster of lauds that built
So sturdy and sacred a monument
To human ingenuity is gone.
The glory of God has left this place.
When men for comfort seek the less,
Placing their trust in self to impress
One another, human ingenuity is gone
For adventure's the empty pews and
Hope is the incensed processions replaced
By tourists, for God has left this place.
Carved and chiseled with ancient craft
Shaped by sun and rain and stringent draughts
She stands forgotten , old brown, dead windows,
While bustle rushes past the oldest building
of Amsterdam. Just that: The oldest building.
Heaven once met Earth right here, in this place.
But incense's been traded for coffee shops,
The light of His abode molded by red on top,
And the pentagon, that once let in light
Looks on the stone streets where spirits die.
Oh how low the hope of man has really fallen,
Not to see what could be, right in this place
Where's your crucifix oh ancient bauwerk?
The tourists go in and out, I dare not
My tears well. Where's your light? Salt?
The colors around ignore my pain.
Sin's for sale. Oh woe be all that
Took God's glory out of this place
(c) nyonglema
de Oude Kerk - exile in full view
DINTS
Divorce, severing hope and mercy from promise
Is a desert of dust-laden rushes of sand:
Not loud, yet sapping health and all peace.
The quiet hides despair's gold-veiled bland
Solution to the problem of evil: Suffer!
(c) Nyonglema
Interesting take: A Homily on Marriage
Kery James – La Rue ça fait mal (translated)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0aLlrEEH4c
Verse 1
You’re using ink, I’m inking with tears
Missing those links cos I saw their flesh tear
I’m from the hood not the set of Jaws,
Hid my prints doing my childhood chores
Whatcha thought, bro?
In these black holes, whatcha saw bro?
They offed my homez, and then torched the corpse
I’m carrying the lead that beats your hardcore
Pre Chorus
I don’t turn gangster once in a studio
Six feet interred, that’s how curtains close
Fireworks flare, shells, lifeless ‘n silent
Try using tears to feed fire hydrants
Chorus
How deep these streets hurt (x3)
How deep these streets hurt, we might’ve got used to living with dirges
Verse 2
You paint with ink, I’m painting my strife
Ain’t got a mirror, bro I’m using my knife
My heart’s too dense to buy your mirage
No daydreams in this dark garage
Whatcha thought, bro ?
In your black holes, I know what I saw bro:
They offed your homez but you just can’t be sure
You’ll be in denial till you meet at the morgue
Pre Chorus
I don’t turn gangster once in a studio
Six feet interred, that’s how curtains close
Fireworks flare, shells, lifeless ‘n silent
Try using tears to feed fire hydrants
Chorus
How deep these streets hurt (x3)
How deep these streets hurt, we might’ve got used to living with dirges
Verse 3
To all who’ve lost a loved one to a firearm
To the mums living like without their arm
To the dads crying out their heart’s solitude
Waiting to die, totally destitute
Years of education now stuffed into a box
When you tote steel, you’ll one day have to pop
The hood’s booty calling, you want a fine ride?
Dude you’ve got sugar mixed up with cyanide.
Chorus
How deep these streets hurt (x3)
How deep these streets hurt, we might’ve got used to living with dirges
(c) nyonglema
Literal questions idiots literally ask
Is Schrödinger’s cat dead and alive? Does evolution explain the start of life? Can naturals make 2 + 2 five, Or bacteria make a metal fife? Is it safe to go piñata with a hive, Or ignore and let a fungal infection thrive? Can a human claim to have dog feelings? Or the rind of oranges be potato peelings? Can a wheat plant bear maize seedlings In Antarctica, Iceland or the Straits of Bering? But there is dumber yet: Who sowed the farmer? Who sewed the seamstress? Who baked the baker? Who raked the gardener? Who fried the chef? Who dyed the stylist? Who fabricated the engineer? Who programmed the programmer? And the worst of all: Who created God? (c) nyonglema
What could have been?
What if the presidents cared? They said victory was imminent. With evil intent, with barrel on fatigue, Beads on mud-caked scentent string, Leaves so scared they're now silent, Trees hearing the slaughter of a pig, While life goes on in the battle ring. Few years back there was a mountain Where silicon budded genius software jigs. Yet eyes were closed on everything. Where were those billions you're now bent Over backwards to send over leagues To warring factions wearing hope thin? Yeah! What if the presidents cared? My people die for lack of wisdom. Life is nothing but an excuse to loot. Life is nothing but dirt to be trampled Upon when upside down is the kingdom, Wishing to have a neck under a boot As a solution to pain, Wishing that ample Resources can paint the soil crimson. Did you care when they dropped out? Did you bear those same veins on your temple When hunger ravaged the mother's bossom? Where were the millions to soothe And bring hope and make nimble? How many books did you garrison? How many teachers did you arm? How many laboratories have you loaded With new tech to break them out the prison? For cultures have marched out of harm By focusing on growth not the goading. So the victory still seems imminent, With evil intent, with barrel on fatigue The kids out of school, the schools on fire, Leaves so scared, they all went silent, Trees hearing the slaughters on the hills, While you fuel the hateful mire. (c) nyonglema
