Categories
love sadness

Peace in the Wind #Zaumu #Sampson

Requiem aeternam tibi, my dear brother, my dear friend. 
You sought peace on Earth, may you find peace in heaven. 
RIP Sampson Lemongoe Zaumu till we meet again. 



The golden glitter of floating clouds lift up the wings
On the plane that carves out the way home.
You stand and out your beard
Breaks the smiles of years cheered
By you and me thinking, saying, and doing the little things.

On the plane that carves out the way home,
I watch you go again: you never learnt to stop
Until every task was done,
And joy was everyone,
And hearts spoke songs to each other in peaceful tomes.

I watch you go again: you never learnt to stop!
Nature set you back, the roads with vile treacherous trap
Tried to take the clock
But you never take a knock,
You never say enough, you give and give, but never give up.

Nature set you back, the roads with vile treacherous trap
Changed our smiles for fears, our cheers are tears,
But you wiped them away
Telling us to be okay,
While hoisting these little kids upon your fatherly lap.

Changed are smiles for fears! Our cheers are tears
Swelling inside and up our aching heart to our faces,
Pouring out to be with you
Seeking the tender “mchew”
That says “It’s ok”, “It will be ok”, “Uh lahte”, “Why the fears?”

Swelling inside and up our aching heart to our faces
The dreadful whispers to Job seek our parched lips
Wishing to curse the world
In chaos and pain to all unfurled
But the memory of that bearded smile halts those paces.

The dreadful whispers to Job seek our parched lips,
Like daggers to our hearts, but Mary took more than all,
So calling on our Lord,
As we watch you gently soar,
May the golden glitter of floating clouds lift up the wings
Of the angels taking you to her advocate arms, calling
You to join the choir singing Hosanna to the King of Kings. 

(c) nyonglema

Categories
anger sadness

Cuties

Fear of facts, fear of truth, fear of standing out.
Fear of fraternal correction, fear of the hypocritical mob: 

"Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear." - Alan Paton


I'm a teacher where the future flows from 
The ground. I water in the shadow of the clouds, 
As the sun fails at peeping at me, smiling proud. 

These tender blades look like mini green swords
Although the arid air wishes to suck out the breath
That fills their stomata, replacing it with death. 

Cool air rushes round my feet, as I side-step
My precious lawn. Nature and I collaborate 
To heal the future, and watch it elaborate. 

But the clouds suddenly shift and the peeping sun, 
Like a Netflix nightmare, smiling at innocence, 
Paints them brown forever in masked silent violence

(c) nyonglema
Categories
sadness

Socially Mediated Tyranny

Rivers have always flowed from frosty 
Caps on lonely mountains, down through tired
Valleys, washing debris, trees, and bringing 
Life wherever they go. Splashing around, 
The water winds round rocks that would stop
It. 
But it continues, tunneling through hills, 
Unstoppable. 

The river of life gets dashed against rock
But also smiles round the same rock. 
Smile, camera. 

You switch on your phone and the f
Calls your fingers into a world of glossy 
Glam. Flowers are more flowery, 
And trees are more greenery, 
And meals are more beefery, 
But teal seem to be in the tealery
As each image tells you this truth: 

"You ain't sh....opping at the right shops! 
Your meals are too ordinary. Even your 
Guardian angel must be a frail-looking 
Nerd without the brains to match the title, 
But with just the brawn that can't lift an axle. 
You too don't have the six pack to share 
With friends; the thumb icon seems to point 
Down just for your life, Hearts for their smiles, 
Smiles, camera. 

Who cares where the river runs really straight, 
Uneventful, looking lazy, like mere luck? 
My Geography teacher, with his spitting glasses
Told me (while I covered my face from, you know...)
And showed me the meanders, the rapids, the water-
Falls, the deltas, oxbow lakes, tributaries, 
And I asked: "What do we call this straight part?"
And as he spoke, my mind floated away to possible names:
"Never on social media episodes"
"No need to take a picture moments"
"Too ordinarily nice for TV"
"Guttural silly laughter, not smiles"
"No smiles, no camera"

For we only pause to take a breath at 
The punctuation, 
That fills the river, the river, of life. 
Then we extrapolate from those singular 
Moments of beauty, happiness, whateverness, 
And assume that the tree bark is just 
As green as the leaves we glimpsed.
Walt Disney figured this out really fast, 
And Mickey danced on the pages. 

You ain't sh... owing your talent. 
They are. 
Because that picture said so, 
And a less-than-a-second capture of light
Is worth more than the ebbs and flows of your life,
Like that punctuation wasn't part of 
A longer sentence... 

Oh! That we may all see that
The river of life gets dashed against rock
But always smiles round the same rock.
Smile, camera

(c) nyonglema
Categories
sadness

Juneteeth

The waves pull at the lugs of the wind-smiling boat
Where jokes are thrown, and hope of home stays afloat. 
But beneath the wood, in dark damp despair
The souls piled in bodies in chains gasp for air. 

Captured in fields of butterfly-filled chanting grass
Where children's smiles once lit love in these paths, 
Now wishing death, escape, drowning, as the waves tossed
Their past away, carrying them to the land of the lost. 

Finally off the cramped hell of human faeces and decay, 
On a dais where bids are called, and theyget whisked away
To serve the farm. This was freedom from seaborne pain
Just to be enslaved, and cut and hurt once again. 

Their brothers off to Arabia, or further to the same fate
Had warned of this predicament, and now they're in their state
Hoping for a day when a heart is changed and the impossible
Becomes blood on this continent to unhinge their shackles.

                 ***********

What's freedom? 
The shackles have fallen off the scars 
That held back my breath. 

Opportunity smiles the seduction of the 14th of February
And I say yes, reach out, looking to a future, looking 
Beyond to joy, beyond death. 

The eagle soars to survey and seek its prey, as I ride 
Peacefully building a future where my kids will be eagles
To pray the prayers that freed my heart, to dream the dream 
That Washington, Lincoln and Martin Luther King dream, and 
Put the whip back into its sheath. 

                 ***********

But my brothers are still stuck. 
I watch as I soar how the nest of worms appeals to them. 
The chain is gone. 
They seek a new master to shelter them from the 
Predators of the world; 
They call to this master to take their cross, and bear 
It, and give them some cotton to feed their fears. 
Melanin comes to the table. 
He builds a bull of gold, and they bow. 
"Oh Melanin, you brought us out of the slavery in Egypt
Out of the Slavery in Libya, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait
Out of the bowels of the slave ships on the Atlantic, 
You brought us out of slavery, 

Now enslave us to your will. 
Make us wholly thine. Where you command we will go"
So he did. 
And beautifully decorated by their bull,
Now, their lives matter. 

(c) nyonglema

Categories
sadness

Enough #needVSwant

I've had enough of babies whining with beards,
Like the umbilical hair under their noses were trunks
To feel the ground for the hole in the chest thump.
I need, I need, I need. 
That kneads folly into dough for a cake of hate
Just because nobody had enough of cake...or of greed. 

I want to tell you the tale of how to tell apart 
The want of the brat to the needs of the heart. 

One word fellows, one word: ENOUGH. 
When the desire is infinitely insatiable, 
Then you're sure a want sits at the table. 

You can have enough love, 
Yet no number or size of glistening carbon 
Can adorn the beloved to satisfaction, 
And no white dress is beautiful enough. 

You can have enough hope, 
To go through the enemy's fray, but
No number of weapons, nor manner 
Nor style is enough to guarantee victory your way.

You can have enough food, 
But Twix, Snickers, Rafaelos, Mars, Fazer, 
Ragusa, Mambo, Rondo, Soya, can all be 
In infinite supply, eaten ad nauseam

You can have enough water, 
But crates go down the toilet pipes
And vodka drowns the neurons, and 
Amarula bottles are best when see-through. 

Indeed, as you can see it clearly appear, 
Needs enough, wants feed eternal greed:
And since ingratitude blinds the boundaries of all, 
When the desire is infinitely insatiable,
Then you're sure a "want" sits at the table.

(c) nyonglema





Categories
sadness

The Joneses

The in-crowd is where the ornaments
Dangle and glisten like snow-clad trees
Only
It's not snow-clad in 35°C humidity with dust
Clinging on the squinting bike rider's eyes, 
As I arrive my destination and see the neighbours
Boasting with their engines, and wheels. 
I'll get mine some day. 
Judas borrowed life for a day to make 
Something, 
Something's what I need now. Brand new car. 
I'll sell a soul for that. Mine? Yours? 
Lend me yours, or part of your chores. 
No not the chores, but what the bank sees. 
I'll pay you back just after this Louis V, 
This Choos by Jimmy, and after I have my GL 550. 
Yes I'll pay you...believe that! 
I'm just trying to stay ahead of the pack, 
Where I've always been at the back . 

(c) nyonglema
Categories
sadness

Agreed #not

1961 it was agreed....not
1972 it was agreed....not
1984 was not agreed...but
1996 it was agreed....not
2008 was not agreed...but
2019 it will be agreed...but

The problem falls flat on its face and dies in indifference
When the math problem is set all wrong: what + what = 552?
The commissions are the sub-plots of a Disney movie
Where we know the hero gets the girl, the bad guy goes boo-hoo
There's a guy for comic relief, and everybody is a virtuoso.

What + what, comes with degrees of freedom
That you will not have when you start with the solution.
The minds of people bubble around the room,
Vain pain; Cain would be proud of what the Maestro said:

"I wanted to dialog, but you didn't come
I even gave you everything, yet you want this to burn?
Well I've tried it all, boss! Artillery, its your turn (again).

(c) nyonglema
Categories
sadness

Where is Ambazonia?

Where the grass grows in zig-zags, and the trees
Planted in rows, lift their weight to offer to God.

Where the pavements long for walking, and the
Buildings ache to breathe, choked in silence.

Where the hearts beat to the rhythm of barrel drums,
And the ears listen for smoke, blood, and laughter

Where the buildings pick up circular pieces to hide
Their Dalmatian-themed painting of despair and calibres

Where brother kills brother for dialog to be stifled;
Where words are stabbed with the bayonet and hope gets rifled.

Where once great minds spoke English, planned futures,
And debated all the various features of said futures.

Where once you lived, and smiled, and laughed to care,
But now duck and shiver, bleeding and gasping for air.

(c) nyonglema


		
Categories
sadness

You are racist

I still remember when being called "Racist" 
Meant the end for anybody...You'd break in fits
Like " ...Gabadadadja...me? Racist???! Nooooo way!"

But when the word gets wrapped in political cloak
And swung around to avoid clarifying what one spoke
Then we have a reaaaaal problem, a biiiiiiig problem.

If you criticise a black person, then you're absolutely racist
And if you think black people can excel with only bases
Their brains, brawn and determination....it's like "whaaaaat?"

Noooooo, the past was a one-sided bloody calculated joke
On this poor folk, they will never get up with broke spokes!
They can't pedal out of shit creek, we need a loooong rope

They're Princess Toadstool with a white supremacist Bowser,
Waiting for Mario (the white not-supremacist brother)
Who believes she is equal to him, but must saaaaaave her

Like he couldn't ask her help, because being equally capable as him
But of course incapable of healing from the tears of a past so grim ,
She needs help, and couldn't contribute even ooooooooooooone bit.

I still remember when being called "Racist"
Meant the end for anybody...You'd break in fits
Like " ...Gabadadadja...me? Racist???! Nooooo way!"

But today, some fools have made it okay, and real racism hides out,
And no, history and facts show it's not in today's White House,
It's those creating minority victims by whining more than the bereaved.

(c) nyonglema
Categories
sadness

They steal our resources #DonQuixote

What stories were you told as a kid? Bedtime stories? 
The wall whispers to me "You'll be nothing!
It's been rigged, see, the Earth is being pulled off
To show what lies beneath, and "They"
Want a crater beneath that."

"They" sounds like a strange name for anybody.
I hear "They" colonised African countries ,
Then "They" took all the resources,
Then "They" kept Africa under 1 dollar.
"They" have power.

While "We" pilfer the poor's taxes,
Build roads in an Oculus Rift, "We"
Mass-murder those who think different,
Take off those brains so all stop thinking,
Take off the teachers, the doctors,
Lest one takes a needle to stitch one back together.

"They" tell us what to do, and not wanting our welfare
Give "We" loans, and aid, and technology, and more
Well "They" want what's in our soil,
And "We" sell it to them.

Only you can't complain when you sell something can you?
Like Mugabe seizing lands traded for weapons or more
Or Africans asking the return of their wares' descendants,
Or at least some reparation, for the low price got on
Their brothers: some sort of bonus for good performance?
So you get to be paid double, and get back what you sold?

When I hear that wall whispering, I think of the poem
Dad told me to recite: "Mr Nobody" written by nobody.
I guess it's easier to swing your sword at virtual windmills
Than at yourself when you are the source of all the trouble

And "We" still pilfer everything we own,
Thinking what we own are rocks beneath the Earth,
While the children are either buried in those rocks,
Or their education forgotten till all actually become rocks.

(c) nyonglema