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
What if Mary and Joseph had come to you on Christmas Eve?
A donkey a man and two people in a woman. Navel points to dust as if to say: "Imminent". Winter's frosty bite's is too much trouble And if I give in to this sweet talking strong man, I might find myself therein rather imminently. For what whining with new life clatters through The halls of a hotel, where sleeping souls seek Solace, won't yank them out of wrangled slumber To complain, keep the gelten bag, then shoot A notice on my place: "Flee the Plague"? What if Cerberus licks baby and mother's Face in hearty welcome to where none seeks it? What to do? What to say? What to think, As soldiers enquire "Did he really smother?" and "Why?" Oh it causes me to tremble! Tremble, tremble oh soul of mine! Let them go to the next hotel in line For trouble's in the side-view mirror, Urging me on to walk into imminent horror But wisdom's mine: "Go! Goooo! You'll be fine!" (c) nyonglema
On a planet far far away, mental disease has become mainstream, the inhabitants celebrate it with oxymorons and absurd excuses:Why now do they hate me so? The hyena starving doesn't check whose toes! The tadpoles arguing don't let bros grow Even shark foetuses just let teeth go The chimps eat even chimps they know But why oh why do they hate me so? Why now do they say it's wrong? Tim White saw signs on Homo bones Gough's Cave has skulls, human ones Scythians, Fijians had it going strong Lake Matumba, Batetela, so much more But why oh why do they say it's wrong? The genes made it, didn't they? For DNA winds from centuries away Through humans who chose to live this way In wars, famine, some sought another day By sinking teeth where others delay But why oh why shouldn't we heed DNA? For brains this big chooose wisely! Reason rising beyond nature's dire need For logic in denying solutions and dying. Supplies tarrying calls for demystifying The flesh that abounds, but is yet denied! But why oh why do we our brains deny? Born this way, or grown this way, Nature or nurture's the hater's debate. We're born and we also choose this way So respect our choice and also our DNA, We'll fight to protect our chosen destiny While you wile away your living hate. (c) nyonglema
That hated smell of freshly applied disinfectant Fills echoey white corridors, silent and patient: Peacefulness is a child's smile, but there's no peace In the maternity as new Potential wormholes through Worlds, adding to the stench of good with a bad face That fills the hitherto silent and patient: kill germs, smell Bad; bring hope, sound sharp-metal-on-sheet-metal bad. ------ Let the waters come together to a single mass Bringing forth creatures to writhe and play Let the waters let appear many a land mass, Bringing forth creatures of varied colours and grade Let the Trinity sweeping over the water mass, In mud and rib, bring forth one and his half, For both to garden and care, with children had, To fill the garden and make worlds anew. BUT alas the urge to know the mastercraft That built such beauty with effortless class appeals To Eve, and the master's oversight snakes in To taunt his bride: to feed off fester: Our intellect our science have surpassed Creation. We know the why, how, where what. The tides, the stars, the Möbius strip Dalton's and Kant's intellectual flares, The PC, Android and the Metaverse Surpass creation's greatest feats. We now Should know ...no... decide evil from good. Tempting fruit and two bites later Itchy figs were clothes in spite of better "Where you are?" got an action as answer ------ The creatures brought forth in watery masses Jump to catch fleeing breath when water elapses. The creatures brought forth by the land masses, Crash or gulp watery death when the earth lapses And Man for all the science and mental gymnastics Is but a fleeting flutter failing without the apses. (c) nyonglema
“The rules are simple: they lie to us, we know they're lying, they know we know they're lying, but they keep lying to us, and we keep pretending to believe them.” ― Elena Gorokhova, A Mountain of Crumbs Lions brawn teeth hair fierce mane Death silent sentient salient insane First a scratch on marble, neglected It widens, all see it, neglect it Blood oozes pus, we gonna let it What's a little Fib to evil? One starts the rise to new levels Then one again before in shovels It leaps to hell totally disheveled 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21 Fibs eat laxity with no laxatives on 34 climbing up to 4-1-8-1 Eyes turn away; what's a little Fib growing? We'll find a way even when Truth's gone. Lions brawn teeth hair fierce mane No courage to face pain to heal game It's not all false, it's not all bane So let's pretend everything here is sane Let's let evil remodel and set its reign Death silent sentient salient insane (c) nyonglema
Nimbus clouds in the horizon cause me to panic. Growing up in the heart of the tropics Where storms would rush in and push down crops, Screaming at our windows, banging with water, Asking me to open and taste Noah's flood, What comes after nimbus seems familiar to me. The temperature drops, as the wind rises, And the sky goes from the blue that smiles On glistening leaves on grassy hills singing hope To a grey gloom gathering pain to dump on us. Expectant I rush to close the windows, Take in the corn, the egusi, the clothes: What can I do about imminent bad weather? Nimbus clouds in the horizon caused me to panic. Growing up in the heart of the trouble, Where storms would rush in and burn down crops, Screaming at our windows, banging with boots, Asking me to open and taste my own blood, What comes after greed seems familiar to me. When peacemakers were sent to jail To keep illegal funds alive for all, I saw bullets raining down on innocent Lives seeking justice, but seeing just this: Death, fires, death, destruction, death. What has been the darkest period in this? 24/10/2020? Or the baby in the bubbling oil? Or the beheaded teacher, or the beheaded cop? Or the razed villages, or Ngarbuh, or Fake dialogue, or refusal to bring peace? Nimbus clouds in the horizon caused me to panic. Not anymore. The rain pours from my eyes seeing dreams Splattered in pools of blood on school floors. "We will protect them!" Nobody did. The teachers, the parents are incriminated As grief seizes their hearts and constricts To kill, and swallow. But who cares? 7 dead, many living Where the bullets can still take them out. We focus on the dead, forgetting the living Living in a hell that bullets can't end. (c) nyonglema Eis requiem aeternam Dei : Victory, Jenifer, Princess, Telma, Rema, Syndi, ....
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.
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
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
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