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
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)
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
I hate messes too
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
Let’s be cannibals!
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
waghni 