The rain falls on the soldier's helmet.
But he can't shoot the clouds. So he shoots at the river.
Water is water. It flows, it pours, it spills, it glides:
Water is just water, even with fish blood in it.
A river's just water,
Even with once living creatures resting on its bed.
(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)
My secret is that:
Nobody knows that I died a long time ago.
But she would have known,
Even from the slab at Melen.
She just slept.
She never liked hard surfaces,
Preferring the 6 cushion couch
Of red yellow and orange circles of my childhood.
I still remember the watery smells that danced the Burlesque
Of firefly magic from Lake Wum on my childhood days.
The chairs sat under a family of 20 with 1 mother.
Yes, same chairs followed us to Yaoundé, where
She'd start the TV shows with me and then slip away.
Then I like a bad dream would slowly touch her skin awake:
"Mum you should go to bed now".
The show was over.
She would rise then go to sleep.
In a 6-foot hole in Baligham.
(c) nyonglema
Fair or Real, choose wisely
Real isn't reeled anymore out the tube.
It was rolled up before as snippets of the world, but with CGI
Nothing is as it was.
What should I believe? What should you believe?
Man saw the void and with words and steel
Said let there be light, and so it was, and night was day
And day was day, there was neither evening nor day.
Then they flooded pieces of land, and dried up seas
And tweaked the plants, and fiddled with DNA,
Spawning animals new and weird. Still no day.
And then they set about to make man
And woman
According to the images of the Vogue 2008 summer edition.
They looked on and saw it was good.
And rushed to teach our children:
1 + 1 depends on what your 1 means
A cell depends on what you want it to mean
An electron is whatever of those particles you choose
And Kirchoff's nodal law is even applicable to voltage
And your nationality depends on your heart's choice
And a mountain is an upside-down valley
And there still wasn't any day.
Men became women, women became men, and monkeys
Said they'd rather be called humanoid, or else!
The bonobos said they were descendants of wolves
While those who stayed off the green screen tried to say:
"If you jump of a 10-storey building, you will die".
But who is to believe them?
The green screen made Thanos!
(c) nyonglema
While there's a war on truth, now they add a threat to competition?
The solution to a special woman dominating sport is to suppress her?
It's unfair what they are doing to Caster Semenya, a woman,
meanwhile transgender women are allowed to participate with
"advantaged" bone and muscle structure from their DNA, even with
lower testosterone. Men remain on par with men even after sex change,
which puts them at an advantage over women.
Kanye was right…a little #Cameroon
"Who wants change?"
I stare at the last instants of my son
I bare my soul to the sun: scathe me! bathe me
In scars that will heal! The Saian
Promised that pain brings new shoots from the ground
But who shoots flowers from a gun?
But I see flowers rising from bullet-made mounds.
I stare at the last instants of my son
And bear my soul scathing under the sun. Sounds
Are muffled. Hope sang birds' songs
Before on the trees above my lawn. I don't know
That bird, but I sure know the song.
It was Schroedinger's cat predicting my future.
But who shoots flowers from a gun?
Nobody! Nobody believes anything else will come
Nobody bares their soul to the sun
That song is either dead or alive, but nobody's looking.
We all want to see that cat run,
We all want to hear that song, the bird's, you know
I stare at the last instants of my son,
For no finger will be lifted higher than abandon
No hand shall be lent, only backs bent in allegiance.
(c) nyonglema
Rubber #hurtsToo #cameroon
Where does Hope go to die?
Like the cat licking its wounds, wandering shiny eyed
In the dark damp dirt on the garden floor, wide
Fields it once climbed, now a pathway to a final purr,
Finding its way past life number nine?
Like the dog going to the vet’s as one before its master
Had shed a tear to heal it, today has a different plaster,
The colour of the objective seems a tad more obscure,
As they talk of “down”, “put”, “goodbye”?
Like a human standing at future’s door, fighting for entry
As teargas and bullets rush through clothes, skin, rendering
Panic in HD for those viewing the scene, sending the cure
They sought into hidden spaces where Fear and Hope battle?
Today the bullets picked the winner, and there was no tomorrow.
Hope dies when forces of order force order deep into a burrow.
(c) nyonglema
It burns not…#cameroon
They said.
Boko Haram just killed 17 Cameroonians in the Far North
Boko Haram's attack just foiled in the North
Two innocent people kidnapped in the Adamawa
Successful repulsion of incursion in the East
Ghost towns dominate in the North West
Blood bath on both sides in the South West
Ransoms requested in the West
And since Littoral, Centre and South are not in the pot
We can conclude that all is ok; the fire is not that hot.
(c) nyonglema
Watering cans #cameroon #bir #kamikaze
It’s a big question in my mind how much liquid earth can take?
Like if I were to empty litres upon the barren ground of caked
Desert, when does it overflow to stop my ambition of a lake?
Lakes are fun to be on: the waterjet splashes speed soaring,
The arms windmill to move you splashing, speeding, boring
Through the water, laughing, while fishes stare at nothing
Nothing is what the media said was poured on the ground
But I saw the litres ambition to be more than gunpowder sound,
And watering cans spilled their contents on watering can mounds
And in the mound it’s about 5 litres a-piece, slowly ebbing gross.
Blood has a thing for making my stomach curl, and loss
Has a thing for making my eyes unfurl. Both are plain gross.
Gross lies in the media proliferating gross lies to the public,
While watering cans….Did I just call humans farming objects?
Like we’re growing food for some starving child in our republic?
My republic? No a human with holes watering the ground won’t
Grow any food. Won’t heal any wounds. Won’t go out hunt,
Or caress a little kid’s cheek. But guns, guns, they’re totally blunt,
About causing blunt trauma to a nation seeking growth overall.
You can’t silence these cats once you set the nips on your garden wall
And they hang around, they multiply and make humans lamentation walls.
The wall of ego brings watering cans. The porous soil is tired.
Is the ambition to make a lake? Is the ambition for war to retire?
We’ll maybe never know, and till then deserts, blood, heaps, fire.
(c) nyonglema
Country off Law #Cameroon #freeMiMi
Truth, trough, through.
Health, stealth, felled
Truth brought joy the moment you spoke it
Troughs are where they went to stoke it
Through it they drove fire after spokes hit.
Health was what she had before she spoke it
Stealth was how New Bell made the stroke hit
Felled is the word to describe where hope is
Hope, a strange word,
It carries an upswing like a plane taking off,
Or like an uppercut swinging into your voice box
Either way, nobody raises a finger when truth
Is felled into a trough with thorough stealth
And the health of a nation cannot pull through
Every one stands and watches the vampire eat up
Their neighbour. Turns don’t go round, they stop
Just before the protagonist gets saved by his pop.
The lawyers got it, the teachers got it, the students
Got hit. The gutters are a comfy place to be lonely,
With sewage or not, all were potent (but sordid) portents
The chalkboard got covered with the same lesson like Bart,
“I will not speak against the old man with the darts”
“I will not speak truth, lies about him or his art.”
Silence is a crime. Violence is a crime. Living is like grime
Where slime fills your thoughts, and you can’t expectorate,
Because they expect you to with cocked rifle and unjammed nine
Just before the protagonist gets saved by his pop,
The vampire eats up the pop, and we realise this won’t stop;
Freedom’s Caesar at Pompei’s feet, gasping, gaped, you move to act but,
Breathe, heave, leave
Sigh, cry, die.
(c) nyonglema
Silence
Bullet holes never make noise.
The wife watching the blood ooze from her heart she had given to be kept
Will surely scream for help in a wilderness where hospitals are unicorns.
The kids watching will maybe be quiet in shock, for death is something
Strange, like an old unicorn, like a dying unicorn. Their tears will speak.
The assailants will most likely keep screaming and thudding, as they protect
Their team from the bullets they called for. Carrying their wounded and dead.
The guns will keep firing, as their owners pull their legs about freedom
And their bullets silently steal blood or steal souls like mini-Reapers.
The government will pass blame, the opposition will pass blame, and both
Will stay silent on how they can stop the bullets from making guns loud.
But bullet holes never make noise.
They just wring your heart, hopes, and joys in one silent instant, and leave you
Clutching your breast, squeezing the person who now must also remain silent.
(c) nyonglema
#RIP Charles Wesco. God’s got you.
In Justice
The cats have given way to the lions, which is but normal,
And the dogs have left the hyenas too, which is but normal.
The deluge is feeding the thirsty soil, then drowning it.
Crowds gathered and stuck their eyeballs to the CRTs,
Tuned their ears to the frequencies scrambling out the court
Or council, picking the words apart, indulging in idea sport
And clinging to one hope…the unspoken one, the forbidden one.
Then the judge and justice did the Rocky dance and none won
And the lawyers lied, then bent the truth, and justice died,
While a whole nation bent over in pain and cried.
Never had I seen injustice in justice, or madness in wisdom.
The deluge is so bad that Noah is thinking of making a comeback
To the land he saved once, to save again, to save our pack.
(c) nyonglema
