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)

sadness

Believe

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My people have beliefs as full as the Grand Canyon,
They’ve been taught to dream as high as it is high,
And to fear as deep as it is deep.
Their dreams are as colourful as the sand of the Sahara,
While they’d been thought to dream as high as the dunes sigh
And to bear as little fear as slipping down the slip-face.

There was a time they trusted in the might of their minds,
And wrought marvels in Odyssey’s of thought and craft.
The clay bent to the swiftness of the hands, and the iron
Broke to form new ornaments, and the copper caved in to
Adorn their bracelets, amulets, rings, and gold, the gold that
Beckoned loud to danger from the shores, laced royal
Vestments, worshiped the throne and cast the light
Rushing through the windows onto the king’s roof from
The crown. The scholars sang pyramids, monoliths, wrote
Them down on wood, on stones, on plants, in minds, in hearts,
The griots drummed away and the engineer turned down the volume
And it all faded from memory, till all left was silence.

A silence as loud as a pride chasing a million buffaloes
In a 1920s movie. As bland as a rainbow painted as seen
By Andrea Bocelli. My people have lost it all in injustice,
In what lies in the government’s hair: all lice.
And as the air thickens about the future, and nobody cares,
My people wish for the status quo, knowing tomorrow
Will just be another today, just deeper in the burrow.
But everything must end someday, even sorrow.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

Talking with bullets? Lose-Lose #Cameroon

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It was easier before:
    The cock crowed, Jesus turned, the tears flowed
    The cock crowed, I turned, and the shower flowed
    The cock crowed, luck turned, and tears flowed.

Easy solutions were easy to get while things were easy
But nine stitches rhyme with nine lives in their sick essay,
So time stitched hell and instead of being stitched in time
The fabric gaped open to swallow into its darkened slime
The baby, the bath water, the room, the parents, the villagers,
The fires, the char, the innocent, the pillaged, the pillagers.

It was easier before:
    But we always want more, and the tears flow
    But we always want war, and gun showers flow
    But we always taunt luck, and the tears flow.

Easy solutions were easy to get but Greed’s chains are titanium
Laced in a diamond lattice tying down the maestro of pandemonium.
The constitution had saved once, but those promises fell into the slime
Stitched by hell to cut workers’ pockets to benefit organised crime
Where everybody wants favour, everybody seeks the power to sign
At the expense of kids’ futures, mothers and fathers crying.

It was easier before:
    But now I need a visa, and I may not go
    But now I need a visa, to live in my own home
    But now I need a visa, to live.

Easy solutions will be easy to get where competence is worth any
But everybody wants favour, so logic took a stray bullet in the alley
And Cameronians closed their eyes on children crying
Everybody closed their eyes to the economy slowly dying
As if we were not one! I say we are one, and this war cannot be won
Until we become truly one: citizens, leaders (citizens), doing all to brighten the sun

It was easier before:
    But now everybody is strapped, like that fixes anything
    But now everybody is trapped like they can’t fix anything
    But you wear your ego like that fixes anything!

It is still easy now:
Let’s get back to being humans, talking with humans.
               That
                  fixes everything

(c) nyonglema

sadness

Blocked #writersBlock

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Writer’s block is writing blocks all over me
To the point that worlds of words whirl
Round my head, enticing, yet I’m hyperbole
Of silence, absence. The blank page beckons
At muses from Italy, Stratford ‘pon Avon, the sea
And more, yet I’m nature’s tantrum in a tea cup.
I blame the clock: it’s inner workings have slowly
Robbed me of potential to let the ink rave
Over time, I’ve stood, poring at its inconsistency
Writing bullet and burn holes over all hope
And plunging the madness into deeper fallacy
While the Maker’s tears pour over a forsaken breed.
And I pause to breathe, wish to utter but heave.
I blame the clock. Looking up at it in early years,
I saw shadows of joy, but shadows? I didn’t understand it.
So, the words whirl and twirl me, and I’m drowning,
Deeper, drowning in a silent absent blanket.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

The End….#Cameroon #CivilWar

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May never come.
The orcs hold up the putrid decay once a man’s foot
Sniff it and toss it into the cauldron, and scratch
The bumps on their backs dancing to the rays of the
Flames. There are not enough. They must hunt.
They need more, more, more.
A snort and off into the wild to get more blood
Take more lives.
The prophecy foretold of Dylogus, who would slay
The orcs, but when he was born, a sword
Visited his jugular vein, and his body the
Intestines of these vile creatures.
The sticks scream under the orc’s steps, the leaves
Rush out of harm’s way, and human laughs
Turn to blood-gurgling screams, and
All mourn Dylogus, and there’s growing sense
That the end of suffering was killed with him too.

(c) nyonglema

To all losing their lives in this senseless civil war, RIP: God’s got you.

Pray, pray that there’s an end to the madness. I have hope about the future, but bear great fear as well.

sadness

Headlines deaths #fakeNews

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The sun went for a walk

Is the summary for an essay on the movement of the sun in the galaxy.

War was declared

Is the summary for an article on the war against weeds in granny’s farms.

Your son failed

Hides the fact that he passed ten subjects and failed the one, just one.

John hates Christians

Is a research article on why John hates Christians who wear weaves on their faith

Free snacks here

Is the sign at the boisterous shop where the cheap snacks are honest and the rest need cash

President pardon

Doesn’t even make sense, and you stare at the underlined blue text then swipe left.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

The Well

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Well, remember Otis Redding saying “You don’t miss your water”, such truth exists everyday. Greed makes us forget what we have, till it’s gone….

Nobody sees the hole in the ground whence the buckets bring life.
The ropes are made of glass, the silence of their drop into darkness
Leaves no awe. Nobody claps when in heaves and puffs, a third day
Miracle happens and pours its bounty into waiting vessels on arid
Earth starved of life so long the cracks would show, like a
Web cast to trap the Earth in a black widow’s embrace; nobody
Cheers.

     Yet, the sad day comes when the rise is as barren
As everything else around: sand, dust, grit, death. The tongues
Seethe in the noon sun seeking solace that they never sought,
Noticing the absence of what was there but was never thought
of. The glances walk from eye to eye, face to face, to whisper
Questions that none can answer. Yet no answer will change the truth:
      The well went dry, then men will cry.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

Tomatoes in the Wagons #stopWar

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When I think of the wars in Cameroon, my mind goes to Asa’s Fire on the Mountain: “Could it be love for your country, or for the gun you use in killing?” she sings.

I think she missed the “greed” question, that could desire to sacrifice human life to sustain the funding of the war, and generate income for some uncanny souls. Well finite are the resources, finite are the humans


Tossed around in the wagons, the tomatoes bounce on each other
Squashed one at a time on a path they didn’t decide
On a path they must follow like human life.
Then the owner calls to the controller
And the engineer, yet noone hears
And squash, splat, squash
Till all left
Is just
One…

(c) nyonglema

sadness

Trust #onLifeSupport

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A big thanks to Social Media. Yeah, thanks.
We’re all connected now, whispering with our thumbs,
Sharing the crumbs of our lives, and connected
Through our lively screen to millions of others
Like us with their friends. Dear friends.

My Facebook page says I have 261 people whom I
Can confide in, share my cleanest and dirtiest,
Hold on to theirs, share deep memories with.
Facebook calls them my “Friends”.

My Twitter page says I have 75 disciples.
They hang on my every word, and I’m the disciple of
Nearly as many as well.

Well I noticed that keeping my secrets in the minds
Of my 261 was a little challenging through F2F …
You know the good old face-to-face with no listening walls?
So I just blast it to them all at the same time.
My life’s their entertainment, and theirs mine,
And theirs theirs.

Then I noticed I couldn’t keep their secrets in my mind
So, I just browse, like, retweet and forget,
Unless it is critical.

Then I noticed that nobody trusts anybody anymore.
Then I noticed that elections will be contested,
Conspiracy theories like poisoned mushrooms
Will cloud our vision till reality recedes to oblivion.
I noticed that everybody will see the Devil everywhere,
And since social media has trained us to be different
By conforming to what different means,
Which simply means be like everybody else,
But in a different way:
(just look at our smartphones…the only difference is
The letters on them …so mostly same, but different),
We are starting to see a Devil in the mirror
But the comments say “You’re good, you’re cool”
With a thumbs up, a heart, a wink and more,
So we believe them, but of course with a pinch of salt.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

Something fishy #discrimination

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My colleague wants the Art of Zen, in French of course
Translated from Japanese…I suppose, for they started it.
But she wants it from the UK…I’m like: “That’s horse –
Shopping in the middle of the ocean…they’re more likely
To stock it in English, you see. But I’ll search in Italy”.
Then, I find myself in Dakar at some point, and while walking
In the mall, a bookstore calls to me. I go toward it.
They don’t have it, neither here nor at Mermoz. But the thing
That hangs on my brain like a shroud, while the lady pours
Out the information is the fact that English books are here.

Think about it: this is an all French country, colonised
By France, having spent all their lives with them.
They had books in English, and games too …to my surprise.
Then I asked myself about other countries, which should be
Carrying these as standard, where books would be
In every stall in 2 languages as per their constitution.
And my heart sunk. I felt pain for every single one of them
In such countries, where language replaces skin’s function
In the minds of those who wear hate like a hat I despise
And cower to the custody of morbid segregation and fear.

Well, prejudice is a but a bug in the universe’s most infant app
And it takes mere (not sheer) will to wipe it off our map.

Take up your napkins boys…it only seems hard.

(c) nyonglema

sadness

At the gate #missingYou

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So many faces, but none of them is you.
You know this feeling of the crowd anonymously many
And the voices I want to Shazam, for none of them is yours.
My plane is late again, and this pain lingers on
Like a foul smell in the air. I wish to be airborne
That I know you’re not a car ride away
That I’d know that I can’t hold you for good reasons
That the sword may go through the heart and kill me
Than linger over my chest like a purgatory leading to hell.

The pain will come, the pain will run as long as I’m not near holding you here, kissing you there, telling you that, whispering this, listening to those, holding you close.

But for now I’m at the gate, and the plane’s late.

I’m looking out the window to where you are, and I can’t go there, I can’t see you here.

So many faces, so many voices but I’m steeped in the silence and absence of you.

(c)nyonglema