Misunderstood
Like “Et tu Brute”
Like hating brothers,
Pain and love locked
Like “Et tu Brute”
Like hating brothers
Your cross is heavy.
Each day’s prayer begs to be
Answered, as despair is Romeo
Throwing pebbles at your roof.
But you don’t hear it,
You don’t fear it.
The world is a crystal from foreign shores.
You’re so far off it
Yet so near it.
They don’t get it.
(c) nyonglema
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.
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
The flies dart around his arid mouth, whose sides point to the outline of his ribs attacking his parchment skin. The ground looks exactly like him, though older
A lot older. His mum looks no different; well a little more distraught.
She seeks solace in an empty box, where cobwebs acquaint dusty air and despair.
Then there was the one who had everything he needed, but couldn’t get to any meeting in time. His car fought time in impossible battles where potholes had cheat-codes to rupture tyres, kill the shocks, and shock the monthly balance sheet
Sheets of mud made 10km look like 100km, and the traffic madness made everyday on Earth like an eternal repayment of evil.
Then there was the one who wanted more. He took the fruits of corporate toil to build an empire for him and his child, but Everest seems an easier prospect for each step of the investment process, for each step of the electoral process, for each step of the hoping process.
Processing files gets trickier each person you meet, and civil un-clarity is the clearest form of corruption to be your defeat.
But the international community knows that the most urgent way to solve years of poverty, pain, nepotism, despotism, murders, mass graves, mass rapes, massacres, genocide, homicide, fratricide, betrayal, civil disorder, civil unrest, political abuse, constitutional abuse, religious abuse, educational decline, moral decay, brain drain, societal decay in Africa is with one solution: the LGBT liberation.
The solution to the proliferation of AIDS is to urgently encourage the more dangerous copulation?
The solution to poor healthcare is to urgently create new health care issues?
The solution to hunger is to feed a pack of NGO-related lawyers?
The solution to political injustice is to replace the meaning of the rainbow in your constitution?
The solution to inefficient functionary service is to add new clauses barely understood?
The solution to failing education is to reform only to include the LGBTQ-etc?
The solution to repopulating after genocides or disasters or diseases is barren relationships?
Well…
The fall of every empire starts with political correctness and warped priorities; only…Africa is not even out of the ER yet.
Where should we focus more the aid we get, and our resources: on something that divides the civil society and is the least of our civil issues; or on educating our children out of the inferiority complex and dependency mentality?
I pick the latter.
(c) nyonglema
It all starts with the “genos” part:
If there’s no race, it doesn’t exist
So history gets braided into little kids’ hairs
Till they remember only the victor’s tryst
With death, in order to save our forebears
For graves never wrote history. A cyst
Of truth is hidden deep where the death of fear
Meets the death of youth at the barrel to the sun.
Lifafa is wiped with the shroud of Um
Till “genos” is but a word in beach sand.
And with no “genos” there’s no “cide” :
Self defence is the panacea of every atrocity
Little children with gaping brains
Young girls’ cocoons bitterly maimed
Young boys disappear to be brutally tamed
Humanity at the end of life gets hastened
And propaganda is Elvis doing a pirouette
On a 60s world stage where truth was left
In the cold of the theatre’s steps.
So no “genos”, no “cide” and the UN higher-ups can tuck their kids in cosy blankets, with Winnie the Pooh splayed along the left creases, give a forehead kiss, walk to their own bed, sleep and prepare for another non-eventful day at work.
(c) nyonglema
Hope for tomorrow,
Hope that yesterday’s pains were but steps to today
And that its joys were but steps to today.
Hope that it gets better.
It really could be worse, but it does get better.
Hope for tomorrow.
(c) nyonglema
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
When the floor has come fast against your face
The temptation is to stare there, and stay
Waiting for it to come off you and race
That you may keep running, it should the other way
But if the Earth has come to meet you
Feel honoured, and peacock your mind and chest
Then say “Bye”, and take the dust of too,
And just set off again to give your best.
(c) nyonglema
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
Happy Easter to all of you; Seek the Light as it pours into your hearts
Where can those chocolate eggs be?
Eggs beaten, made into omelettes.
They said you can’t make one without breaking eggs.
So God took a pan and broke a few…they sounded like bones:
The egg white as water, the yolk as heavy as blood.
Mine was, anyway, the promise of Adam.
I saw a curtain rip the Earth apart,
As a cross took God on a roller coaster ride
To a destination we all must go…but all fear to go:
Like wanting to go in a public toilet…but…
The yoke was heavy on humanity, and God broke it
He made us new, and I saw Mandela’s advice:
It went something like:
Aim not for your fears, but for your hopes.
So God bled tears on stone, and went for one hope:
That your soul (well our souls) would find light
Even in the deepest darkness!
He accepted the treacherous lips of death
And the deprecating thorns and cape that drew his blood.
He did it for you, that you may have new life with him
On the day He gave new life to Himself. Amazing right?
God died our days away with His pain, love, and light.
Those eggs look pretty that way….if any of this was about eggs anyway.
(c) nyonglema
Count your blessings
Hit the mark more often
Reading, Writing, Hearing and Tasting the Art of Life
When reluctance gives in to the urge of expression....
waghni 