fear, Others

Ego #divorce

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What are we teaching our kids? Life is becoming so demanding, that we don’t tolerate each other. Life has become so artificial, that we have forgotten that we are just apes trying to figure out how to make each day better.

As more and more couples break, I cry for humanity whose young are learning that this is normal, and our society which teaches to give up once they going gets tough, as if relationships were a bottle of vodka at the corner store: if you don’t like this one, you can have that one. Let’s walk the pain of life and relish it…that’s the only solution to abuse.

“Be strong, my child, never give up!”
The surgeon is pulling my soul out with kind words,
No anaesthasia, just kind swords hacking at me,
Taking away myself in lumps of tumour.
It had metastasised and eaten the bond away.
The bond that made me. The bond that made me me.

“You must be strong in the face of adversity”
Said he as instead of treating his humour
He became weak in the adversity of his university love.
I remember the smiles and kisses they told;
Stories of times that now seem wrinkled and old
Where they held hands, and wore bands
And raised lands, and made me.

“Never give up, never ever!”
Said he who was giving up on us
Giving up on me, because he couldn’t stand
To sacrifice anymore.
Because she couldn’t stand to grace his side no more,
No submission from either.
My tumour had birth a pride so big
It ate the bond, the bond, the bond that made me me.

“Learn to tolerate tough situations, they make you strong”
And two wrongs, only make me write
Pain in the blood of my cornea, calling to the corners
Of their hearts where love is boxed in, caged in,
Fighting larger-than-life versions of themselves
And losing, like my soul’s pain loosened to wander,
Yet I should bend only to my will, and tolerate
To be as successful as they’ve been along the way.

Ego.
Tolerate?
Ego.
Never give up?
Ego.
Fix me up, fix you up, fix us up?
Ego?
Like “No” from the depth of a grave,
I killed my family in Latin.

(c) nyonglema

joy

Beautiful way to die #snow

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The lily petals dance slowly silently till the ground is decorated,
Cold air pierces nature with a sharp spear till all is exterminated,
And the trees treasure the sun play on their silky winter fur
Which sucks life away from them, cell for cell, bur for bur.
The elk dons its party coat, to play over the frozen lake
Where fish have fled as if they heard its tummy speak hunger-ache

Wind tickles the laughter out of those petals, and children laugh
With sleds and sleighs, skis and skids, cars that don’t see and crash,
Balls thrown away, snow-women going to the delivery room again
To birth newer snow-people, while frost eats away at finger veins.
The silence…oh the silence, only broken by the music of the wind
As it rushes through the seams to steal a friend or a fiend.

The petals paint a picture, as if the store sold-out on colours
But awe, oh awe! Everything speaks the beauty of the Creator
Yet the purity of it all hacks your lips and nose, and hits your bones
Seeking to go deeper and freeze every single thing holding your soul.
Oh how less painful it is to feel the heat being teased away,
Staring at the Snow swirl and adorn Nature as a bride on her day.

(c) nyonglema

fear

Positive hate #right/wrong

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I hate you ! 
But only for the good reasons, so 
                                                              It’s positive, right? 

Remember when your leaves casted a shade 
Over my growth, took the drops of sunlight
And stunted me amongst the undergrowth? 
You kept the air for yourself, and took the water 
On the shelf, and used it to seize our light. 

Well we’ve got a fix here: 
                                                We’re both plants, right? 
Your greed is killing our breed! You’ll stop. 

Then we’ll need to ensure that we’re all even. 
So, till I reach your height
                                            You must stop growing. 
I’ll take your light, the water off the shelf, 
Stunt you till you’re undergrowth with every drop of sunlight. 
                                                               But it’s all positive right?

(c) nyonglema

Others

Thank you

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A special thanks to all of you who ever came to my page to share my thoughts.
Your comments, likes, or just mere peek into my world makes it live.

To you who have subscribed to my posts, a very special thank you. What would waghni be without you? You are the stars that push my vessel to keep writing;

Let’s explore this world together, the best is still in the future…

Kind regards,
nyonglema

fear

Shooting your foot #Cameroon

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I told him exactly the same as I’m telling you now:

The gun you point at your people is a gun you point
At your pupil, or at your pupils, or through a peephole
Into a future with LED lights lining trees capturing
Sunlight, and lightning, a future enlightened
By the lightness of the smiles of generations to come
A peephole looking back at the nozzle of a barrel.

I knew he wouldn’t listen, for without the ash splattered
Against my mane wisdom cannot be part of my game.
All their epithelia are the same, waiting for epitaphs
Epilogue to tales where epic lies dominate photographs
Of instants of truth, painful truth….like the peephole
And the barrel, and they’ve seen it all, the seed to the tree
The stream to the river, the whole range of our history

I knew he wouldn’t listen, nor read, nor taste of my sweat,
But maybe my blood, so I painted myself like the others
Vehement in thoughts dancing entrapped in cages of fear
Where the lines on the 60 leaves plane-leaved exercise book
Jump off the page where you jotted your deepest hopes for
Change, change into pain, twist your arms and pull your fingers
Around them. They turn into metal, and you’re looking out,
Wishing for a desk, a pen, but not even a toilet for your rear’s near.

But I know He will listen. He doesn’t read these words
He feels them. He sees my prayer that we’d stop crowding Peter’s
Waiting room: the logistics department had to order new magazines,
About cars, about medicine about emptying magazines on citizens,
To accommodate the throng waiting for their lift to the final
Destination: Heaven or Hell. The water dispenser needs refilling,
This place wasn’t designed for such affluence…well there was Noah,
Or better still his time, but there was enough notice for facilities
To be put in place. Not this time…but I know He listens.

So, they told him exactly as I tell you now:

When words can save the souls of many,
Lay Guns to rest by Pride’s old body
And dare to save another’s soul today
For face to face mountains all decay.

(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

joy

Life #smile

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You don’t know when it starts nor ends
But you must live it in twists and bends.
No manual robotises your daily experience
And no theory can predict weakness or resilience.
The people you meet cannot immediately tell whence
Your smiles or tears come, nor can you theirs.
It’s just life,complex yet simple, loving yet painful,
Misunderstood yet so simple, from dirt to dining tables
And you must live it, good or bad, fun or scare,
And smile all the way, catching the wind in your hair.

(c) nyonglema

anger

399.99 #Libya #neoSlavery

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In November more than 230 years ago a letter changed the course of history.
Lady Middleton inked hope in the heart of a British speck,
And no matter how small it saw itself, and made protest
The cause was so big that the Hope she sowed seemed 300 against Persian military.
Lil’ Bill set out to change the world before his eyes
That man wished to make men see in other men their brothers,
Like hounds view spaniels, or poodles, or chihuahuas,
And to think we’re supposed to be the smarter of the creatures.
Well, William Wilberforce, along with many intelligent beings
Set out to explain to humanity what animals already knew.

Today I feel sorry for him
That the lessons he fought for flew to forgetfulness.
I feel sorry, that it actually got worse.
I feel sorry that…I used to think I was worth “Priceless”.
That’s what dad and mum told me, we can’t buy you:
Protect your eyes, they have no price.
Protect your hands, protect yourself, you have no price.
USD 400, EUR 400, GBP 350, YUAN 3 125, XAF 260 k.

Print me a tag, stick me in a Home Depot store as an accessory
I’m more economical than a Roomba.
Pass it through my earlobe,who needs a jackhammer to build
When you can get me, and for cheap?
Stick it on my forehead, and put me in a sex shop,
I’m cheaper than all you can buy.

Thank you Wilberforce, you tried to make puppies in a pound less important than humankind in the hearts of humans unkind.
But those wear Prada, while HUUUUUUUMMMMAAANs starve to death, while humans are traded when they hit rock bottom, while water takes human life.

Well I just wanted to say that I’m for sale too, like my brothers and sisters who lost hope and sought hope in a lion’s den.
Well they say if you see an antelope running towards a lion pride, then wherever it was before must have had a Terminator – Alien – Predator hybrid…or worse.

So before I’m sold, this speck says to African “leaders”…:
Thank you <insert insult here>, You’re just doing what your predecessors did. Reducing our citizens to slavery through your silly greed. You’re the AIDS of our continent from which all kinds of ills take away our future…
You’re …mostly pathetic.

Ok, please buy me now, Paypal, Visa or just cash…399.99, please.

(c) nyonglema

Tears, tears, all I have to pour on where we have come due to the greed of the world powers, and the active participation by African leaders in making a bad situation even worse…God help us

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

Words from today to stir a new tomorrow from yesterday

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