Tag Archives: Child

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

Your breath #refugee #humanCrisis

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Thanks to @CrisisHuman for pointing out that “refugee” is just a bad way to disguise human beings displaced from their homes due to other human beings. We live at a time where more and more humans are losing everybody and everything, and have only the choice to leave to live. To all humans losing all, never lose hope….and to all of us, when will our greed stop?

 

All I wish is to feel your breath in the morning.

The morning bombs thundered our bonds
In shards of glass, piles of dirt and torn mounds
Of once friends, while we planned quickly to abscond
To anywhere Death wasn’t the only sound in the towns.

The blood-soaked dew stained our silent feet
Wading through the floating rattle from shots
Breaking the harmony of our adrenaline chorus of heartbeats
As we walked to the unknown only fearing to be caught.

The camp’s sunrise with promise showed over the horizon
And we got welcomed to our new life with silence
And hurting souls bundled in teary memories and sad songs
But respite too, and hope, nostalgia, food and tents

But all I wish is to feel your breath in the morning.

To wake and look at your eyes bouncing about in a dream
Of our new home, smiling that we made it out of mayhem
To peace. To see your chest heave, to watch the sweat beams
Glide along the tracks of mosquito bites on your bare skin

To feel the warmth you exude as if 35° Celsius
Wasn’t enough, while your hair moves in rhythm
With your sleepy breath, then you turn, oblivious
To all the homeless with us from various schisms.

And breathe heavily as if a sigh of deserved relief,
With the smile of our would-have-been 5 daughter,
Sleeping my pain away in this instant so brief
But healing wounds which would beat our dead doctor

To feel your breath every morning, my only wish
To feel alive again, after my numerous deaths.

Yes, just to feel your breath in the morning
To know I haven’t lost you too this morning.

(c) Nyonglema

anger

Sleep Wars #bedtime #tantrums #kids

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It’s 8pm again, and by my clock it’s time to shut eyes and dream loud

But, by the clock of who run this place, it’s not that time yet…no not yet

The butterflies have called a meeting with snails in a crowd

While the legos still have to drive up the air to the mountains

And the ideas keep flowing out their youthful fountains


And then everything is a reason to complain in shrill air waves

And contort when grasped, then toss the toys to care’s arms

And while we count on Reason to make them behave

We are at war with forces beyond our deepest understanding

Kids who feel it’s not time yet to go to the land of dreaming


(c) Nyonglema

sadness

The Mirage #beYourself #loveYourself

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“Hey, check out our timeline on any social outlet: Facebook or Twitter
Or other for that matter! We’re the quintessence of happiness gone wild
The butterfly brings envy in gusts of wind to the creatures lesser,
So ride our boat, fearful one, err into Nirvana; you’re so mild”


“Mine’s an open marriage were she and me do what we do together
And unlike heartbreaks shrouded in secrecy and lies, we share our weather:
That stranger, that partner, we swing on this boat as recommended by others
And loving the spice it brings to the complete couple we would rather.”


“Mine’s unfettered liberty in the absence of a bellowing baritone beard
As I raise my throng of 2 strong victory over every each of them
No arguments on choice of clothes, religion….hell I’m the one with the beard!
Men are so overrated, I’m tending the aftermath of dumb male dum dums.”


“Mine’s this elixir from ages old, bringing joy, relief from daily throes
In puffs and Os, in teams, alone, pain’s an old lady’s tale we’re not told.
Calm comes when the paper castle’s joints turn to paper prose
And I beam so bright with ma bro’s  thousand rays of sun-like gold.”


OK….


Thy words I’ve heard, and peered I have into the gears which drive thy thread
And ere I chide, my dear, art thou perchance alive, or art nigh dead?
That pain’s thy wish, and care amiss
I barely knead within my wits
To pair thine love with lusty peers: a nightingale in eagle’s bed.


Thy words I’ve heard, and peered I have into the gears which drive thy dread
And knaves in men those sores will rend within thy self the source of red
But tears within bring tears without,
And mend it will if will’st it thou
To each sore kid a fairy’s life through love not lust thou would have made.


Thy words I’ve heard, and peered I have into the gears which drive thy thoughts
To think that aught replace the here and now are thoughts of kindly tots
To hide thy face in highs insane
Than face the day and fight the bane
Sure will  bid the pain away, but hide it will to grow its knots


SO…


That high you live, is but that…a high you live, living on the bleeding edge,
Chasing Mavericks, chasing the wind, not seeking meaning in the confusion we live
But laying excuses why you wouldn’t put up with the “ordinary” boring ledge
Till you’re clutching breath lest it leave…lest this be the last instant time gives.


But worse! that high you preach to pull others to warm you in your loneliness
Where pain seeks company, and it’s enterprise is cities of high rises
Where the exit hides, and plays tag, and you’re not allowed to seek its ugliness
But live it, be sick with it, is like to brag about your brand new arthritis!


A world where care for peers has turned to care for self and money,
And where wisdom is Nicki’s hair fixing with Swift and fuming at Miley.
Ephemera ephemera, Rome’s back to give us ephemera
And the final blow shall be dealt brutally, then fall all works of Caesars.


So while “Be Yourself” bellows loud at a throng in uniform delusional
I tear up to see “Freedom” start wars, lose souls, shoot holes
Into hope, all in the name of Freedom! Freedom to be like what’s typical
Freedom to conform to the modern mould or be cast out whole.


I shall not fold.


(c) Nyonglema
 

joy

After meals #kidsEnergy #Energiser

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When energy has been injected into the atom,
The electrons start jumping from level to level.
In the case of kids, that’s table to table,
And round the whole space, making mum
Wail inside with the noise, while dad cringes
Each time they miss a dangerous fall by inches.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

The Chosen Mother #Mary #Christmas

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Oh Bethlehem of glorious fate,
You through love became so great,
For within your walls on stable bare
Mary lay her Babe in yester year.

The gusty winds of winter tide
She warded off as best she might:
With shards of cloth she swathed the Boy
Who brought Salvation to lack of joy.

In dark dull fields the light was lit
As shepherds, sheep got on their feet
To sing along to heavenly praise
And rush to see the King of Grace.

In foreign land some saw the star,
And left their own to travel far,
With gifts to honour and wisdom too,
They knelt and prayed the King of Truth.

And Mary watched her first born sleep
With Love, the wise, shepherds and sheep.
She got the mystery the angel voiced:
“Most glorious blessed, my Master’s choice.”

(c) Nyonglema

joy

The Desert I Sought

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One step on the white blistering sand,
Sandals in hand, turban shrouding my beard
From the gusts of arid wind sucking my sweat
And burning my skin and mucosa.

I looked ahead, raising my hand
To block the sun and see the herd
Of camels ahead, and beyond the dunes,
The promise of death from thirst and hunger.

I saw the cactus hold firm to the sand,
And scavengers in the form of an innocent bird
Swimming overhead as if to admire their work:
Meatless bones basking lifeless in the sun.

Was that my fate? Lifeless in the sand
Going through the process to be bird turd
As they pecked and relished? So it seemed.
I pulled myself on, and my body protested.

Is this why this route was so bland?
That civilisation despite its million nerds
Had not found a way to profane the dunes
And  enforce its will on Nature’s plans?

But I keep on with the target at hand.
Oh…I forgot to give you the Word!
Great promise lies ahead, beyond the pain,
Beyond the thirst, beyond lurking death.

Behind me lies a devastated land,
The old me: wicked an absurd.
Beyond the pain lies Life, and just like a newborn,
I shall bear the suffering that takes me Home.

(c) Nyonglema

sadness

When I’m Gone #Despair #Pain #Hurt #DarkPlace…I once was there, thank God I came out

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I’ve seen mirages, images of bright joy,
But they were just images, like child toys.
I found blessing, but little did my eyes see,
And I found a curse within and my heart bleeds.

All I sought was smiles on my face and theirs.
Laughs from peers and a happy tomorrow, my prayer;
Leading the right way, and stopping all from straying,
But I’m not he! No not he! I’m lost in life’s string.

As my last breath bathes my philtrum, leads to my coffin,
I think: “Had I but made my soul a better home,
So it could run in glee like a school of dolphins
And yield aught! My existence can now be labelled ‘Nought’.”

What singular body of the spheres is missed at night,
As the orchestra plays starlight beyond the moon in its might?
Substitution for failed parts, that’s all I crave,
And comfort on all who’ll stoop at my grave.

Colourful dreams, thoughts and hopes I knew since!
But new pain digs deep and I’m a fish without fins;
The current is strong and I can’t swim home,
The current events prove I’ll soon be lost in the foam.

Not so it is (I believe) to hurt the mettle.
But my frail meddled interior weeps to settle
He hurt us, and now she hurts me worse!
Is being trampled upon and abused part of the curse?

You my Maker who masters the clay and blows the Breath
Grant to all daily bread beneath Heaven’s hearth,
But to the lifeless only eternal rest;
When I’m gone may joy reign at last, for gone is the worst.

(c) Nyonglema

…..sometimes writing down the hurt can help you get out of it…this is where I was at that time.