Categories
anger sadness

Cuties

Fear of facts, fear of truth, fear of standing out.
Fear of fraternal correction, fear of the hypocritical mob: 

"Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear." - Alan Paton


I'm a teacher where the future flows from 
The ground. I water in the shadow of the clouds, 
As the sun fails at peeping at me, smiling proud. 

These tender blades look like mini green swords
Although the arid air wishes to suck out the breath
That fills their stomata, replacing it with death. 

Cool air rushes round my feet, as I side-step
My precious lawn. Nature and I collaborate 
To heal the future, and watch it elaborate. 

But the clouds suddenly shift and the peeping sun, 
Like a Netflix nightmare, smiling at innocence, 
Paints them brown forever in masked silent violence

(c) nyonglema
Categories
love

Cancel Culture

How does a mustard seed appear before us? 
Not as a tree, with leaves tickling falling 
Sun rays into laughter in greens and yellows, 
And rainbows in beautiful forest lushness. 

A man once invited his friends to cannibalize
Their way to heaven; offering himself to them, 
And their stomachs popped out their eyes
And spun them round to perceived sanity, 
And muttering they walked away from their belief, 
Now too gory to hold, leaving without any grief. 

Sensing danger, he tapped the hands of the tag team, 
Where temptation was strong, and the flesh 
Was being torn for fear of tearing at its seams
On the way to the renovation store up the hill. 
Oh how sound they slept and ignored his behest, 
And slept and slept like all this was just a test. 

As time stood still to catch his final breath 
Of pardon, as Word became Word, and flesh stayed
To feel the Earth shudder at this one death, 
Darkening, rending, only three teared, dismayed.
From 12 and more, just 3 saw the spear hit mercy 
Between the ribs. Only 3 dared to show their faces. 

As the body formed after a miracle three days later, 
And those who feared came back to said body, 
Renewing their faith, his uncle had to make encounter
With truth while walking away from perceived insanity:
As muttering, he and partner walked in disbelief
At this so-crazy-to-behold story told to hide grief. 

How does a mustard seed appear before us? 
As a mustard seed. 
It feels the tree eager to burgeon, 
And comparing itself to what it must show, 
It knows the truth, and as the world lies 
With counter-examples and stories of revenge, 
It holds the truth. It doesn't call for the help
Of other seeds. It knows who made it and where 
Allegiance, hope and growth lie. 

How does a mustard seed appear before us? 
One seed at a time, for it's not how many, 
But if any would stand for God, for Truth
Even as the hill promises you Gehenna.

(c) nyonglema

Categories
fear

New Classes (by Balla 9yr old)

Whenever I go to a new class, 
At the door I feel a chill on my back
I get so scared
I just stare
But it's okay
to be afraid.
Everyone is nervous sometimes
But they become brave sometimes.

(c) balla
Categories
anger

Vivre en semble #pretendUnity

Le moustique chante dans ces oreilles pourtant pas endormies,
Qui guettent les pas des ravisseurs qui tour à tour font
La garde. Le silence est tel qu'on peut entendre les fourmis

"…ma reconnaissance au peuple camerounais de m’avoir renouvelé sa confiance…"
Erigés sont les poils des bras à découvert dans ce froid macabre,
La peur a laissé place aux sanglots qui se sont effacés par l'indifférence

Face à ces murs en terre battue … ah ce mot "battu" "battre", "abattre"
"… en prenant des mesures nécessaires pour préserver l’ordre public…"
Battues et coupées du monde, les larmes salées semblent laver le tartre

Comme un plâtre qui se brise laissant la fracture à découvert. Ils saignent.
« … Porte atteinte à notre Constitution… » « … d’être mieux
Associées à la gestion de leurs affaires … » Les lueurs d’espoirs s’éteignent

Avec l’arrivée du soleil. L’odeur d’Hadès parfume la rosée sur les jeunes fusils
« … nous avons maintenu notre cap vers l’émergence. » Il n’est pas 2035.
On se gratte la peau, on nettoie les cils. On boit de l’eau infestée de typhii.

Avec l’arrivée du soleil, l’odeur d’Hadès parfume la rosée sur leur règne
« … continuer dans la paix l’œuvre de construction » La guerre ajuste son masque
Ils se grattent la peau, et ils boivent du Lestac, dehors sous des corps la terre saigne.

(c) nyonglema
Categories
sadness

Believe

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

Categories
joy

Fear #nothing

The roaches are tangoing with the spiders, near a tavern full of bats, humming the melodies snakes taught them. It’s dark, and ghosts look on at vampires going from bat to ghastly human…and they are all conspiring to do one thing: GET YOU!

Did I just describe what your fear looks like?
When your heartbeat sits on the top pike
And your breath loses control on the broken dyke?

Breathe, breathe. You break into sweat clinging at your sheets in the dark.
It’s just a nightmare: soon the sun’s light will bathe the singing of the lark.

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
love

THE UNION #supportWidows #supportWidowers

From far away past where silent orbs

Danced to rhythms of unknown forces forging

Newer niches in cloud then soil then rock,

Smouldering, sizzling silently as time tic toc

Ebbed away, watching life on some lifeless rock surging,

To this day when we dance to the rhythm of Forbes,

The moon and sun in divine love urging

Have danced about the earth: light source upon a rock,

Bringing life to earth when the sullen clock

Calls out the grim owl, vile wolf, and sturdy sturgeon

Through the silent night nobody else disturbs,

Locked in eternal enthralment, watching the dark dungeon

Earth would be but for the sun- or moonlight it absorbs.

Moonlight from sunlight like new groom and virgin

Locked in an embrace older than Eden’s first baulk,

But sealed forever to work on this blue rock;

Bringing light to life on earth at dawn then dusk, merging

Efforts: sun casts its beams on daytime suburbs

But when the earth turns as if to shun its scourging,

That age old mission bound to fail as dusk struck

Finds new life in the passive glitter on that battered rock,

The partner playing its part, for so it was from the first forging.

From far away past, as far back as the silent space orbs,

The sun and moon in sublime love urging.

Have danced about and cast shadows out of this rock

And so it should be, for when one’s gone and you lose the rock

Foundation of the union, then is there but darkness and dirge in

The picture, and the survivor is just a lifeless rock listening for hope in the orbs.

(c)Nyonglema

Categories
fear

Evil Begets Evil #theChainofEvil #theChainofGood

“Evil begets Evil”

I read upon the derelict arch,

Engraved in the stone: a warning to all

Who to these ruins would march.

“Evil begets Evil”

 

“Evil begets Evil”

Even the welcome mat

Reeks of waste, not welcoming at all.

Just cracks with invading moss matte

The Evil regrets of Evil

 

Evil besets Good

When a family neSt/bed

Through greed and hate after inheritance

Deep to murder instincts is infested

Evil arrests Good.

 

“Good begets Good”

The cracked frame read

Lying in the rubble like a forgotten fossil

Covered with dust and shoe tread

“Good be-” *crack* “gets” *crack* “Good”

The words nobody heeded

Till Evil bore only more Evil.

 

(c) Nyonglema

Categories
sadness

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

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.