Categories
sadness

The Well

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

Categories
sadness

Tomatoes in the Wagons #stopWar

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

Categories
anger

Another type of love #politics

They said they loved us.
They said what had hovelled us this long
Would melt in the ideas they’d put to physical form, fixing the forms, printing new laws to make more feasible new morns where dreams grow, where the beams of oppression become beaming faces facing greatness in all facets of a society phasing out the old, and phrasing in the new, and enacting, and without feigning bringing hope and growth anew.

They said we’d love it.
They said the picture would be bling
To the point of our dreams’ Everests, that they’ll brave the storms of whether to go with the hot or the cold, with the dry or with mould, or the new or the old, or whatever internal or from other holds could chip at our wishes, that they’d protect us, shield us in a new shell more robust than the previous, and keep our homes, culture, and aspirations safe anew.

They said they loved us.
The said we’d love it,
And this they said in words we’d listen to and miss the meaning shrouded like a zombie’s soul within idioms and colourful slogans painting derelict walls of our city gloom, and filling the air of family time with promises of Utopia today, Utopia tomorrow after Hell yesterday, and trickling out as if not premeditated and making us believe in Canterbury tales anew.

But now they hate us,
And hey! We don’t love it,
This stagnation like mosquito larvae infested ponds leaking putrefaction to our already putrefied systems, with corruption and stealing…no… embezzling being the order of the day, and deleting competition or young petitions to fix the predicament with silent words halted by violent wars. This stagnation so old we’ve lived that it even starts to feel like new.

Oh how they hate us
And hate that we don’t love it,
For to lord it over us longer they need us to be coy, kowtow, and shut up like Guantanamo torture secrets or that moment in a gory movie you are caught up between darkness and the bloodied blade and to speak your mind would Soweto you and your family in one instant, and depending on the riches you had, it will be featured, or not, on the news.

Oh how they hate us,
And how we wish we could change this
Situation with feeble will to exchange our lives with joy in the future generations as others before bothered to, feeble strength we are deluded to have whereas Gandhi taught us all by shooting up the opposition with words and Christ-like pain affliction and acceptance.
(c) Nyonglema

Categories
anger

Pied pipers #fakePastors

Tu-du lalilila lilila tudu la
Walk with me you who are broken-hearted,
When your soul knows but cold and loss,
And joy is the “j” word from childhood departed;
Walk with me , walk for all goals thwarted.

Hold my hand as we roll down the hill.
Solutions, solace, sold to you this instant.
Slowly? No! Speed must come at this cost
And miracles sweeping, seeking all those who want
Will pour out from Heaven till all clouds are bland

Tu-du lalilila lilila tudu la
Follow me gullible bank notes and more
Oh no my dear, coins will puncture the basket
But bills mean successful con errr -version
So walk with me greedy whose hearts are sore
For blessings for cash we’re sharing galore.

(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