History, unloaded

And they gouged its eyes, and ripped out its ears
That no future generations could hear of all the pain
Caused by pseudo-science or thoughts born in fears.

When you think you know what you do not know,
And leap off the ledge into the burning desert snow
You don’t realise how terrible is your crazy show.

But your kids will, and they’ll start screaming
How silly it was not to consider the heat, and that’s
Where we are today, we know more about being

Human. We know that skin colour is just a DNA
Variation, that language varies like wind directions
And that cigarettes will mess up your later days.

But we don’t know if skin colour will stop causing pain
Nor if language modifies the way we live or think
Nor that weed will mess up your later brain.

But I do know that by wiping the mistakes, hiding
Cracks in our foundation, we’re building a shaky future
Where the politically correct act or denying

History was nasty, by renaming, breaking, burning
What once was celebrated for valour, just to fit our mould
Creates ignorant youth who’ll start the same wheels turning.

(c) nyonglema

Genocide is just a word

Happy celebration Cameroon

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

Positive hate #right/wrong

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

Wake Up #Africa #newEden

Don’t you just hate the incessant annoyance buzzing out of a cellphone?
Your eyes are shut, and dreams are in you, swaying and cuddling you
And there’s this syncopated harmony floating about like US drones,
Like you’re going to get hit. Like you shouldn’t be sleeping, but you,
You love it here. The real world’s harsh with things to fear, fears to bear
Bears in the office, officials plundering taxes, taxes to be paid,
Payments you are owed, Owen missing goals, Goals not getting nearer….
Near this cosy cushion of dreams, the cursed music is played
By transistors you’d bash but for the fact that you’ll have to pay
For the pain of being able to make a call again….
But that’s not what I’m talking about today. No way.
Who are you going to blame when it’s time to feel the pain?
 
Africa! AFRICA! Hey! AFRICA! It’s 6 a.m. and it’s pouring.
You’re stuck in a past of pain, perjury and mourning, looking further back
To dream of glory, gumption in days when you built stone storeys.
Those stories are history…..hello! ….Wake Up!!!  Get out the sack
 
Generations boated in hordes, hoarded to shores where all fell apart
To generations hoarded on their own shores, robbed, tortured, more
To generations seeking for sure, for their brains have lost their heart,
And disconnected from self they float in hordes tormented and more,
 
Are your pedigree. Shall you stop to stare at the tripping stone there?
Shall you mourn the morning that brought mourning till it disappears
To some sugar candy mountain in purple pill colours, and hear
Psychedelic mushrooms hum soothing tunes into your crying ears?
 
Africa??? Who are you blaming now, while the shutters blind your view?
They enslaved you? You’d been doing it for ages and taught them too,
And caught and chose the ones to be sent off in balls and chains in twos
And forced them in exchange for glitter, clothes, status and booze.
 
They signed shady deals? Well not amongst themselves they didn’t!
Not like some shady deal CIA-hidden between Obama and Biden,
Or Paul and Phil. You were represented by the mice with hidden
Agenda at the cheese distribution party. So …..nope they didn’t.
 
Rather than mourn, and seek root in tradition tradition…tradition.
What’s tradition? And who said it was frozen in some distant time
Before others changed your clime? Your ancestor’s oral diction
Was altered, and clothing, and building and art and even clime
 
As you migrated from oasis to oasis, fleeing from wars and drought!
Tradition? That’s a 60s newspaper bashing Facebook for breaching
Tradition. Culture. I’m more for principles, which is deeper, without
Which our bearings are stuck in heavy rotation North East West South.
 
Rather than mourn, and seek root in tradition, reinvent your minds
Adapt, grow. Change is opportunity, and exclusion kills opportunity.
Reverse racism is two wrongs to a right, and no matter what fines
You would levy, exclusion is your energy spent to fix past iniquity,
 
But shouldn’t we be seizing that opportunity? Driving paradigm
Change in little and big ways, and saying to the plants in the garden:
It was tough, but soak it all up, learn from all and then you can design
A new way to live. Then call it culture, call it tradition. Call it Eden

 

(c) Nyonglema