So now Trump lost, and Facebook, Twitter, Alphabet, Hollywood and the MSM won... Hold back your tears, Marcus Antonius, as the toga With holes which is prop to your words. Lost for words, the crowds try to catch your every word. Their ears try to synthesize hope from them, The man on the pedestal will no more give them such hope And hopefully he taught them how to fish. No more will their voices be heard, even As the gramophone goes silent. For four years they heard their echo with solutions And saw these take form according to their wish. The storm within seeks an outlet to simmer down, But Caesar wasn't enough for the conspirators. They want more blood, as a cat taunting its catch, The murderer stabbing the lifeless victim Forgetting that anger leads always to great evil Especially when egged on by a victor's muzzle. Hold back your tears, Marcus Antonius, and keep peace, In spite of Newton's third law, hold back, keep peace. (c) nyonglema
Tag Archives: loss
Your breath #refugee #humanCrisis
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
One Certainty #cradle2theGrave #Death #mementoMori
I watch them wriggling their brand new toes,
Swinging soft arms at some unknown foes;
I watch their little chests heave with life
And ponder on mine: its gains its strife.
The trees have gone from seed to giants
In front of the home where I bugged my parents
For care: baby, infant, toddler on a mission
To understand this world and beyond the horizon.
My head from curled wrapped nappy hair
Has gone through jungle thick to little hair
And the black in the surviving tuft
Starts to thin, leaving a grey so roughed.
This much I realise from the innocent foetus
To the wriggling fellows, to adults roaming cities,
Not prosperity, nor love, nor pain, nor parents can be sure,
But one things is: that one day you’ll be no more.
(c) Nyonglema
waghni 