You light the way that leads to my life,
Love on the cross shines down on my strife,
Saviour, my Lord, save me today,
Show me the way, Lord take my hand
I saw the stars the dark ones oh Lord,
And lost my sight, and followed the hoard,
Deep in I went, yes sought out the void,
‘Twas so devoid of Love in this land
Draw me nearer, Master nearer,
Draw a way to save what’s left today
Draw me nearer, Master hear us,
Listen and save your children as humble we pray.
(c) Nyonglema
Peel the onion baby, peel the onion; work through the layers and see what is hidden within the canyon. On the skin it seems calm, cool collected, but within it’s probably saying a prayer, or two, too insecure and missing you.
Peel the onion, baby, although it may bring you tears. I remember the childhood kitchen where we diced onions and tomatoes, while mum told us orders we barely heeded, and got sent out because we were making a mess rather than what was our mission. I remember the tears swinging against my lids, and gliding down my jaws as if to mourn the bulbs being put out. Well the fears and pain beneath each peel of skin is real, and as you peel back the reels, reflect on each for just a second, and you acknowledging them will be a boon to heal what’s been hidden away safely beneath.
Peel the onion, baby, and see how much love there is to share, and how I hold back for fear that it be too much to bear. Because,you see, in those years while we’d peel and dice, our mouths went foul as we’d steal to taste, and our eyes would sting as we’d hack in haste, and I’ll hate to put you through that sad fate. We were just making a mess, but I bet you’re not part of our set. I’ve seen your skill when you dice the veggies, and I wish for your dexterity, but I never learned it. I was too busy on the computer while my brothers went with it, followed mum’s instructions. Maybe, I’d have learned to peel them back myself and let it show, that there’s nowhere I’d go but where you are, and how empty it is when you’re far away from here.
Peel the onion, baby, peel away and teach me the way. Peel and see the words I don’t speak, which hide there, and the thoughts that hang thick and swing and sway my heart to think and wish to say, but scare then stare at you and only mutter just a summary of what I feel: “I love you”, meaning “You’re all I need to live through this”, “Let’s be together through thick and thin, till the music quits”, “Let’s console and hold each other”, “With you is only bright weather”, “I’ve been hurt really really badly before, but this time feels right”, “I trust you my love…”, …
Peel the onion, baby, peel away for I was too busy on the computer to learn the right way to show and say; if I had I’d peel this myself and let it fill your days, and walk your roads and brighten the clouds which would dare to spill your way. Peel the onion baby, that’s unfortunately all I can say.
(c) Nyonglema
The wind gusts kissed the rain drops when we met in that MRS station :
Two souls seeking shelter but finding fetter for love in total elation.
Loving each instant of evening trips, the knighting pose to propose,
The stressful preparation together, and the white fairy wings we chose
To carry me to the next level of our bond, you in black, me in white
Sealing this bond, this bond, this bond, with one golden knot so tight
You said you’d be the third set of footsteps in the sand of my homeward journey,
Lifting me to the Lord’s arms, chaining your sad days to my listening gurney
Walking me to the Lord’s arms on that day we all must give back our depth
And lie together lifeless dust on lifeless dust playing the game of death.
Together in life we raced the shopping bustle, beat the crowded morning hustle
So should release every muscle at the same time to make simultaneous fossils
The wind gusts are kissing rain drops in another bland dying MRS station
And one soul seeks shelter or fetter but finds neither in total desperation
Hating each instant evening weeps, pics jocose now a dead wilted rose
The stressful separation, bad weather and the dark dreary things that I chose
To put in the box to carry you to the next level of God’s bond of light,
Killing this bond, this bond, this bond with one last breath … then night.
You said, you swore in breaths of love and swore and said some more
That you’ll be there, that this heart will never be bare, that sad yore’s lore
Of Capulet’s daughter’s end was never coming near this bond this bond this bond
And wound up leaving me standing alone, rended, shattered, worthless mound,
Lost, battered with tears digging ditches on these cheeks missing your every kiss,
Pale, scarred, marred, a fossil of some other time that knew something of bliss.
The wind gusts are fighting the rain drops in another dead MRS station
And I’m standing tethered to the past, seeking instant solution or re-creation.
This man’s one of God’s keeps, and sure has a solution to brighten my prose
For I’ve seen his promise take form in the sight of a blind man at his shows.
Oh! To find the third steps and make this burden of loss once again light
I’ll trust these words which God’s given this human creature of might.
-Then later… –
The wind gusts are gone, no rain drops in the dusty lonely MRS station
And I’m lying down praying my last, abandoned and in want of some medication.
That man standing’s not God’s tweet! Yes I paid in cash for all my throes,
But never got sight, never walked, just paid more and more to feed my woes
Oh come long lost love, lead the way to the tunnel bright with God’s light
To rebuild this bond this bond this bond in one golden knot more tight.
(c) Nyonglema
Alive we wove our wands
of magic, Living love to bits with intensity only
A few have come close to. We loved the unicorns in fairy tales created by
our fantasy in its full intensity: love in the imagination of two loving souls seeking
each other, lost in each other. The fairies lived their lives, fluttering around our teen
bellies promising nirvana, like butterflies in my stomach and head, alcohol in each
part of my soul, keeping me in permanent euphoria at the sight, touch smell, hurt
of you, in the morning, evening, night. But Newton’s promise is such a
crime as the floating fays all fell sullenly one by one, and
blaming age to the decay that befell each suddenly.
The end of our Utopia lingered in the air to
push each winged dream out of that our
space, onto the mud whirling around
as earth throttled full ahead
without care. Till my mind
was made up: “Go! Go!”
To flee to flee to
leave and never
come back.And
My heart
bled
As you
Didn’t
Care
Didn’t bother
To save me
Your fairy.
Dying alone
dying.
Dead
by
your
hand.
(c) Nyonglema
“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
AT last AT last!
I’m so happy for you. I know for sure that you’ve fought your internal battles and are ready for the journey of love.
Love is a choice, a decision which you have thought through and are making on that beautiful day. The next 100years of your happy lives depends on both of you (and the kids on the way 🙂 ). Make the best of them. Communicate communicate communicate. Talk to each other at least thrice a day…talk about everything, your fears, joys, pain, temptations. Share your projects, plans, hopes, dreams. Be each other’s mentor for growth personally, and professionally. Be great in bed, and advise each other on how to make the experience more pleasant for each other. Live the beautiful adventure of life together. Eliminate unnecessary distractions and noise that could steal the precious moments in each other’s arms.
Love love love is the key.
The future indeed begins now, and no matter what the world tells you, you shall be happy if you believe, and work hard at your couple, together. Don’t procrastinate the hard talks, don’t let anger let you say horrible things to each other. Always try to have a calm conversation, get angry but not for too long. Stay honest on your feelings to each other. Know we men are more introverted, and get us to tell you we love you, because some of us forget. Plan events together, get the man on board the projects, and get on his projects. It’s the 21st century, but men still need to feel in control of the home…give him that without becoming a slave.
Love love love is the key.
What more can I wish you but pure unrefined concentrated saturated happiness….so much of it that it overflows from your heart onto your kids and family and friends. Girls night out? Gone…replaced with cosy evenings with your heartthrob. You’ll have to relinquish some of your past, to enjoy the present. The chick must leave the comfort and security of the egg, to experience this world if he must become a brave singing cock. On the that day your life really begins, my daughter!
Love love love your husband and let him love love love you. Doesn’t matter who loves more, as long as both hearts are on the same boat to the same destination of happiness‼
God will show you the way…just a little faith will do…just a little!
Congratulations on such a great step. Blessings on the journey.
(c) Nyonglema
“Leave me! You’re good for nothing!”
Hitherto have I heard nothing so numbing!
Whither would she tell me such a thing?
Weathers change, I’m still thinking
About that long gone valentine.
Weathers change, birds chirp and fade,
Velds grow and grey in life’s hasty wade.
I miss her, let’s call a spade a spade.
Since my silver lining got ripped off, I’m scared.
Gone gone are those pleasant songs of Valentine.
“Kiss me! You are really something!”
Why would such sweet surges be lost in
A single line: “You’re good for nothing!”
But why mourn, more fun’s coming …
But for now, I’ll be forlorn, oh gone gone Valentine.
(c) Nyonglema
After midnight, a tear dribbles down my jaw,
My heart is torn; the darkness is rushing in,
I have been waiting forlorn for the sun at my door,
To see Idyllia glaze when I gaze at my opened door.
But the night is still dreary
As I miss her charm
And I’m still weary
Like a workaholic farmer.
Reminescing of when it was still daylight,
More tears drooling from their seat tattoo my cheek;
No! We had never thought even of twilight,
And through each day, cloud-like glided with no foresight.
Like a barren prairie
I optimistically hope;
The dark is scary,
But my consolation is a dumb praying Pope.
The wall clock sings three and I acquaint despair,
For I realise the truth is yelling out.
I dry my tears, she won’t come, the truth stabs my Coeur.
But my wish for light is forever, past when I lose my hair.
Hope she’ll come back even as I occupy my hearse.
Farewell fair fairy,
My silken girl of Utopia,
My nights will always be dreary,
And great will my fear be,
But I shall be fine, Idyllia.
(c) Nyonglema
I know those sharp nails gushing down the stairs for my heart
As if from a loud speaker at the hospital emergencies;
That peculiar pitch which laughs my day’s stress into shards
Turned into painful shrieks I hear, shrieks laden with insidious neurosis.
She must be alone. No: lonely in the grip of a crowd of white coats
Seeking the via for the intravenous treatment of her bacteriosis.
The nails sink deeper with each step towards the coats
Loathing to see the sounds bringing back all Nollywood horror stories
To my mind. My daughter’s writhing in pain
And I, helpless, can but acerbate her confusion
With a forehead kiss, while she thought I was boon to the bane;
My cooperation with the nurses is surely not her idea of gumption.
The confused stream pouring down her salty-with-wailing cheeks
Fuels pain within my hardened-with-reality-but-fragile soul,
For to be there but unable to put an end to her shrieks
Makes my spirit bend to the point I feel I’m losing my all.
(c) Nyonglema
Hush! I hear the most beautiful music
From Earth, but akin to Heavenly praise
And wish this instant would last umpteen days
To cradle me in the notes nurtured by these muses.
The violin flows like velvet before my eyes
In gentle steps and dainty body wind;
Such motions as wrapt David’s mind
When moonlight lit a fire in his lustful iris.
The piano says such sweetness softly
In strong but measured wisdom bundles
To guard, advise, and love and cuddle
With honey melting within me like toffee.
The drums are loud in rhythm with mine,
Saying passion in metronomed kicks and snares.
With mine, the orchestra’s beyond the spheres
As both beats intertwine to weave these sweet lines.
Hush! pause this instant as I hold my love.
Pause only, let me hold my love forevermore.
(c) Nyonglema
Count your blessings
Hit the mark more often
Reading, Writing, Hearing and Tasting the Art of Life
When reluctance gives in to the urge of expression....
waghni 