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
What tales are you telling your thoughts today?
Walking to face your Facebook feed elated,
Post pictures of you in Adonis' heyday,
And thumbs up fast to keep reality sedated
Motivational merchants pick them to hawk wares
And tell the youth of paths that lead to heaven
Only the trials you bear beset like grizzly bears
When you close your eyes to walk to heaven.
As if ever anything came from being chained down
They offer hope as: "Be yourself", "Keep your booth"
You fight with Science, seek solace on tainted ground
While soaking pillows in salient prayers with solid truth.
Real isn't reeled anymore out the tube.
It was rolled up before as snippets of the world, but with CGI
Nothing is as it was.
What should I believe? What should you believe?
Man saw the void and with words and steel
Said let there be light, and so it was, and night was day
And day was day, there was neither evening nor day.
Then they flooded pieces of land, and dried up seas
And tweaked the plants, and fiddled with DNA,
Spawning animals new and weird. Still no day.
And then they set about to make man
According to the images of the Vogue 2008 summer edition.
They looked on and saw it was good.
And rushed to teach our children:
1 + 1 depends on what your 1 means
A cell depends on what you want it to mean
An electron is whatever of those particles you choose
And Kirchoff's nodal law is even applicable to voltage
And your nationality depends on your heart's choice
And a mountain is an upside-down valley
And there still wasn't any day.
Men became women, women became men, and monkeys
Said they'd rather be called humanoid, or else!
The bonobos said they were descendants of wolves
While those who stayed off the green screen tried to say:
"If you jump of a 10-storey building, you will die".
But who is to believe them?
The green screen made Thanos!
While there's a war on truth, now they add a threat to competition?
The solution to a special woman dominating sport is to suppress her?
It's unfair what they are doing to Caster Semenya, a woman,
meanwhile transgender women are allowed to participate with
"advantaged" bone and muscle structure from their DNA, even with
lower testosterone. Men remain on par with men even after sex change,
which puts them at an advantage over women.
Politically I correct in white blobs the lines
Of the words I wrote for his eyes;
Well, for their ears in a voice so
Powerful it could start wars or more.
“You can’t say this.” The cat purrs
Nonchalant, rubbing against my foot.
It’s hungry, but I can’t say that.
I must say it needs food as I part
With part of my chicken wings.
“You can’t say that.” It claws away,
The poor creature I saved.
It was a sunny hour on a tired day
With sweat camped on my face,
And work slowly eating up my brain.
I saw it homeless…hmmm, no…street camping
With one eye gouged, scraggly fur
And dark…hmmm…coloured blotches.
Compassion picket it up and cleaned it home.
“This just won’t work!” I asked myself
Who’d want it blind…hmmm…of poor sight?
Tended is caked wounds…hmmm…skin lesions
And brushed dirt off its fur. The speech
Was looking whiter and whiter, though.
But it just chewed away like on the fist day,
When delicious milk in my silver bowl slithered
And constricted grave hunger. And I kept
Blobbing out: “weak”, “pain”, “man”, “black”
“Woman”, “white”, “poor”, “rich”, “tears”, “God”.
I see… I see bird droppings zoom out the sky and
Humans drop looking for luck in different spheres.
The crowd panics. Not felled yet, trees stand
And run for the woods where leaves shield.
I see droppings hit the leaves, souls leave the trees.
Truth or dare?
Silence is the ether that burns the soul of the soldier.
Nobody believes the wood was felled,
As no noise was made when it fell in the woods.
Everybody says deforestation is a lie.
There were no birds, there were no trees,
There is no Earth, there is no you, nor me.
Just truth caught in a dare:
Dare to exist,
Dare to pervade,
Dare to be exchanged or dare to grow.
It lurks in the backdrop of wood becoming coffins.
It seeks to become a speaker box,
It seeks the Carpenter to heal the wounds,
But as is the case often, nobody wants to be true or dare.
Pride rides the pain of the thuds on Atlas’ load,
Rippling through his bones, and he bumps on the trees.
Then he screams: “Speak ye truth! speak to each other, in truth!”
And the leaves rustle,
And they listen.
And the felling stops,
And the yelling stops,
And truth dares to bare itself on the forest floor as
A shoot luscious green, midribs transfigured
In the shimmer of the star of the amber dawn.
Communication can hurt or heal, it all depends on the wielder. But I’ve seen the simple exchange of perspectives lead to new solutions yet unheard of, which lead to bright futures for people whose positions hitherto seemed so radical that no consensus was possible.
Let’s dare to challenge our status quo. The future is ahead of, not behind us
This is a poem in Français I wrote in 2004 of one of those boyish moments, when you’re stuck between telling her or getting rejected by her, or wondering how long it will all last.
Hope you enjoy my words from long ago 🙂
J’errais sur les chemins secrets de l’Olympe,
Cherchant l’archer au visage d’ange
Qui aurait chambouler tant de vie simple.
« Et si une fois de plus je me retrouvais fusil sur la tempe,
A chasser l’ombre de cette muse partie, à pleurer des Ganges ? »
Je lui demandai inquiet, quand j’eu retrouvé son temple.
Son regard fixe me frustrait ; j’étais furieux :
« Des réponses ! Vous êtes sans ignorer ma peine,
Mais vous jouez au sourd ! » Il me paru curieux
Que mon affront aux dieux
Me laissa indemne.
J’étais triste. Je me levai ; j’aurai mieux fait d’éviter ces lieux.
« Mon cœur souffre le martyre ! Je n’ai pas l’habitude ! »
De marbre il resta, je pensai à mon ange,
Au fait que je serais mieux avec elle que de causer à cette statue,
Qu’au lieu de la tenir, je me torturais à vouloir changer mon statut.
« Adieu le Taciturne, je rentre vider ma grange
A celle qui devrait l’entendre. Je change d’attitude. »
Un éveil confus ce fut,
Mais la vérité me paru plus clair ;
Mettons Cupidon de côté, les réponses c’est nous.
Cette fois je ferai confiance à mon pouls,
Chose qu’à ce jour je n’ai su faire !
Mais « Me fera-t-elle confiance ? Le mériterai-je ?
Et si l’amour un jour se fanait ? »
« Nous lui ferons conserver sa grandeur. »
It all starts with a good intention If I could change the world? The switching of seasons can’t bring constancy of reason, Where my people live treason, and profound division In silence, in a world Where their full potential is nobody’s goddamn mission. And escalates with good intention And that’s insane! My damn mission is to alleviate your burdens, Elevate the status quo, no matter what the wardens Say in this bloody prison, I’m breaking the chains I’m going to fight for you sisters and brethren! And intentions with fodder gain attention And graciously turn to further actions Fight till my blood’s gone. Walk with me, fallen and lost, walk with me past the present Into a future where there’s no sullen, no dreams evanescent Only throngs growing strong, And I’ll make you see Heaven on Earth when I’m president! And the actions grow to the expectations Of those good intentions And now I’m president, how much better! See justice live in day, live from vampirism of before, See collaboration with the opposition, but I want more! Let’s find solution to every matter Through collaboration, I’ve told you I need more and more. And temptation comes to haunt the decisions As attention clouds intentions, warping the actions I told you I need more, more! Walk with me. What? I said coercion isn’t a foreign language, When the army can assuage, or assiege your verbiage Of disses to me, and my chores! Walk with me now, or you’ll be safe from hampering us in your cage! And the actions warped by other intentions… For we must reach this target, Set by him who pays our bills. We must comply with the majority’s wish. Nothing else matters than keeping this power I have, this power which Ebbs from my assets, And if you think of stopping me, we’ll have you served a gifted dish And the actions warped by other intentions… And if anybody complains, We are taking them out. Ungrateful lot, I made you who you are And now you question the very mind that took you out of mar Into a new existence plane? Damn you all, let’s see who can get me off this high of power! And the actions kill the budding good intentions, As if good intentions were greed, Forgetting, where they came from, Forgetting that they were fighting greed. And that all started with a good intention. (c) Nyonglema
Breathe, breathe…I wish I could breathe.
The infant’s face crimped into morbid contortion by pending asphyxia
Breathe, the breath Adam received
The breath we all so very need,
Will dad listen? Will mum listen? Do they care about pending hypercapnia?
Breathe, no I won’t breathe till they care
Till somewhere in those stones a rose springs
Till within their souls they yearn to listen to me
Listen to my tears choking within my lungs
Curdling under my eyelids, hanging on a lash
As the echo of my dying complaints.
Did they hear it? I know it escalated from whimpers
To murmurs to screams…but all are now dying.
Like me, losing my life each dying second,
But nobody cares.
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.