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nyonglema

Words from today to stir a new tomorrow from yesterday

Dusting the pictures #immigrant #Libya

I’m looking at my wall decorated with frames of different sizes, colours,
Most of eyes smiling back at me from years I have long forgotten.
The dust jealous sits upon them scattering the rays of sun that slowly pours
Into the living room to warm the day at noon and bathe my cotton.

This can’t be: my cloth takes them down one by one to clean.
I remember this day in the village amongst tall corn crops and loud silence
When we tilled the soil and planted corn, groundnuts , beans
And mum snapped away at you, me in the hoes and farm tools’ violence.

I remember this day in the village amongst tall corn crops and loud silence
We held hands and shared smiles and selfies, laughs and hugs. Then
Was a hell of a time. No TVs nearby to fill our joyous days with violence
Just you, me, holding hands while the tweets swung the leaves above them.

Look how fragile the kids look into your face staring at me,
The camera captured every curve of your face like sharp knives
Pointed at the salt trickling now down my cheeks. I just wish I could be
Wiping the dust off this with you, while we walk through our lives.

This one is a clipping from the news on that day..I won’t forget that day,
Black and white text to tell me that I’ll never see your face again.
The sea shall keep you safe, with our kids…why did you run away?
I wipe off the dust near “…boat capsizes over the Mediterranean… ”

(c) Nyonglema

Working for the white man #noRacism #coloursNsmells

This is what I learnt from working for the white man:

  The rainy season will come each year, and so will the dry
  And bosses can be mean, they can be sad, they can be shy
  And life will move on even when the targets seem high
  And the team will be there, to scoff but sometimes say fie
  But they can lift you high with a good laugh, or just smile.
  I learnt to be humble in front of challenges, for God
  Put them there to shine through the successes we got.

Then,

This is what I learnt from working for the black man:

  The rainy season will come each year, and so will the dry
  And bosses can be mean, they can be sad, they can be shy
  And life will move on even when the targets seem high
  And the team will be there, to scoff but sometimes say fie
  But they can lift you high with a good laugh, or just smile.
  I learnt to be humble in front of challenges, for God
Put them there to shine through the successes we got.

And,

This is what I learnt from your puzzled mind:

We’re all the same deep under, and the colour doesn’t determine
  What success or failure or iniquity or sanctity you bring.
Black, white, dark, spiked, light, night, yellow, mellow,
  I’m looking at you looking at me, but we’re all one big shadow
On this sphere spinning in nothingness. That colours, smells
  Are just ways to make the labrador hate hounds and spaniels.

I learnt to be humble in front of challenges, for God
Put them there to shine through as we merge into one pod.

(c) Nyonglema

Laudatur probitas #politics

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

Fear #nothing

The roaches are tangoing with the spiders, near a tavern full of bats, humming the melodies snakes taught them. It’s dark, and ghosts look on at vampires going from bat to ghastly human…and they are all conspiring to do one thing: GET YOU!

Did I just describe what your fear looks like?
When your heartbeat sits on the top pike
And your breath loses control on the broken dyke?

Breathe, breathe. You break into sweat clinging at your sheets in the dark.
It’s just a nightmare: soon the sun’s light will bathe the singing of the lark.

(c) Nyonglema

Palms for murder #HolyWeek #Easter

You know a human’s about to get you when the honours come out.
They raise you on a pedestal, higher than your donkey mount.
They hail you, with palms to grow on your funeral mound.

But that’s not today, today it’s Hosanna in excelsis
It’s blessings to He who comes from deepest exegesis
It’s wholly holy people praising salvation’s catalysis.

Not the funeral mound no! But seeking some greater cause:
Freedom from the Roman “alphabet” to “alefbet” theirs.
Freedom borne by a donkey marching majestically with no pause.

You know a human’s about to get you, when you’re set to fail
By their standards. We’re human, and when we start to ail,
Everything seems either brighter or of a darker shade of pale

We raise Hope on a pedestal, higher than a donkey can,
And wish the standards are earthly unlike the first Eden ban,
Or the Earth in glory bathed, but humble when it began.

And we miss it all, the real glitter that Easter brings,
Looking for the suave mauve of bigger and bigger kings,
In a manger, then a cross, then a tomb, then everything.

(c) Nyonglema

We only wear Boss, Hugo that is #racism #colour

Adapted from 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Negro

How to judge a man? I got some inspiration below….hint smell is important:

The mention that mentally the leather fragrance wearer is inferior to the wood fragrance wearer, may be taken as generally true of that whole race: “the leather fragrance wearing children were sharp, intelligent and full of vivacity, but on approaching the adult period a gradual change set in. The intellect seemed to become clouded, animation giving place to a sort of lethargy, briskness yielding to indolence. We must necessarily suppose that the development of the leather fragrance wearer and woody ones proceeds on different lines. While with the latter the volume of the brain grows with the expansion of the brainpan, in the former the growth of the brain is on the contrary arrested by the premature closing of the cranial sutures and lateral pressure of the frontal bone.This explanation is reasonable and even probable as a contributing cause; but evidence is lacking on the subject and the arrest or even deterioration in mental development is no doubt very largely due to the fact that after puberty sexual matters take the first place in the leather fragrance wearer’s life and thoughts. At the same time his environment has not been such as would tend to produce in him the restless energy which has led to the progress of the wood fragrance wearer; and the easy conditions of tropical life and the fertility of the soil have reduced the struggle for existence to a minimum. But though the mental inferiority of the leather fragrance wearing to the wood fragrance wearing or floral fragrance wearing races is a fact, it has often been exaggerated; the leather fragrance wearer is largely the creature of his environment, and it is not fair to judge of his mental capacity by tests taken directly from the environment of the wood fragrance wearer, as for instance tests in mental arithmetic; skill in reckoning is necessary to the wood fragrance wearing race, and it has cultivated this faculty; but it is not necessary to the leather fragrance wearers.

And I believe this because if you smell different, you’re definitely inferior. I pick the woodiness of Hugo Boss. YOU ARE INFERIOR!

Oh, and also, I’m going to be judging you because your skin doesn’t reflect the same light wavelengths as mine…YOU ARE INFERIOR!

Then I’ll make up some excuses about your anatomy based on your fragrance and light waves…but bottom line is you’re INFERIOR! Deal with it.

(c) Nyonglema

PS: Colour ain’t a thing! Black, white, yellow, brown, green…doesn’t matter. I’m brown, you’re whatever you are…but we’re all humans trying to make sense of this big ball we’re on and what lies beyond. Let’s walk together. There are more reasons to think we’re similar, than to start limiting ourselves with colours, scents, and lame measurements.

 

Unus pro duobus #unity #bringBackOurInternet

Trust is the dragonfly of days of drench,
Though both brothers bother same from the same trench,
Wherein chains chip away their days into nothingness.
Their solace now whips around in he depths of the Loch Ness.

Universe 1: Damnation

“Brother conceal my future escapade cleverly
That I may bring panacea to you and me quite early”
But Trust had left the pit: “Together we are,
Together we remain or together to go far.”

“But, but two easy targets defeat our purpose!”
“But, but two easily defeat our perpetrators!”
“But the foundation of such a plan is our chains,
And one must be deception to the watching banes”

But Trust had left the pit: “Together we are,
And as am bigger, you’re not going far”
Trust is the dragonfly of days of drench,
Though both brothers bother same within the same trench.

“But…”, “I warned, and now your scorn means no lunch
Till your mind leaves the rocket of that mad hunch.
Together we are..” “And together we slowly fade
We won’t go far by licking their laurels of jade,

I stand my ground. Keep the food, but you shall
Conceal my escapade, or see the death of your pal.”
“Bluff, buff bluff! No food, let’s see the hourglass
Of your resolve heap hunger: Yes the idea will pass!”

Universe 2: Salvation

But in an alternate universe where Trust serves
The needy with new pathways out of tight curves:
“But, but two easy targets defeat our hidden purpose!”
” Yes, one safe, then two will easily defeat the perpetrators!”

Then the bigger worked at the weak link to free the boon
And Trust infused them with the will, and one was free
A shadow in the dim light of hell’s guarded cocoon
Saw light again, heard birds sing to the dancing trees.

The tears exploded out his accommodating eyes down
His cheeks, mingled with joy, and hope for a future
As he forged the mettle of captivity’s breakdown
One step of freedom at a time: the overture.

And Trust still lived with their click: “Together we are,
Together we’ll remain so together we will go far.”
“Yes, brother, let’s head to where we’ve sought long
And bring back ours. First water and food make you strong”

The battle brief baffled the captors, and the strong captive
Saved by friends welcomed Trust in the smiles of yesteryear,
Smiling the smile of one whom Genghis Khan would reprieve,
As they left what hell had become home for more than a 100 years.

(c) Nyonglema

Breathe ….not #bringbackourInternet

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.

(c) Nyonglema

Thanks #myRose #myLove

That night, the night it all started,
The night I first saw my rose
Gliding in beauty, blissfully baffling
The listeners she had attracted,
I was still deep in my woes,
Dark in my soul: love to me was throes.
The first glance brought back hope,
That hope for true love we all have, but soon lose.

That night, the night it all started,
I thought roses were all prickly, hated everything
That related to that word, scared to cope
In this world, my pain not so abstracted,
For I had tasted it all, lay in my corner shivering
But you came into my world, a voice so comforting
Left me wondering why Mnemosyna had sent a muse
To faze me: Cupido got that one!

That night, after it had all started,
Her look during our presentation, no more would I mope,
Chewing my pen ‘tween 2 words, who’ll I choose?
All adventures crumbled, those roses had me scratched,
Left me scarred, thinking of a rope
End my life, end as lifeless as the bar of erudite soap
The 14th of July had brought to Lilian,
She who lied to me, traded me for my best friend.

That night, after it had all started,
I thought of Lilian and the similar moose
Who’d played me for a fool, my heart an empty can.
But that night it restarted
The sweet pain filling me, wrecking my sinews
As I looked at her look, chatted about the news,
But heard no other noise, but the beautiful blend
Of her melodious voice with music of the spheres.

That night, I knew it had restarted,
The psychological feeling, these 2 hearts were meant one,
She knew it too: she whispered it in a voice so fragrant
And together we traveled. It had started.
The skin smooth under my strolling hands,
Lips speaking a language all understand,
All the while, she returning my care,
Feelings we could not control.

That night, thank God it had started.
Everyday I pay God it never ends.
A rose whose prickly stem I could bear,
And who my weaknesses knew but never retreated.
A firm stem to lean on, when pain gets me bent,
By my side, forgiving the unfaithful ends.
I have been given, and never will let fall
My rose, thank you for giving me hope.

(c) Nyonglema

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