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

YOLO #beFree #YOLO

 

“You only live once.”  = “You only got one shot”

How did we get to such a conundrum:

“You only live once” = “Make it brief and intense”

“You only live once” = “Binge it regardless how it ends”

“You only live once” = “Get some drug addiction friends”

“You only live once” = “Lose your morals, and intelligence”

 

Now youth roam in confusion thinking of freedom

In magazine-imposed gear or dreams of TV show stardom.

While questions go Brownian within my cranium:

If it were a vampire movie, and it was the last silver bullet,

“You only live once” = “Waste that mofo like you got no sense?”

If it were a cowboy standdown, and you were on the other gun’s holster

“You only live once” = “Do the hammer dance, for it all ends”?

If you were at a job interview to feed  abandoned mom and 3 starve siblings,

“You only live once” = “Tell them it’s the job or murderous intents”?

All in the new politically correct nonsense: You have freedom!

Freedom to jump over the ledge, to keep your family on the edge

Wondering if you are alive or dead, wishing you’ll be back to bed.

 

I remember a Maverick changed the life of one hardcore YOLOer

And he realised bingeing it out just makes you a sad follower.

YOLO, YOLO, YOLO, YOLO

YOLO, YOLO, YOLO, YOLO

 

I see vomit pools, drunk pools, blood pools, lost schools

More fools, mere lost tools for whoever the system picks as more cool.

 

YOLO, wanna be my tool?

 

(c) Nyonglema

Across the bridge #Soweto #Sharpeville

                                        RIP to the fallen but: Non sine causa mortis. -Nyonglema

Why didn’t the police throw flowers instead,
As our Master recommends when your cheek gets beat
And you need to turn the other side of your head
In a Stephen forgiveness prayer in the battle heat?

See the children crying the tears of the future
They wished they had, fighting for generations to come
To see freedom and more, to dream of more than manure
And dung, to aim to the sky, but just that you stay calm

And listen. Why didn’t they throw flowers instead
Of gas to rose-prick the eyes, and blows to nose-bleed
Innocence, fighting back with stones, staring scared
But not afraid to give, give, give and sow this seed

Which was to be sown not in blood blood bloodshed?
Why let those lethal tubes let lead lash out
At Ndlovu, Hector, more, while others ducked, the floor red,
Life floating around clothed flesh wide-eyed open mouths.

See….see the children crying the tears of the future
Dreamed, which the next generation finally received,
And smile the smile of 100 years, sitting on pure
Bliss on a porch, like watching your eldest getting free.

(c) Nyonglema

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