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

5 – 10 – 15 #WorldTeachersDay #5thOctober2015

5, 10 and 15 are the hours my body chooses to remember:
Waking up abruptly to the hateful chorus of mechanical clocks
To face the day at 5am with short thermometer fluids.
Then at 10am the buffaloes stampede to the stream, the slide,
A swing overworked while a throng stand and wait to turn,
Unable to see 10h30am where the fun all ends. The balls are working too,
Until all have to wear sad faces at the classroom door.
15h00 to familiar aromas, tastes, visuals, and instead of homework,
I’m studying stage 2 of Super Mario Bros with A-B-C, then X-Y, then L-R
Hoping dad and mum are late enough that I finally make it over
The mathematical complexity of leaping over this gorge!


However, between the 5, 10 and 15 is the treasure my brain will remember.
Glue, match sticks and cardboard were Picasso’s iceberg tip, like me
Then letters like weird glyphs found meaning in a word ballet
On the pages, chalkboards, white on black wisdom screeching in the heat
And my eyes were still sleepy from late night Nintendo adventures.
The smiley faces became ticks, the ticks became grades, the grades
Became appraisals, and each aimed to keep me from straying
And make that other kid proud that he stayed furthest ahead of the pack.
The pressurized air bounces around the room sans-echo:
Years of research presented to my ignorant brain in seconds
And over and over again, I finally get it, and scorn those blokes
Of years past who couldn’t figure out that the apple WILL fall down.
Do it like this, not like this! Manners, planning, praying:
I soaked them all up in floating waves around my ears near my peers,
Till soon I was so filled, I was letting them out to other sponges.
Sadly, none of that ever fixed the chicken scratch I call handwriting!


5, 10 and 15 those three numbers which represent all you were to me:
End of nursery, end of primary, end of secondary and start university!
At each junction you stood, waiting to direct me, and whip…mean correct me.
Thank you the teachers who’ve made me who I’ve become today,
Who shaped the words I’ve chosen to write
And the way I say the jokes which make the souls of friends light.
You’re the garden of the world, for all that is dark and all that is right,
The under-looked power changing the world with red pen, white chalk and black board.


(c) Nyonglema


R.I.P. Mum…you’re the teacher I miss the most, till we meet again!

Sleep Wars #bedtime #tantrums #kids

It’s 8pm again, and by my clock it’s time to shut eyes and dream loud

But, by the clock of who run this place, it’s not that time yet…no not yet

The butterflies have called a meeting with snails in a crowd

While the legos still have to drive up the air to the mountains

And the ideas keep flowing out their youthful fountains


And then everything is a reason to complain in shrill air waves

And contort when grasped, then toss the toys to care’s arms

And while we count on Reason to make them behave

We are at war with forces beyond our deepest understanding

Kids who feel it’s not time yet to go to the land of dreaming


(c) Nyonglema

What would you do if it were you? #refugees #syria #RCA #somalia #eritrea

There are guns shouting fear through your window shutters,

A bomb blast breaks your neighbour’s home and you’re running down the street.

The kids don’t get it. They don’t get it: why is there blood in the gutters?

Why are hands without bodies, heads with gaping mouths, missing severed feet?

The screaming gets louder, and it’s on your spouse’s and your shoulders

To save them from a threat, unarmed, untrained and the closest

You’d come to death were those Expendables movies in your hard disk folders.

The banks are shut, the bus system is shut, you never even had a Toyota starlet.

What would you do if it were you? If you’re playing metal gear solid in your own town?

Only this time, you have one life, no continue nor save, and to your untrained self are tagged

More untrained and even naive souls counting on you’re strength in this showdown.

What would you do if the only option was either death by exhaustion or having your head bagged?

(c) Nyonglema

The Mirage #beYourself #loveYourself

“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
 

Godzilla #tantrums #kidAnxiety

Alles ist gerade durcheinander im Zimmer,
Zerstört sind die Bücher die ich gerne las;
Und der Lärm! O wer hat ‘was getan
Zu mein lieblich Godzilla, kleines Kind meins
Mit Tränen überall auf seinem Gesicht?

(c) Nyonglema

After meals #kidsEnergy #Energiser

When energy has been injected into the atom,
The electrons start jumping from level to level.
In the case of kids, that’s table to table,
And round the whole space, making mum
Wail inside with the noise, while dad cringes
Each time they miss a dangerous fall by inches.

(c) Nyonglema

Once I held a gun #childSoldiers #stopWar

Once I held a gun in the bush.
That Ak47 was nearly my size but I lifted it.
I was fierce and fearless to my foes,
Taking their lives before they could reach for mine.

Yes, once I killed in the bush;
The men who protected their villages,
The women who protected their children,
The children who would avenge their orphan state.

At that time I was a hero in the army
So decorated by war wounds and scars
That pain became the objective of my existence
And transmitting it my only medicine.

Now I’m 16 years old and peace has killed the need for guns.
My grades and skill set mean nothing.
All left is the emptiness in the memories of maimed men,
Mothers, and children.What to do now?

AH…Once I was told taking lives was the life I needed,
But now I know there was much more to hope for.

Much more to aim AT than innocent targets in the bush

(c) Nyonglema

Fading Smoke #collateralDamage #stopWar #peace #bombs

I wave my blistered hand before my bleeding face,
Waving gunpowder smoke and blood fumes in the mist
To see the survivors, to see hope.
But all I see is crushed bones and leaking skulls;
All around the steaming tarmac lie lifeless lads,
Lost lives fill the air with more choking tears.
But we can’t cry now!
“Run! Run! Before they cast another bomb on us!”
I’m on my feet, staggering forward like an alcohol keg,
Surprised to be running alone to the porous camp shelter;
Oblivious to pain, oblivious to care, I stagger on.
Hoping to get my weapon and answer their fire.

It is then it dawns like a wooden blow on me:
I’m no soldier; they aren’t either!
Infant body parts entangled with women and men’s blood
Litter the town square, and I’m staring at the military shelter:
A wooden icecream stand with holes on the whole frame,
And blood , and burnt flesh reeking in the foetid smoke;
And… I break into tears.

(c) Nyonglema

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