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Best Poems Written by Nsah Mala

Below are the all-time best Nsah Mala poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Environment, My Home

My Environment is my only homely home
That I know. Plants and animals alike love this lovely home.
I love to sit and marvel at the beauties of our beautiful E nvironment,
To see rivers flow freely in the democracy of the environment,
Grass green and as fresh as a fish in untouched natural free waters,
Births singing and ringing like universal timekeepers in all matters.
This wonderful Environment is the handwork of our ever-caring Father
And when it is well looked after, it could be next to our Father.
My health and my wealth all come from this cherished home.
How I wish foolish humans do not tarnish the harmony of this dear home!

I hate to see toxic smoke from industries go up carelessly and invited to Ozone
Because when Ozone shall have died, Sun will cease to be our friend.
I hate to see fishermen throw away a young fish
Just as I hate to see my neighbour dumping refuse into running waters.
A disorderly forester cannot be a friendly friend to me.
And why not he or she who farms into a river valley, bed and source?
I am sick when farmers burn bushes and
I cannot marry she who cooks just any kind of meat and kills the viper.
Pollution and anything harmful should not be in my Environment, our Environment,
Because I too will be harmful to those who tolerate such things
For I hate to live a brief life.

(Published in CHAINING FREEDOM, 2012)

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Leaves On Leave

Sometimes trees’ green fingers
Stand still like reposing harbingers
Of hope and despair; they meditate
On our ignorance of them who medicate
Us when diseases burgle into our souls
Taking us unawares like April fools.

At times tree branches and leaves
Come to a halt and fold up their sleeves.
Like parentless kids, they stand still,
Holding Ozone Crisis Meetings until
God’s silent servants come and sway
Them from angle to angle, wiping away

The spells of fear that cloud our faces
Each time leaves go on leave leaving no traces
Of further existence for Man who digs
His graves whenever he murders figs—
The figs that link us to the Unseen Being
Who reveals His presence in Man’s wellbeing.

But when God’s blowing sons and daughters
Sweep across Earth, letting twigs leave their fathers,
Falling twigs and dried leaves clatter
And produce celestial music to flatter
Man while lizards play basses with tails
And flying fowls chant solos and tales.

Then Man joins this universal worship,
Going down on knees to supplicate God’s fellowship,
Feeding his doubting heart with conviction
As Christ’s promises come to completion
Revealing the active hands of a Father Invisible
Who marvels His creatures with things invincible.

When these invisible but active servants of God gather
More momentum in synergy with Sun, leaves wither,
Tree trunks go epileptic while roofs migrate
And mortal Man gets to concentrate
On these leaves and stems which go on retirement
To remind him of his own imminent retirement.

(Between Carriere and Mbankolo, Sunday 02 December 2012)

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Syrian Graveyard

Unnumbered human corpses
mutilated and spread
like illegally-shot elephants in Waza Park!
From ‘man know thyself’
to ‘man hates himself’-
humans mutilate humans!

Future-bound glorious infants,
feeble moms
and luck-abandoned dads
bombed, suffocated, shot and slain
by politico-economic drunks!
Yawning stomachs here,
blood-dripping arms there,
open-mouth frozen heads here,
rotting breasts there,
decomposing legs here…

We are in Homs,
we are in Alep,
we are in Damascus where
there has been fierce fighting
since long ago…


Vultures in black suits
brace up
for carnivorous autopsy ;
they transport chunks from
the uninterred corpses to
carnivorous mortuaries up-sky.
Maggots, ants and scavengers
perform rapid interments,
substituting caskets and graves
with their innards and
facilitating the cycle from dust to dust.

These mean creatures,
some flying,
others crawling
and some others walking,
feast on the garbage corpses ,
mocking man’s inhumanity to man
and celebrating
this sudden twist of values—
the beastification of humans and
the humanisation of beasts.

They mock us,
they mock us
for this sudden twist of values.
They also mock us and bemoan
the occidental-egoistic planes
that burned
infinite barrels
of exploitation fuel on Libyan skies,
urinating bombs and missiles,
grinding and crushing humans for humans
or humans for oil.

Aha! What a twist of values!
Exploitation went mad
and naked in Bengazi…

We are in Homs,
we are Alep,
we are in Damascus
where all Pauls
have gone Sauls…

Annan can’t understand
Libyan
humanitarians’ whereabouts
now. His six points
repose in occidental dust bins.
Then he sighs.
Then he sighs,
performs Pilatism
and gives up.

Moscow and London
persistently draw parallels
that can only
meet magically
in Damascus.
So-called World Powers
Now ride snails to
Syrian emergency meetings
while they were flown
in swallows to Tripoli.



We are in Homs,
we are in Alep,
we are in Damascus
where countless infinities
of Arab eyes have focused
on one cushion since last year :
one cushion of thorns and pleasure,
one cushion of spikes and leisure.

The solution then?
It only lies back
in the Syrian Graveyard.

Syrians, counts these abandoned, mutilated,
rotting, decomposing corpses.
Count them and drop your arms.
Count them, drop your arms
and impregnate your land
with progress.

Know this: There is only one
seat in every presidency…
A president may toy
with a human constitution,
but can never ever
thwart the Womb-to-Tomb Constitution .

(Mbankolo, 6 August 2012)

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Love

Those who don’t love me don’t hate me either.
What they would have loved is absent in me.
Those who claim to love me love something else.
What they love is that which I can offer, nothing else.
Where there is beauty, wealth, knowledge…, there love goes.
But, put my soul here and see; to love it nobody does.

I love those who don’t love me for before them,
I stand to lose nothing; no favours for them.
Nothing too do I expect from them in reality
Since love is all about giving and taking in reality.
I am thus glad that in no love there is love.

(Published in CHAINING FREEDOM, 2012)

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Beasts On Two Legs

I heard a cry,

A lad of four bled

After having quenched

Her Dad's libidinal thirst



I saw the door open,

Brother and sister walked out,

Adam's forbidden apple having been eaten

As instructed in the blood-house of money



In New York I heard a cry,

Woman was on woman

While man and man got glowed

In the vastness of democracy and human rights



From Yaounde down to Abuja,

I saw exposed human breasts, stomachs

And laps in clothes made for whores

In lands where emancipation is madness



By 2035 while Camkingdom rises to shine,

Breasts shall hang out, our Mums shall go naked,

Eliminating unborns as ordained in Macputu... We are beasts on two legs!

(Published in CHAINING FREEDOM, 2012)

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Doomed Century

TWENTY thousand years after the Lamb.
New nocturnal pulpits here and there,
While He said be united in His name.
Deliverance from misery and maladies,
We now preach. No more poor in spirit?
Abortion, woman-woman, nakedness…we now decree.
No more Sodom and Gomorrah?

FIRST class terror we do implant.
Big tycoons, big bombs; little Afro-Asians, no guns
Because peace is white and terror is black.
Friendly tyrants are free to reign.
You key your country inwards? Beware their bombs.
But they rescued Tripolians! Then, no road to Syria?
After all, wary-farms must be watered;
Terror flames must be fanned;
Otherwise, no business in weaponry.

CENTURY of doom! Faithless, heartless, hopeless Century!
Quake, clash, crash, wreck…here and there!
Coup, riot, strike, mutiny…here and there!
Hear Ozone crying! No yields from Denmark?
I hear AIDS’ troops harking victims to pieces.
Boom, boom, boom, boom…everywhere. Opium! Opium!
Opium in religious sacks! “Musa and John are One”, we must know.
Let’s all kneel before the Lamb
Because every second we are doomed!
Best punctuation of this century? Question mark?

(Published in CHAINING FREEDOM, 2012)