Perchance blank sheets had choice,
they’d refuse the stain of ink.
Yet ink delights in spoiling emptiness,
like palm-oil staining white cloth.
That defiance—
to create and keep records,
to write poems for posterity—
perhaps, or perhaps not,
like smoke beneath a cover,
escaping what time cannot cage.
Sometimes poems sing into thin air,
with no eardrum to soothe.
Other times they endure the test of time,
speaking as soliloquy to the unborn,
through wisdom and well-chosen words—
like echoes billowing through valleys.
Few then recall the ink
that shaped such classics,
long dried and discarded,
like footprints blurred by rain.
It is the paper that blows the kisses,
absorbs the tears,
and wears the credits given.
So paper may delight,
while ink grows dispirited.
For obscurity never veils real visions—
a passing cloud misguides the senses
from knowing who holds true honour.
So paper may rejoice,
and ink fall into silence.
Yet vision does not drown in shadows—
like sunlight veiled by dust,
truth will still gleam through,
to honour ink that turns blankness to beauty.
The oil of life
when one writes about minorities
no one wants to know, the next page is about knitting, please.
We do not like to read about losers
and our responsibility for their failure.
A tsunami came rolled over the landscape, changed it
and the language, unstoppable misery for the people
who lived there, but it brought us the automobile.
The Palestinians have lost most of their land and now
they are losing more, except their dignity.
We don´t want to know the next page about knitting, please.
Let us read about the super-rich and their yachts
and Rolls Royce, we like to see the pictures of them
in magazines, their villas and life mode-
we dislike the truth, and it demands us to sit up straight
and think about the world and the orangutan losing
their habitat to palm oil.
Have you seen my children?
I said, No,
Thank you, she said, but
I left them in the house, and
Now I can't find them.
Fast, go to the station, and
Make your case,
She took heed, and went.
Another day she returned,
My friend, she called, the will
Of the enemies shall not manifest
In your life,
In the name of Jesus,
I said Amen,
She thanked me, and left.
Her thanks was regardless to
Our former meeting, but culture,
How beautiful?
Another day, I caught her,
Dropping some crumbs of bread,and
Palm oil in two separate bowls
In my doorstep.
Other days, I saw her
Eating filth, and
Singing cheerfully as she dined.
Yesterday, she sat on the side of
The road talking her chest bare,
I stood on, and listened;
She was preaching the Gospel of Truth, and
She does so every morning.
O Merciful!
Lift now the burden ladened on
This precious soul.
Those days.....
When men didn't attempt to cage the lion,
Domesticate the cobra or try to play god
Those days when men didn't dog breed, cat breed,
Moon walk or day dream
Nature wouldn't bark so violently
With climate change, earth quakes and Tsunamis
Those days when men knew the value of palmwine, kola nut,
Utaba and it's efficacy...the insidious aroma
Of smoked yam, dipped in palm oil, pepper and salt, rattled
Our air pipe under the comfortable thatch
Of raffia palm and Bamboo sticks;
Chop sticks were alien to us
Those days.....
When a hunter would not dare return home
Empty handed for fear of being labelled efulefu
Those days when loin cloth wrapped around our sacred neck;
Gray hair, bald head, and silver stricken beard
Oozed wisdom, knowledge and understanding
Those days.....
Borneo Pygmy Elephants are listed as, endangered
and they were isolated, about 300 thousand years ago
from their cousins, on mainland Asia and Sumatra
and they are known as, the smallest Asian Elephant
They have shrinking forests, with human settlements
and there’s a lot of logging, with a conveyor belt running
There are palm oil plantations, creating a lot of sediment
and a lot of agriculture, destroying their natural environment
Palm oil
when one writes about minorities
no one wants to know, the next page about knitting, please.
We do not like to read about losers
and our responsibility for their failure.
A tsunami came rolled over the landscape, changed it
and the language, unstoppable misery for the people
who lived there, but it brought us the automobile.
The Palestinians have lost most of their land and now
they are losing more, except their dignity.
We don´t want to know, the next page about knitting, please.
Let us read about the super-rich, their yachts
and Rolls Royce, we like to see the pictures of them
in magazines, their villas and life mode
we dislike the truth, and it demands us to sit up straight
and think about the world and the orangutan losing
their habitat to palm oil.
We should have let them stay,
Since they brought Christianity,
formal education and civilization.
We should have let them stay,
Even though they made away with African valuables such as gold, ivory, rubber, palm oil, wood, cotton, artifacts, etc.
We should have let them stay,
Even though the reason for their mission was for slave trade and cheap labour.
We should have let them stay,
As able-bodied Africans were amassed to the European tobacco plantations by force, deceit or exchange.
We should have let them stay,
Even though they saw Africans as barbaric and uncivilized;
And considered African culture as inferior to their own and therefore needed to be replaced.
But it hurts so deep like a knife,
That they left but still controls the politics and economy our country.
This effervescent appetite
To cuddle and huddle
Your warmth and plum;
Your bush, green,
Wild life and natural sunshine
A craving, gushing down
Like a torrent of water
From a million feet of water falls;
A reminisce of a colorful dark night
Of passionate bliss, chatter and laughter
Under thatch roof and hut
Of sacred fingers dipped
In palm oil with yam
Our resonant voices
Saturated by the sting
Of fresh palm wine
And the spike
Of blazing tobacco pipes
In the African twilight.
Like a lost sheep,
A million stars and diamonds
Cannot eclipse this natural feeling
And yearning to retort
To the bright days of our ancestors;
Bright days of indurate astuteness and purity
Days, I long to kick-start,
Inflame and reignite;
Bright colorful nights
Of our mundane commune
With our ancestors...
A million stars and diamonds
Cannot eclipse this bright
Colorful nights of ancestral commune;
Bright, dark, illuminated nights
Of rebirth, renewal and regeneration,
To:
Vacate this gnawing feeling
Of voicelessness, void and vanity
I'm sorry young lady your future has gone
Capitalism's done irreversible wrong
Not in my name, I shout from the roof top
I've been fighting the same fight,
Hoping one day it'll stop
Poison our food our water our air
Capitalism's the cause
Cause of despair
Profit before health
Is the capitalist way
Death creates wealth
With urban decay
Our planet is dying
It's on its knees
Our air is polluted
Bringing more disease
Not in my name, I shout from the roof top
I've been fighting the same fight,
Hoping one day it'll stop
Our oceans are filthy
Rivers unclean
Trees disappearing
Decimation of green
Palm oil, soya
Cattle and gas
Deforestation now on mass
Ice caps are melting
Permafrost thawing
Sea levels rising
Species declining
Weather's changing
For the worse
Getting hotter, colder
Unpredictable more diverse
This is the world that's been left to you
All for the profits of the 1% few
I'm sorry young lady your future has gone
Capitalism's done irreversible wrong
Not in my name, I shout from the roof top
I've been fighting the same fight
Hoping one day it'll stop
I gave up my clothes drier,
For cleaner air.
I started a metal recycling scheme for my local church,
So as not to leave them in the lurch.
I dig most of my waste food into the garden,
And it now looks more like a miniature Eden,
I separate my paper and plastics,
And only toss waste into bins.
I try not to buy products that contain palm oil,
Cause the environment they only spoil.
I read up on what is user friendly,
And treat Animals Kindly.
I pick up rubbish in the street,
To make it look neat.
I hardly ever take the car anywhere I can walk,
As I try to not be just all talk.
I write on both sides of a sheet of paper,
Which I think quite proper.
We don't have a TV in every room,
Or more than one broom.
Our batteries we re-charge,
Despite the extra charge.
Yet my biggest contribution to sustainability,
Something that needs a lot of agility,
And built up resist-ability,
That will give you respectability,
And your dollars longevity,
Leaving you with credibility,
When if you only need one commodity,
That is all you come out with, hopefully.
delightful palm oil
puts orangutan at risk
barren land of shame
what does it take to convince retards, who run companies their wrong!
polluting the seas is destroying a main source of oxygen.
the stuff we breathe. palm oil found toxic to life, sea and shore, dogs too!
JACKIE OILY PALMS
I recall them days that i lived
at the east coast of Kenya
then a college boy
We lived at the hostels near customs
in a place near an animal orphanage
Hallers park- near Bombolulu town
Where coastal s loved to partake
sweet palm wine straight from
the palm trees all over the region
Me Georgie and Jackie
then best of buddies
went to try out the wine
Started out on the real wine
before they offered us 'cham'
claiming its oil from the palms
First taste i know its locally distilled spirits
very potent and lethal.. i edge my buddies off
but despite.. they decide to partake the spirit
back to the eatery Jackie now eating
from the dinning table apparently those
who partake palm oil don't need plates
Jackie following day too sick cant attend classes
we did-int tell him the secret that me and Georgie
threw up all we drank from our delicate stomachs
Brave Jackie held it in and Memo had to comfort him
..Sorry Jackie you have malaria fever and your so sick..hic..
we dint let go that twas the palm spirits haunting our Jackie
lewis k NYAGA
Can you describe a baby’s smile? Let me try:
A breath of fresh air while the sewage tanks are drained;
That momentary silence when gunshots fill the air;
Cool palm oil on your tongue after your first crab curry;
when you shut your eyes to stop incoming traffic glare;
when a persistent cramp finally disappears;
Taking off your blistering work shoes when the day is done.
The pureness of the lines, and the innocence written in an infant’s smile cast all my stress away.
Unrestrained, untainted. The pure expression of appreciation that says: “Yes, you count”, “Thank you!”, “I love you” without uttering a word.
Those 5 seconds where everything means so much more, where nothing else matters than how happy this human being is of the mutual expression of love, as you smile back.
(c)Nyonglema
In the comments, tell us what your baby’s smile is like to you….
Shortly seeking to take you
As a witty in-law,
I am in anticipation.
Do you vow to:
Love and to cherish
Keep your sweetheart
Free of bruises?
Hold her in
Sickness and health
In wealth and poverty
Till death do you part?
My sister and her family
Come as one parcel
We sell not our daughters
To men of the night.
The night of your cross-over
The scorpions that sit on the road
Will be cursed!
The witch that holds the fallopian tube
Banished
The broken plates
Packed with a flourish!
That night of your celebration
I’m rebuking the okra
That will not draw
In Tosan’s pot (tafia!)
Cursed be the palm oil
That will not whiten
When bleached
Cursed be the tangled bedspread
To trip your legs
On your mattress!
Together, the gods will unite
In your case,
We shall blow the horn
Of joy
On that beautiful day.
As I eagerly seek to take you
As loving in-law
I am in haste!
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