citizens of mars

Looking back in retrospect I see that;

As bright as the dark,

was how you were to me.

Now you’re just memories; a sad reduction.

It’s so sad because you’re still alive.

Alive and near, yet so emotionally distant.

Sometimes I feel sad for you;

And on rare occasions, I feel sad because of you.

I always wonder though,

Whats the color of your world?

What love can pierce your iron armour?

Who can reach out and truly touch your soul?

Who can save you from your self-created downward spiral?

Do you bleed and if you do,

How do I ever stop the spreading redness?

So many questions I bear,

With no hope of an answer…maybe thats my curse.

Now, I’m looking for a place to stand and

Its hard, its an emotional task…

in this illusion called your world;

A world as bright as the dark.

nyagah.

FEARLESS!!!!

Like Babel I am towering and intimidating.

My eyes make yours to look down,

My voice makes yours to dry up and shrivel;

I do not speak, I roar!

I do not just walk, I prowl…

Spreading my power with each step.

 

The ground shakes as I walk,

Volcanoes turn into waterfalls.

My sole turns every desert into a lushful green

And my sound turns storms into a sunny bliss.

 

For me, time stands still.

 

I am fearless; unintimidated, unshakable,

Strong like Atlas, as strong as Joan of arc.

When I rise the seasons change.

When I sit the earth kneels.

 

I am unconquered like the universe.

Just like a phoenix;

I thrive where all that is normal dies.

And I shall die in a manner few have died;

Fearlessly!!!!

 

joshua Nyagah-a fearless influencer.

LOVE?

A burning matchstick,

Fire in a little smoky maze

Think about it;

The tiny flame

Sparks up then grows

Shrinks, fades, then is gone

No need to marvel…

If it were strong enough to live,

It would’ve lived on.

If its existence mattered,

I would write a longer song

A longer poem

Devote more thought

Give more of my time

Square out the words and

Develop all the rhymes

But it’s just a matchstick

Whose flame shall shortly die…right?

A memory I shall no longer bear in mind

Goodbye.

Burn away your short life.

Perhaps I shall see you again

When you are reincarnated

Into a beacon

That shall consume my heart, body and soul

And keep me warm

Through the cold night called life.

Then, I shall look at you

And compare you to the stars above

I shall touch your flame

Because you’ll be nearer than they are.

My sun at dusk…

And truer than any star can ever, ever be!

But for now,

Goodbye.

Nyagah.

The birth of my son

Notice how the bean is birthed

Just like our son,

From your egg and my sperm,

Under the warm sun,

When passionately

We make love.

At the height of our pleasure

We draw closer

And I send to you half of him

For you to tenderly nourish into a whole,

Our souls merged with an immense intensity

So as to form his,

Just like the pod burst and birthed its seeds,

We exploded and formed a living being.

He is young,

Clumsily walks and speaks,

He has your eyes and nose

And he has my cheeks.

He is your child,

He is my son.

And he is our seed.

Our little bean.

Nyagah

We talked, the rain and I.

It’s the drumming I love most;
When you hit the roof,
Your humming as you meet with
The eager ground.
Your lullaby is the only tune
That calms my insomniac mind
And so,
I dream that
The lonely clouds were crying
Because the night was too black
And cold and ghostly and…
There was no conscience in the world.

Or maybe,
The elements were caught up in passion
And so the rain was sperm
Coming down to fertilize the earth
And bring forth life
Living beings,
And those that are seemingly not living
Rocks and trees.

Then again maybe you’re just rain,
Falling down mundanely
Not speaking back to me
Just falling…
Perhaps that’s how you speak;
By falling and humming me into my dreams.

© Nyagah

my response

My response to your echoing silence,

When I shout love! love!

While in the canyon of your sweet memories

My response to the darkness,

When I seek a ray of your light

No matter how slight

As I stumble through this labyrinth called loneliness

My response to the pain,

Pain which no therapy can tame,

It refuses to be sunk by the storms of time

Pain which seems for ever mine

My response to the damaged,

The hearts I’ve injured as I rummage

In my quest to quell you, my obsession

And be complete once again

My response to my dead senses,

I am partially alive at best

I am vulnerable, defenseless, loveless

I am spent,

Partially alive at best

My response to the regret,

Of having let in an infatuation

A weakness

That sinks me slowly into the ground

Despite my protests

My response to the cold,

To the night

To the winter

To this freezer;

Called ‘what if?’

My response is this poem

This release…for a moment.

Room to breathe, live and look

Look into the mirror of life and laugh

Despite the tears and hurt….

Nyagah.

remember?

do you remember?

lying perfectly still

afloat in the river water.

do you remember the clouds that day?

and the wind’s whisper

that made your water drenched clothes sway.

do you remember the drifting leaves?

some in the air,

some in the water.

do you remember the peace?

and the whispering silence,

the cold of the river water

and the warm salvation from the sun.

the  dancing.

do you remember your hair dancing?

swinging and dancing in the water.

and the colours,

All of the univers’ colours

as they sarrounded your  dreamy eyes.

remember getting out of the water

and walking the short distance to your house

drenched, soaking wet

but feeling as good as hell

saved from the day’s stress.

nyagah

to walk the tightrope

what’s this freedom?

a slave is freed from his prison-

only to be forced to walk a tightrope;

that rope that bridges being alone and being un-alone.

To balance

lest he falls into never ending darkness,

after being alone in his cage for ages.

And so faced with such a predicament

what does he choose?

To be a prisoner to loneliness or

to eternally free fall into darkness or

or to walk the tightrope that always seems to lengthen.

Nyagah

her eyes

what can i say?
i look down
as if i forgot how to see
because my eyes feel tortured
when you look into me

you peep through my window
and you see my blushing soul
thats why i look down you see,
i feel exposed.

i sit and wonder
if you shall be forever mine…
and my smile that was,
fades and retracts
i look into your eyes;
your window
but i cannot see your soul
and when i ask
you only smile
and say “trust”

can i really trust your clay hands?
or will you break my heart.

all this feelings
expressed by my eyes
in just one glance…
but sadly,
you cannot read
the language of my eyes.

nyagah

Signature Walk

So he picked up his stuff and left you
Looked you in the eye and said he just didn’t like you anymore
Or left you a damn note
Sent you a damn message
Or worse still didn’t say a damn thing
He treated you waaaay bad;
Said he needed to get in touch with his mama over some stuff
Yet the records show that it was his ex
On your phone? on your airtime?
He didn’t even look at the gift you made him!
Your spend hours running the bad memories through your head
Cursing, swearing, vowing…
Well gurl, you gotta stop; there’s better things to do!!

Grab your purse and get your heels on
Wear that top that accentuates your figure
And go buy all the stuff you sacrificed to get him that gift
Hang with your galz, don’t diss them; they your galz
Work out if you do
And put that can of ice cream aside;
He’s not worth it
And when you meet him
Keep your anger at bay and remain the lady you’ve always been
Practice all these- they represent your signature walk
Which you should take to the literal
And don’t waste time thinking about him or what he did
Watching him drool will be the only thing worth your time.

You hear that he already has a girlfriend
And you realize that you haven’t moved on one bit;
You’re angry, can’t believe it
You feel cheated, taken for granted, short changed, robbed
Of what exactly you can’t quite figure out
You actually miss him; walk to and fro thinking of making that phone call
But you also want to look him in the face
And give him a damn good piece of you
You meet him and that awkward stare is still there;
You are not sure whether to say hi and stop for a bit of chit chat
Or to strut right past him
And do dat signature walk with your cute little booty
The choice is entirely yours
But whatever you do
Just make sure you don’t feel like an ass for it.

He apologizes and looks down anticipating your answer
You’re pulled back by what you might still feel for him and made to hesitate by realities
Worse still he apologizes
And all you hear is that damn note, that damn message or that damn silence
Take him back if you think he’ll do better
Or rub his shoulder and smile…and tell him that you moved on
And if you really did
Don’t go hating the rest of them
Or you gon be rich, hot, very single and extremely lonely
The secret lies in the signature walk;
Take great care of yourself
And a good man will come right along!

Still, you could grab your purse, get them heels on
Wear that top that accentuates your figure and head to his place;
May be he tripped a little- everybody makes mistakes anyway
So you go make him see it from your point of view
Let the anger out on him if you need to
And make him see that he hurt you
Kiss him and hold him tight-
Make it all feel as good as it used to and go on from there!
But don’t you let go of dat signature walk;
You did it for you, not for him or because of him
Whatever you two become don’t let him hurt you again
If he a good man then he won’t dare, at least not consciously.
Good girls do what they gotta do;
Good girls think about it, apologize if they were wrong, and claim what’s theirs…
Good girls then move on in whatever direction seems fit.

Jill Masanga