Letters to Marion (And the Coming Generations)

Buea Mountain

46 Letters to Marion (And the Coming Generations) waiting for a guest hoping to be a bride dreaming of a honeymoon till darkness veils the day and she searches in and out for a bed beneath a reckless drunken lout for exchange of amorous gifts of VDs and HIV-AIDS. To a Shy Lad Brave lad, be brave Dress not cowardice your grave Though the burning embers In your chest yearn for human lust Look deep in a lady’s craving eyes And climb to the world’s Imagined heights Or lose the succulent world for fright Brave lad, be brave… Clothe not youth your cowardice For if you do not spread out Your arms in quest You’d never know how rich or poor Are the harvests of your embrace. Buea Mountain Piercing into the sky’s heart The monstrous wall spreads Like a barricade Sinking into Limbe Sea Against the ugliness of the worlds 47 John Nkemngong Nkengasong The huge red sun Resting on its shoulders Waits for a red man’s sacrifice Under the stubborn showers With the blessing of the gods Or the milky clouds Watching from the giant’s peak Descend pitifully On the tired conurbation Of rusty corrugated sheets Of crude dark stark staring stones Of volcanic voluptuous vomit Of life imprisoned in the idea Of long abandoned dreams Of falsehoods and banalities Of bilingual brotherhood. The Beauty of Life If pain is the beauty of life Then men must adore For Joy is a dinosaur rare A painted thing An image in the clouds A wink of sleep If love be the beauty of life Then men must love pain For hatred abounds And love is hard to find If beauty is the object of life Then men must love death Because we live in death And die in life For Joy is a dinosaur rare. ...