by Kum Eric Tso
Image Design: Saint Ket Publishers
©2016 Kum Eric Tso
Published by Saint Ket Publishers
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©2016 Kum Eric Tso
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SAINT KET PUBLISHERS
DOUALA, CAMEROON
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
LAND OF PROMISE
FOUNDATION STONES FOR CHANGE
PERFECT POLITICIANS
NAKED WRITER
ELEVEN FEBRUARY
AFRICA
AFRICAN SUN
ALL NIGHT LONG
MY PRECIOUS QUEEN
SOLAR FORCE
LOVELY MOTHER
WHY DID YOU SAY GOODBYE?
IN LOVE
AFRICAN WOMAN
AFRICA MASSACRE
TRIBALISM
LET’S UNITE
ROSE
LONG TIME NO SEE
VOICE OF THE VOICELESS
CHANTAL BIYA
CAMEROON
THE POET
L’ANGE DE COMBAT
POETRY
LOVING OUR COUNTRY
MYRTLE
VOW TO MY HOMELAND
TAKE ME TO THE FERRY
STRANGE LOVE
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
THE HOLY HAND
ROSYBELLE
HELLO
LOVE IS WICKED
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
THE MOURNING ANCESTORS
FOOTBALL DANCE
RELIGIOUS SAFARI
DEATHLY CLAWS
CHRIST IN MY LIFE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
CONNECT WITH THE BORN TO REIGN GROUP
DEDICATION
To
Kum Victorine Naseh
&
Kum Justina Eghem.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This work would not have been possible without the help of the many people God has been bringing into my life. I may not be able to exhaust this list, but I want to specifically thank the following group of people.
I’m grateful to my family, especially my beloved brothers and lovely sisters for being there for me through the early but daring moments of my career.
I also thank God for raising me from a genealogy of spiritual giants and for inspiring me through the many leaders who have lit the path and set the pace for young talents like me to emerge.
I’m equally grateful to my friends, partners, staff and all those who spend an ounce of their time and money throughout the world to promote or participate in everything I stand for.
Finally, thank you for purchasing this book and joining millions across the world who think we can make this world a better place for all. I’m thankful to all my readers for their constructive criticism especially through social media. I’m always very excited to hear from you anytime any day.
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LAND OF PROMISE
FOUNDATION STONES FOR CHANGE
Like a saint, I did purge
My imagination from God
As my heart and mind did urge
My fingers to write on the mud
For all to hear and glare
At what my eyes did spy
When my thoughts got the flare
Of that heart-piercing cry,
From my people, for my people;
I did find the hands of pain
Breaking every soul into a bleeding cripple
And my nation’s snow face was all stained,
And there was need for change:
It was the gravity of that rash
Spreading like wild fire in a wide range
And never did I feel any crash
From the coffins of dark democracy
Since God was on my people’s side.
I saw the sprinkles of democracy
Bathing our land, new and pure for all to glide.
And behold, the foundation stones
For change were plunged deep and tight
And stiff and strong were my bones
To endure the plight of this fight.
Before my prologue was through
God did touch my heart again
And indeed I felt the breakthrough
Foundation stones falling like heavenly grain...
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PERFECT POLITICIANS
They look like saints
Patriotic faces
At all phases
Always looking innocent
But when elections come
They rig
They kill
They steal
They loot
They rape
Our country’s progress
They look like worker ants
Of success
In the press
Always looking triumphant
But when elections come
They rig
They kill
They steal
They loot
They rape
Our country’s progress.
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NAKED WRITER
After a weighty-healthy meal,
He trots through the streets
Counting the ribs of hungry men;
He covers his nostrils with cotton
Upon entering the rotten corners
Where the poor gamble with stench;
He spits on shaggy-tattered beggars
Or wounded men leaping through the market;
He covers his ears with new banknotes
Upon hearing crying voices across the road.
At night, he dines with the uniform men
Gasping the fresh scent
Of imported perfume.
He sings lovely carols and writes of lilies and roses.
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ELEVEN FEBRUARY
Do you see those hungry faces
With cracked lips and swollen eyes
Marching in staggering paces?
The fresh air of the sky dies
As their feet wrestle with the dust fleet
In the tchaka dance for their home land;
Their tearful eyes wish to split
As they chant at their sleeping-land
To arise and behold its course
Of change for the youths to dwell
In true peace and glide at the rose
Where all shall be well.
Do you see those huge men resenting their breath?
They have lost their sense of truth.
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AFRICA
I think only of thee
When the shadows come
For thy aroma of stew to stare;
When the moon mourns
For thy drums to feast;
When the heavens hum
For thy rains to roll;
When the winds wail
For thy wings to wave
At the snoring sea;
When the time tolls
For thy cocks to crow;
And when the sun shines
For thy ever fresh fields to feast.
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AFRICAN SUN
You stand there,
All alone-there
Bleak and weak
As your bones break
In fading praises
<
br /> From dying voices
All in the name
Of foreign fame.
They now savour
Foreign flavour
Instead of delicious, tasty
‘Fufu corn and Kati Kati’.
Who lulled you to sleep?
You must wake by my weep!
O African sun,
Arise from that dark horizon.
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ALL NIGHT LONG
Behold, the lord appeared by her bedside
With glowing light and asked:
“Why do you sob
All night long
Trampling your pillow
In a sea
Of uncontrollable tears?”
The weary-hearted African woman
Answered and said:
“I sob for I’ve sinned,
I’ve insulted thy image
(Thy magnificent image)
By changing my colour
From black to red.
“O lord forgive me
All my sins
For they surpass the limit.
They are a needle
Piercing thy heart.”
The lord’s voice echoed from a roar
In the mist of a cloud in the sky:
“Forgiven is he
Who confesses his sins
With the tongue,
Blessed is he
Who goes and sins no more.”
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MY PRECIOUS QUEEN
You stand there – high
Like a king in the sky
For thy garment suits thee so well
And for all times, “ton nom est belle”.
You give energy to wheat
And serve the world with heat
For thy elegance suits thee so well
And for all times “tu es belle”.
You drive scientist crazy
And your warmth is so friendzy
For thy smile suits thee so well
And for all times “la vie est belle”.
I wish to meet thee up thy bed
But make sure I’m not death.
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SOLAR FORCE
The back bone of African evolution
Lies in the solar force:
A weight that can pull down countless patriots
They call it the president,
Commander in chief of the armed forces,
A gun man,
The sole executive curator,
Chief of chiefs,
Secretary General of unknown affairs,
And even financial overall of state funerals.
Such a fatal force owned by gods
And only gods alone.
A force that sets cars galloping on a smooth road
Now entrusted onto one person. What a strong drink?
He now carries such a heavy load alone in groan
With no shame nor regret, but greed.
How great he is!
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LOVELY MOTHER
Your scent, touch, words and way
Made you a true mother
For you lived for your children.
When I was young, your warmth
Made me a chick in his nest:
You petted but corrected me when I went wrong.
I shed a tear and my heart shears
Any time I remember your gentle smile:
A smile that moved miles;
Your love shoved me into joy
Like a sinner from hell to heaven:
I could dwell and swell when you were there.
While others let theirs grow wild,
You moulded me up into a perfect gentleman;
A huge pang of flesh was cut-off from my body
On the day the cold hands of death strangled you.
O sweet mother! I love you more… and more
For you taught me true love.
I called you Naseh as you called me Tso
For mama and son were too formal
For such a loving pair.
May your gentle soul rest
In perfect peace
Though our love’ll never rest.
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WHY DID YOU SAY GOODBYE?
Never did I have
A say
When you waved
Goodbye to our stay
(Saying it was over)
Never did you know
How much we’d rovered
In the snow
Like our son’s bear
(Swimming in honey)
Never did we spare
Lavishing money
Dancing makossa
(Sharing smacks of love)
But why did you say goodbye Massa
Without thinking of our love?
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IN LOVE
We navigated on the sea of love
Like unscrupulous pirates:
Eye-in-eye, mouth-to-mouth
We were
In the little boat
With a moonlight candle.
Then, God saw it all illegal
For we were in the dark
When His light smiled;
The lord touched our souls
Like a wind blowing a fowl’s bottom
And we perceived light.
Accepting for better,
For worse
Was just a child’s play
For you loved me
As I loved you.
Our passions became holy!
In the morning, I saw love;
In the afternoon, I felt love;
In the evening, I touched love.
How I wish to ride with you forever
In this holy sensation of romance…
Till death binds our souls in paradise.
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AFRICAN WOMAN
Her black complexion remains her symbol of beauty
As jolly as a real, real red rose.
Her elegance and intelligence makes her a symbol of love
For her soft succulent body leaves men crazy
As she moves majestically shaking her wonderful bottom.
Such a pretty mermaid princess!
On her lies the fate of Africa through hard work
Comfort, humility, honour and thus prosperity is assured.
Modesty and prestige were bestowed onto her
By the almighty who alone knows why she is so special.
Such a unique creation, so perfect in appearance
Though one can never tell the interior of all.
O African woman! Not of any equivalence nor comparison;
Symbol of courage and hope!
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AFRICA MASSACRE
O comrades! My dear African brethren!
Clashing claws everyday does our land drain
Trampling good spirits in an obscure stay
As we pull our bows of hate everyday
Lulling low our spirits of brother-love
In the cunning face of the foreign clove
We do breed greedy and corrupt feelings
Let’s no more massacre our land’s feelings
But stand as one to think as does the dove
With golden hearts glowing of that pure love
For the land on which we stay and do pray
Is called mama Africa with her gay
Look of hospitality and fresh grain
O comrades! Why do we Africa drain?
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TRIBALISM
I loaded my bazooka
Sniffed for him about the air
And went searching through the lair
As explained by the busker
But beheld his foot path not
I peeped through the filled alley
And hurried down the valley
But beheld his foot path not
I reckoned the Holy See
Rocketed up the hills high
And prayed to God i
n the sky
Looked down the glass of the sea:
He had been right behind me
He had been right behind me.
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LET’S UNITE
Let’s blend the strength of our wit
And make our land filled with wheat
But brew not all into wine
For the forth coming generation to dine;
Let’s plough not arms at ourselves
Else we’ll destroy the shelves
That behold the foundation stones
Of our nation’s bones;
Let’s strive not for today’s food
But for tomorrow to be good;
Let’s be as strong as the flail
For our effort never deemed frail
In the face of our fatherland
When invited is the lord’s hand.
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ROSE
Unlike all other flowers, a fair rose she was:
A soft, bright fairy glittering like diamond;
She was gold in human form;
So juicy and pretty;
So elegant and pleasant;
So fresh as ice cream;
And well shaped like a Spanish guitar.
In a rhythmic mood she moved
For her steps came from the spheres of beauty
In an elegantly fitting dress
That made her bottom swirling majestically.
Mouths were filled with saliva
And minds fuelled with amazing lies
As the men’s appetite was wetted
To capture and nurture the rose’s heart.
Some courageous men made their way
To and fro Jerusalem with great success
Hitting their chest to have touched gold.
Then, regretted gravely too late like Hewett
For the gentle medical screening
Revealed the presence of the hawk-lion ghoul:
HIV and AIDS.
Beware for all that glitter is not gold!
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LONG TIME NO SEE
On a smooth lawn in a garden of misery
Wearing a cold face of nostalgia
(Not knowing who deserved “good morning”
Or “to hell with your dreadful policies”),
I wandered after a fruitless prayer
Fuelled by Igbo domination and British neglect.
Firm, I stood and resolved to fight for liberation
Without knowing which way to follow.
Then of no coincidence, I tumbled on Ahidjo, my brother:
“Hey, Foncha! Long time no see!’’
He said confidently in a loud voice
For he was the Godfather of la Republique.
Grieved with joy, we ran into each other
And resolved never to part, but to be each other’s keeper.
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VOICE OF THE VOICELESS
It’s most certain of calamities
That our society suffers a demise of beauty with diseases
Like corruption, unemployment and bitter poverty
In this state of most dubious fraudulency
Of no fair and transparent elections
Where democracy is rode by the military
Of unscrupulous vacuums as politicians.
We now live in a trance of chilling panic
Not knowing who’ll die next.
carrots and sticks now work hand-in-glove everyday
Instead of a true democratic government
Where the masses: the majority
Have a say in their stay.
“We need a humble leader full of courage and stamina
And not a power drunk stooge.”
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CHANTAL BIYA
What thinkest my soul
Of this tonsured land
Than thy palpable hand?
Thy heart that fights the ghoul
That scares the downtrodden;
Removes the vulnerable’s load
And in the old, injects fresh blood
Taking away their huge burden.
Thy gruelling-gruff silences hubbubs
Bringing forth fresh olive dew
And the dream of a land pure:
A brightened glow over the dark suburbs.
To suffering, thee say ‘cheerio!’
To diseases, thee say ‘cheerio!’
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CAMEROON
Popular unique diverse scenery,
Well adorned with beads of beauty
Rich in nature like in culture
Intensified are thy raids torture
Taming down the trees of corruption
Yawning loud like sick a nation
And we all know thy harmony
Nourishing all tribes with honey
Drained in joy like in sorrow
Pulling all to sleep as the drums bellow
Entering the mountains up high
And beholding the call of thy eye
Craving across the peaceful sheep
Ever since you lulled us to sleep.
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THE POET
Like all builders do know
To be told by the old
I behold in elbow,
But for the young, I fold
My tools in peace and pray
For all the strength from God
For my soul be not prey
As I do step on board
With the eyes of poetry
Peeping through a blue pen
That flows with the mastery
Of the fingers that spend
For all to prostrate straight
For God to bless our state.
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L’ANGE DE COMBAT
You grant power to the greatest authority
But can trample on kings
Through impeachment;
Your paces can crush million lives
With just mare traces on paper.
Your impact in presidential decrees
Sets the society into gallops.
So you'll be my angel of war.
It only suffices your rolling on paper
For you’re a super legend.
Everything shall somersault;
Your scraping shall cleanse this sick society
Infested by greed, blended by imbecility;
The embezzlers shall feel your mortal breeze
And even corrupt and tyrannical fellows shall bow.
Your claw shall cut the rope
On innocent peoples’ neck.
Your wisdom shall then breed
Patriotic fellows of good will
To amend this battle to an expected end.
Oh! My momma of everything!
You give me reason to all
Especially when you shoot troubles.
With all your valour and bravado,
Men just call you ‘pen’.
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POETRY
The genre that changes water to wine
Through the spontaneous overflow
Of emotional language groomed mathematically
To suit its role in the society;
A fierce bulldog unleashed
To scare away the world's dark memoirs
And cleanse the entire land
By uplifting ideas of good will to eminence;
A patterned and orderly way of life
Where even bended trees become erect
And withered plants freshen
With just its manifestation.
Patriotic poets call it:
‘The divine tool for an ideal society.’
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LOVING OUR COUNTRY
If this be the thread of a love play,
Let’s knit it tightly so fitting that the flare
Does erupt as molten lava in display
For all men to glare
At the essence of love
As the eyes
of our heart do blend
At the world’s narrow clove
And the adventures of this beautiful den.
Be not in a hurry
To the land of straw berry
Else you’ll never arrive
At the mysteries of good life
I’ll say no more of the excess
For my words trot in the soul of my princess.
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MYRTLE
You trot in my garden
With charms splashy-golden
In the green flavoured range
That never knows of change.
Are your wonderful leaves
From fresh dewy olives?
Does your ever cool smile
Travel through my sole mile?
Why? Flowers by my grange
See your so-sweet melange,
O sweet lovely myrtle,
With bleak jealous rattle.
Yet, you remain the food
And fuel of my manhood.
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VOW TO MY HOMELAND
If death
Be my breath
For I speak the truth
May I die a proud myth
For all to savour the mirth
In my strength.
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TAKE ME TO THE FERRY
‘‘O sweet lovely fairy
Of truth, ride me to the ferry
That’ll put my soul aboard
And sail countless miles to the lord.’’
I did tell the book of life in worry
‘‘Behold my thoughts with wisdom
And let them sound like a drum
For the old and young to dance
As their lives do trot and bounce.’’
I did seek from God’s kingdom
‘‘Give me not as I wish
But as wills the wish
Of thy might of calm and thunder,
O Almighty creator of wonder!’’
And that was my last wish.
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STRANGE LOVE
Kain: Be not to me a snare
Nor do behold me scared;
Nor mourn over my wife
Gone in that unknown life.
Nain: Baffle me not with word
For you are my sole lord.
Palpate not my heart’s drum
Nor let our love a-gloom.
Kain: My fortune is all gone
And my household all gone:
Why do you feel this love
When lonely is my clove?
Nain: Your ways of heart plunder
Through my soul like wonder.
I doubt if I can live
Without you, my olive!
Kain: If God made you the flare
For me to love and glare
In sorrow like in joy
Let’s do not that destroy.
Nain: You are now old and poor,
Your home is dead and poor
But love is never few
So let’s love and feel new.
Kain: My eyes do behold feast
For I won’t see that beast
Called hate in this love bay,
Not again shall we sway.
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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Those who knew him
Said he was that pure
Genius that made life new
Even from the sphere dim.
Those good writers did hold
To us all his works as great
With no thought of regret,
Even from those manuscripts old!
Centuries have bowed to the ink
Of those great, great poems
And plays of such heroic rhymes.
Even the men of mirth did sink!
No one could dare spare
Trotting through those lines
As they were ancient sweet vines.
Even its purity pulled the sphere!
He was great and wrote great
Of the great souls he knew
But no man can boast he knew
Even his birthday, for it needed a soul great.
At times I wish to bid inspiration
By calling him ‘Willy’
But think only of a willy
Even as he bore inspiration!
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THE HOLY HAND
The power of God
Dragged me from the mud,
Pulled me from the trench
Of sorrow, of stench
In great days of old
And did roar: ‘‘behold
Of inspiration
In every nation.
Create for all to read’’
And it was my bread
In dusk like in dawn
To write for all men.
Writing was as sweet
As Solomon’s wit.
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ROSYBELLE
The glory of life lies in great deeds
As the backbone of love lies in beauty.
But he who searches without finding
Ends up finding without searching.
After a feverish fruitless search, I tumbled on a sweet lady
A demoiselle full of the varieties that rumble men’s hearts.
O yes! A soft succulent fragrant rose with a heart
As gentle as that of Jehovah God.
A lofty speech, she possessed, full of saga
Like a dagger that pierced open my heart
Letting the fresh dew of love to water my mind
Through the most nurturing manner in an irresistible smack.
I shivered like a weaver beaten by rain and said
“I love you… Rosybelle”
As her hairy skin set a tickling current flow through my body
Awaking nostalgic thoughts of love.
Like a woodpecker on a tree’s back,
She killed my senses with exuberant magical caresses
And kisses sounding so loud that I felt like a bee
In a thrilling emotion with nectar.
Never had I gone on such a romantic ride before
A physical and psychological sensation
Of tremolo feelings groomed to purity
By the ultimate power of beauty.
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HELLO
Hello!
Hello!
I quit my pillow
When I hear that bellow
I wonder what can bellow
Like a young swallow
Through my window
Above my shadow!
Is it the gentle rainbow?
What romantic a mellow?
My TV says it’s Hello!
And that’s just a lovely bellow;
I rush and feel the sweet hello bellow
And in joy, I say “bravo Hello!”
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LOVE IS WICKED
A new dawn smiled-low and slow
In her gentle pretty blue eyes
As the power of sweet music flew
Loud-through our love like a spice
As the day staggered forth with fat
Surprises twinkling my heart with joy
As I felt like a rat in an utopia of no cat
As free as a glittering toy.
At the scorn of nightfall, I sobbed like a wingless fly
Caught in the scum of the sky
For on her bay had she gone-so rare
Like a missing crown of an heir.
Everyday, I wander in tears crying ‘come back Mariana’
For love is wicked without my Madonna.
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LOVE CONQUERS ALL
She wore a melancholic frown
On her ever great face bath brown
By dusty springs of dust on air.
As beautiful as a rose she was, for the fair
Skin became more pleasant
In her gown that remained ever elegant.
I must confess, she preferr
ed hell
To the bitter scum of hail
For when it showered muggy,
Every footpath became muddy.
She tiptoed and shook with jittery
Like the poor pale peasant infested by misery.
Yet, no one could dare her beauty
For she was the real definition of the word pretty
Médiatisée par sa jolie démarche.
She had the honour of a perfect match
With the greatest prince in the universe,
One that could own countless fortune and still invest.
“I wish I had the beauty of seasons
By my side to lavish this flourish season”.
The poor pale peasant cried in his idle site
For life without love is like suicide
And dying for love isn’t easy, though
It’s a sign of bravado
Knock and it shall be opened,
Ask and it shall be given
The poor lover thought and dove
To amend his faith in love and shove
The princess’ love far fetched
And luckily, the princess too had searched.
Kings thought it folly
Seeing the dame jolly
In the poor man’s arms
And wished it were their arms.
It was a shame for she was dignity
And the purity of royalty.
But, she felt the poor man’s love
As she had wandered all her life for mare love
And nothing could so well blend her history
Than love’s mystery:
It never lets true lovers fall
For love conquers all.
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THE MOURNING ANCESTORS
The chief priest advanced in sacred robes adorned with cowries
And skins of lion and tiger
Chanting and pouring libation.
The sad crowd stood all ears:
“Gods of our ancestors! Awake!
Here is a cock, kolanuts and a jug of palm wine,
Though our sacrifices are more of hearts”.
The mouthpiece suddenly tore the ground
With a spear, grunting and sniffing danger.
Then, instead of breaking the alarming coldness of fear, he said:
“Too bad!”
Killing every native as he added,
“Even the gods too do mourn”
He saw a bleak-black presence of the gods:
Gravely disappointed souls casting their faces to the ground.
In grotesque black robes with pitchless voices;
Sleepy and staggering bodies in despair
As weary as dying drunkards staring with faintly eyes
As smoke glowed from their gray hairs;
Smudgy sweat peeled-off their faces as they spoke:
“We treaded in the hot fire of unspeakable torture
Enduring the heart-piercing pains of mortal sacrifices
For the liberation of this land……. Our enemies laugh at us
For what was denied kings is now being torn by dogs
(Called our sons) in the streets into pieces.”
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FOOTBALL DANCE
Far from being reality, but very true!
In a famous orange arena
Sweats dangly legs flopping gigantically
With fighting muscles pulled to limit.
Winding right and round
On the gentle motion ball
Timed by a steady defender in concentration
Like a cat on the rat’s track.
Winding right and round again
Goes the stiff dancing legs
Like a bikutsi dancer
Caught in the thrilling sensational merengué.
Winding left, then round and round
With a full maitrise of the brain
Glittering through calculating eyes.
Then, a swift swing of passément des jambes…
The defender goes flat to the ground
Creeping like a baby in front of Ronaldinho.
Ha! Ha! Ha! The crowed is relieved
For the spectacle is just spectacular.
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RELIGIOUS SAFARI
Once upon a time,
Preachers stormed a street
In a sporadic speed
Near the maritime.
They did preach
To the poor
And did pour
Praises on to the rich.
The poor did become poorer
And stroke with tears
Whilst the rich got fears
As they grew richer.
Was it the will of God
For the preachers
To grow richer and richer
From the poor that toil in mud?
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DEATHLY CLAWS
They swagger with daggers
Testifying of the flood of human blood
Like devoted monks in devotion
‘‘Do what we do, not what we say!’’
With no name of shame, but fame
In chest-swording with zest
Since few people due their view
For not only innocent people but saints die
‘‘Inch alla!’’ They’ll boast for alla
‘‘It’s a mare holy snare for snails.’’
For sure, barren is he who stains for grain
But brave is he whose grave comes with rain.
The most constant range in life is change
But when shall al-quaeda take a mall?
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CHRIST IN MY LIFE
From the first day
I met Jesus,
My life changed as I fell in love
With the memoir of his resurrection
That drove away darkness from my life
Bringing the fresh beauty of light
Even to my darkest nightmare.
Any time an obstacle came,
I saw the hand of God
In my life
And was swiftly moved
To victory;
He rumbled my heart with joy
By filling my soul with anointing.
He is like a rainbow-rose
That brings colour to my day
Men say they have found something sweet
In this evil world
But I bet you, I’ve found the sweetest.
For sure, the sweetest of the sweetest
Is Jesus Christ.
Far far away
People search Christ
Like gold
When He’s just within
As love.
Try him for He’s the way of truth,
And nothingness becomes everything in His presence.
Go back to the top.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
