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Monthly Archives: March 2012

We Are Fed up: God Bless Nigeria

God bless Nigeria!

Nigeria had just a hundred toxic problems now two gravy ones are born:

  • kidnapping from the southeast



  • bombing from the northern region



. No doubt, the politicians are its parents; HOW?

The trend of kidnapping in Nigeria date back to the days of oil money in the south then it was the foreigners. At this time, had Nigeria politics not been greedy and incompetent, kidnapping would have been over. This was the right time for amnesty not now when the damage has gone beyond imaginable doubt.

Later it drifted to the siblings of the eminent, most precisely those linked to politicians. And now; everybody, anybody, so long it breaths; guess it got a price tag.
Imagine akara and plantain sellers kidnapped. “Don’t pay any ransom, don’t pay report to the police” the minister of information and police LGI would announce. But how can one obey when their loved ones are in the jagged-knives of the hoodlums? Even these hoodlums camouflage as policemen during operation: Commissioner of police how tight is our security in the country, is it only meant to protect the politicians in convoy or assist these insatiable hoodlums?.

They are the voracious youths, the insatiable graduates, the unemployed, highly intelligent and greedy fellows. What if these ideas are put into positive effect in the Nigeria economy?
Now that the everyday songbirds have failed in the chorus “children are the leaders of tomorrow” because I still see those leaders before I was born leading and contesting, provide for the youths opportunities and militancy will fly.


Have you read the papers seen the news? They medley “bank rubbery in Ogun state, civil servant kidnapped in Imo-state, Riot christians and Muslims, church bomb-blast, boko-haram…. Bombblast.. bomb…, 11killed, 5 injured, over 300 dies, suspected Boko-haram terrorist“ where is he ” he escaped

Dear Mr. president; Dr. Goodluck Jonathan, God sits on his throne of power and leadership. With his crown on, a cap devil dare not instruct him on what to do. Read in-between lines. The politicians started it, politicians better end it. Nigerians are fed up!

The True Poesy

written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

Tales Of A Wife: Love Is A Baton Race

  • Walking by the bush part
    I saw a young lady
    Heads down; fixed rigidly at a spot
    Crying so bitterly
    That I almost joined
    With a cracking voice she sang….
  • “Nne’, my mother!!!
    Nne’ mamam’ oooo!!!
    You were right
    I never should have loved
    Nne’, mamam’ oooo
    Open show me the way back to the house”
  • Young lady pick yourself up
    We are all students in the art of love
    Learning from every fallen baton
    We hold or once held
    Breaking mama’s rule
    Could have been right
  • “Nne’, my mother!!!
    Nne’ mamam’ oooo!!!
    You were right
    I never should have loved
    Nne’, mamam’ oooo
    Open show me the way back to the house”
  • Young lady pick yourself up
    Never quit
    Leave this spot
    Make yourself available
    To those that
    Considers you indispensable
  • Like a baton race
    One don’t play the game solely
    The game of life
    Is the game of love
    Affectionate dies
    Admiration is born.
  • (C) 2012 The True Poesy

    written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

    Her Jewelry Box

    • Part 1

    For a pragmatic approach to measuring such greats
    It has a seven all stars rating
    The giver of hope, main cause of lovelorn
    She always smile with her teeth as white as snow
    Could it be her jewelries, blisses, and sinuous acts
    A stolen glance at her parcel is a starry-eyed
    Peace obtained: like bow against violin strings
    Twinkles and blinks like the stars in the sky
    I wonder if she is a fallen angel…
    An affection so conformed and tempting:
    She is as tempting as the box she beholds
    The autumnal colored jewelry box reflect her blonde hairs
    Pretty is she and the definition of what she wears.


    • Part 2

    So divine the multicolored anklets,
    Bracelets and bangles reflects the look of the angels
    It is a Justifiable Pride. Remember J

    Stacked in the boxes’ wooly holes;
    Fingers wish to be detained in the rings 
    It is enormously powerful. Remember E

    Assorted collections of the wristwatches
    With hindsight, the manufacturers wish they hadn’t sold it out.
    It is a wellspring of attraction. Remember A


    The glamour of the string African beads,
    Pearl necklaces, golden and silver charm bracelets;
    Saliva drops from  a wide-open mouth:  ’tis an extrovert. Remember E

    The beauty of the lockets,
    Medallion and pendant, blesses her neck.
    What a leviathan of abundant beauty. Remember L

    The hoop and clip-on earrings  
    Have a figure of the catamaran.
    It is Reliable. Remember R.


    The decoration of the brooch gives her a flaunting beauty;
    Yep!, I got a Y
    And she is her Jewelry box the definition of who she is.






    The True Poesy

    Heavenly haven

  • In the dog-days of summer
    The bogeyman is come
    The thunder keeps sticking
    Earth quaking is turning normal
    Cheering has turned camel
    Under its own steam, in problematic desert
    Problem had torn all hopes
    Destroying and vanishing all homes
    Boo… hoo…boo…hoo!
    Stop those tears and come into haven
    Not just haven but heavenly haven
    Come get a doleful experience of what they call home.
  • (C) 2009

    The True Poesy

    written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

    Grief behind the upper body

      Picture on the wall; majestically clad shining out like the Sun
      Wooden frame hung beside the broken mirror, smiling lively at sorrowful
      Unemotional even as the fury shear tears facing her shine
      Before first slanting, the big palm tree has just fallen.
      Now with woe, it stamps emptiness in the loveseat
      Stealing smile and leaving photo clips in the fury mind.
      Life has just turned an everyday eclipse
      Why has the gods so treasured you?
      Now haters has got what they requested
      Anguished, the dark cloud settled right over fury.
      Tears never go dry, why… why… why…

    (C) 2009
    the true poesy

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