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Yearly Archives: 2013

Tales Of A Wife: First Daughter Of A King (Adaobi)

She’s fair and tagged yellow paw-paw
She has got this spark of the smiling sun
If you aren’t a Pope please pile your eyes
With the way she poses, she isn’t a slip-up
Indeed there is no other name to reveal
She is that love note of no oppose
A conviction for the power of gorgeousness
Beating deep within somewhere at the front of the back.
Succulent like cucumber between the moving jaws
She sends men fishing like the tribe of Ijaw
Mummy’s baby, Daddy’s daughter
The beautiful Aniocha child
First daughter of a King – Adaobi
Every lip confesses.

Last Designation: Chola

If you’ve known her when she was four,
The sound you hear from the floor,
Shouldn’t surprise you even as you fall…
I think I was ten then but believe me you
Steve Wonder would
See the loveliness in this sister named a star…

Don’t Call Me Mad : Who am I?

Most days I feel
I am the
Only one on
The hot seat
And Judges
Throwing back
To me a Flashback
Of the life
While I live.

Dark as a coal
If an angel could
Curiously
I am but human
Most days I feel
I am the
Only one on
Alive alongside
Digital images.

But what if ’tis true?
Most days I wonder
Has He ever
Been called her?
Eagle displaces a dove
But the beauty of the globe
Created by him above
Painted them black in gold
By its tar tempting stove.

Aside faith be empirical
Can a religious leader
Say the true religion?
Hey! preacher
Don’t take my hard earn kobo
As a trickier
To become a naira richer
“You blasphemy” !!
Sharap! I politely tell back

I only wish I could
Fake a smile
I just hope
Mother earth
Isn’t messing with me
As an experimental material
While finding
the best human
For earth.

Most days I feel
I’m not me you know,
This body I dwell
Doesn’t have no say
But I wish I could
Jump-off and stare
Without a slant
It’s ways, for
I don’t know- Who I am.

Don’t Call Me Mad : Unanswered

Most days I feel
Like I am
I
Moving and breathing
But high
Eating and growing
Seeing not my eye
Talking words that don’t rewind
We all do.

While trying to find out
Certain answers to
Certain questions
In my front of my thought
It seems as tho’
I’m bout’ to breach a code
God’s very own
Who am I?
Most days I feel

’tis like identifying my shadow
In midst of the dark
Who made me
Who is who
That made who
That made who…
What an exponential question
Ha!; don’t call me mad
Whenever I scream

Don’t Call Me Mad : Drunk in Faith

Some days I wish I could
Trans-migrate my soul
Where exactly to port
That I don’t know
Well;
I can explain what I feel
But dare not ask
Because I can’t; only to myself.

Lager Out! Life
Life life
Is it intriguing
Going
Around cycles
Psyching
Brains
’tisn’t bored there

Yet
You don’t wish
To go to
That place
You so
Preach about
When death announces
When to visit.

Sometimes I feel
Small animals
Consider us gods
Whereas we
Are not and
Don’t know
Who he is
Sometimes I feel like

Screaming all day
Lemme just enjoy
’tis liquor; Palm-wine
Greet me, shall share
But call not my Ozu, “sap”
Or me bad
For I’m only drinking that
God has created.

Ode Of Mandela : Can’t Bid a Farewell to Mandela

Tracing the well-head,
Why say
He fought for just the black;
Wasn’t his lessons adopted
And embraced by the whites?
An irony in a name
This Ro-lih-lah-la isn’t a troublemaker.

From him one may say:
“May my days be rough.”
Started from Mvezo
To the globe,
Staggered to hell
And strolled majestically out
Activated like a free radical.

Presidency, the first black
In the south
Front man
In a fight
Freeing the black hide
Of ancestry Africa
Nelson Mandela ! A name even the dummy speaks.

Equality! Equality! Equality
He calls us
In a chorus
Springing up anew
Patiently and prophetically
To Diops visionary
Of “Africa”: my Africa.

Looking through the window
Indeed Africa has become a widow
Mandela
“A man of the People”
Chinue Achebe would say
If death didn’t kick him
As well by the tail.

The world’s so frosty
Your name is what no man can oust,
That I boast
Down the coast
Up, east to west.
Immortality not our host
Tata really gave up the ghost.

The world weeps
Mandela is more handsome
Than a first love,
More radical than the fierce
More vibrant than the press
Tata’s larger than the whale
Mums kids unborn knows.

He is powerful
Yet more peaceful
Than the middle-east,
He has this ideas
Of such innocence
Meant forever
On a library shelf.

Tell me
What’s the essence
Life of senescence
Does it really make sense
If I say adios
When
Mandela is forever alive.

Unintentional Existence: He is late

When the moment comes in
Waypoint, rigor-mortis sets in.
War-child tell me, in life’s inn
What did you do therein or within?

Nah! Just wish I were young forever;
Negligible senescence stinks,
Never cry over a spilled milk
Never do! It was meant to be.

Let my candles burnout
Let not my memories fade away
Lager-out mood they would say
“La-di-da! never die like I did”.

Obviously, ’tis a long journey to make
O Lord kindly open the golden gate
I’m right on-time spy through my faith
It’s my fate not a piece of cake.

Lurcher save the tinsels don’t Wolf-cry,
Let’s be frank even as you kiss and tell
Indeed to death, debtors we are
It’s imperative and a price we must pay

Farewell, life isn’t an imperfect-competition
Infants will still come in.. but,
For real; when he is late, he wouldn’t know
If he is dead or even existed.

By ONYECHE VINCENT ONYEKA

Don’t Call Me Mad: A Sonnet of good

When true love turns impossible
And wants to wait much longer
Simply go into cryptobiosis
Wait for love as long as it takes.
If it resist still, such sincere attention
Like the snails’ eye cuts off
Persistent attention shall re-grow.

If to be good on planet earth
Becomes negligibly senescent
Shall put a sincere kindness
In state of suspended animation
Wake it up in November
When and if
The world ever needs such good.

Tales Of A Wife: Efik Virgin

  • Have you seen
    The Efik virgin of Akwa Ibom?
    That got me screaming
    ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ !!!
  • She walks in beauty
    Like a goddess
    Of River Qua Iboe
    Pure and harmless
    Like fire-flies
    When she smiles
    ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ
    I scream
  • Something to die for
    Call me an unwise trader,
    Hey mr. soldier
    Her bullets for her offences I’ll trade
  • She’s so bright,
    You might need a shade
    She’s always frightened
    By a mere handshake
    She’s that wish
    To always make
    Tasty as cake
    I’ll always take
    Other than her
    Is but a fake
    Definitely
    The only fish in a lake
  • If she loves you,
    ’tis a love more than love
    Funny, her cologne
    Makes a dead man inhale
    She has this power
    Of saints and sinners
    ‎Jesus proud,
    Saying ‘I made her so’
  • Not just a virgin
    Did I mention she’s…….
    An African Aphrodite
    Dark and sweet
    Pretty and perfect:
    Her front and behind
    So irresistible,
    Shall be a sinner:
    A temptation to commit
    Let heavens fall:
    ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ ♍Ɣ!! I scream,
    In a nut shell, she’s but poetic…

    By Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

    Unintentional Existence: Life is but a vial

    Life is so fast running
    And short as an afternoon.
    I shall so miss earth
    Whэnever I give-up the ghost.
    The true villages,
    Technologies, beautiful cities
    Foods and fruits
    Hot Ladies and romance
    Cold Beer for fun
    Music and dance
    My family and friends
    I shall so miss earth ωhэn am gone.

      Єνєяу stage on earth
      Is a challenge
      One after another
      The struggle continues
      Jealousy is inherent
      Hatred is born
      Love is alive
      But never comes easy
      Wishes are dreams
      Dreams are not wishes
      I seize to wish
      But get hold of the small bottle
      Before someone breaks it
      Mehn!! “fuck it”

        Babies yesterday,
        Grandparents today
        Patiently microbes wait
        For ℓιƒє is but a vial

        By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

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