e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

Home » 2014 » June (Page 2)

Monthly Archives: June 2014

Don’t Call Me Mad: Genesis of doubt

I’m just a thinking man in flesh
Searching for something spiritual
Often mistaken;
Cause my quotes are bad
The bible guides, I shouldn’t add

I’m a man of flesh
A true descendant of mum and dad
Who happened to appear
Out of the blue like Enos mum
Who must have fathered her?

Pope please don’t rebuke me
As I seek to find
The genesis of doubt for
If Eve was the first lady on earth
Where did Cain find his wife?

Adam’s Story: Aprons

Even before He showed me
The fowls in the sky
The inner me could fly
To communicate with Him.

I ate freely in the garden of Eden
There was a tree,
Tall or short it doesn’t mater
But I rather

Not say I hate
Not having the right to pick
Nor be on the rock to say I ate
Fruit from the knowledge tree of life.

The knowledge tree of life
So seriously attractive, I can’t say
But the day I shall eat of it
Surely, I shall die: so He says.

He is my father
Earthy and heavenly
Why on Eden should I be disobedient
To Him that made me in his own image,

The Knowledge tree never warned me
That sooner or late
I would be beneath it searching for needs
A fig leaf to use as apron.

Tales Of A Wife: Elope

He is the smartest guy in town
Always cosy in actions and words
Loves everything in heels and skirt
So long the pretty is a love to hunt

An angel so handsome and caring
Hi… he calls out and they all reply
First let’s be friends
Then the love fly out

This guy gives the comfort
Dizzy does when it rains
To his beholder he is
But the question still remains

Liking things young for his age
Clean, sexy, fresh; last dance he saves
He digs, he picks and earns
But when will he pop the question?

Their hots getting cooler
The mister elopes
Women are not men,
Holding at the short end of the stick,

Who time made faithful to religion,
kneels on sands, praying day and night;
The monthly bleeding of unused reds
Don’t wash off the sandy clock of life.

Cock: Chibok

Is she fading so soon
Like the ripples of the river nile?
Arrh!
Just a schoolgirl young pretty thing
Studying at a spot on the map of her destiny
Advocate of true law but the fingers of injustice
Forcefully grabbed, adopted and ridicule her.

In the forest of her very mother land
On her hands
She’s carrying crosses of gamely sorrows
No one could buy for any kilo or kobo
Cock! set her free, let her go!!!
To her wiping parents who has lost hope.
The whole life ahead of her
You’ve held by a timely bomb.

Is she fading so soon
Like the ripples on river nun?
Oh!
Her feet are worn
As she Journeys through bushes
Bruised and abused
She hopes she’s still alive
Making loud painful cry.

Last Designation: Family Man

Sometimes he wish he could diffuse
And be everywhere at same time
So he keeps embarking on a trip
An endless trip for an ultimate search
Good life, a wife and knife
To slaughter and kill for his child.

Too foolish to rest all day
He has got to cast a net
My knife here, my wife there
My wife this, my wife that
He recites
Up and down with his knife.

Out, to solve the puzzle of life
At the back of the cab
He sits a gape: starring
At the fast free hippie world
‘Am I in charge or in chains’ ?
‘Family man’; his pocket replies.

Such a beautiful thing to be god
Creating a life of his like,
He called a child by a name
An updated task for his knife
First a wife now another child
He is a family man please don’t ask.

Before child, he was too young to die
After the child
‘I haven’t trained my kids’: he says
First to leave; the last to return
He is a family man,
Let him continue the hunt.

Tales Of A Wife: Never Let Her Out

She’s not fair yet she sparks
Everything she is, high is ranked
The sun follows her, high
And she reflect back the light
If she let’s you in never let her out.

Good girls are difficult to come by
She’s not just rare but unique
Well educated, groomed and trained
Speaks polish, works brave and thinks smart
If she let’s you in never let her out.

Tales Of A Wife: I alone

Her name is not for public display
Her figure and shape I rather not say
If you where I
Insecurity is a challenge for the eye
All that I pray
Is a walk down the aisle
She and I to become I alone.

Tales Of A Wife: Native Of My Dream

Whatever she’s named at birth
I don’t care
Boo boo I call her
Now to forever more
And back to she was born.

I am in love
With a native of my dream
Would have replayed her
If I recorded when she said
A’fum gi’nanya in classic.

There’s this look in her gaze
There’s this music in her voice
And the way she smiles
Deserve an unending vocabulary
That everyone suspects me mentally

I am in love
Please don’t say I am mad
If Boo boo invades you:
Never you call it a burglary
Her love is my daily salary.

She overrides all; she’s the first
If wishes be made she will be
My last designation
Quite personal so emotional
Compelled by love to love me na na

A’nam a’su lies to you
I love you I love you
I love you boo boo!!!
A’fum gi’nanya
You are the native of my dream.

Adam’s Story: 9,30 (Death2)

Death!
More cruel
And heartless than Cain.

O yes to me it came
And me it flogged
At an age

Old Adam of 930 caps
At this time
E’noch could not be found

Thirty-nine on my top:
Methuselah a boy of my cord
Humbly broke my record

The devil may be wiser
But my seed lived longer
I know my cord.

After Noah died in genesis
Under same chapter
I waited for the next verse

9:30
But it never came, my son
What’s wrong with your generation?

I wish;
The difficult pill to swallow now
Never passed my throat

I would have written
A secret of long life
On Proverb 9:30.

Adam’s Story: 9,30 (Death1)

The devil may be older
But my generation is far stronger
I know my cord!!!

Far before Abraham
And the you, you are now
Every masquerade died a donkey age

I was indeed a man in His sight
At my time, the atmosphere was pure
Until the light became lighter and blur

I seek to secure my soul
But the fact is, I wish I could fight
To stay behind and carry every child

My rising soul reaches its V-max
Far apparent and heavier than
My wrinkled flesh and dying bones

My legs and hands were weaker
My voice was slow, deep and cracked
My ears heard sounds; mute and loud

It was by 9:30
Within the slightest flash
They turned off the light

My soul was free, not held tight
Now I felt, what it was like
Being in Abel’s shoes

Death!
More cruel
And heartless than his brother Cain.

%d bloggers like this: