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3 regimes

In retrospect of three regimes
It has been die or get strong;
Hence, nepotism and tribalism
Has become of our mentality.
Leaders of onion properties
Rule Nigeria, in poor capacity.

The first still feels he is a god;
Ever since he got out of jail
Endorsing and distributing rods
Although he laid the block
For an economic reform
Third tenure fell out of luck.

People say he picked a sickling
As heir, whose deputy replaced
When he gave up the ghost..
But who are we to question God
When life we live is borrowed
In the hollow of his demise,

His deputy was reelected in joy
A man who once had no shoes
Became the shoemakers tool…
Until love turned soar to all
Corruption flew openly in air
He was still to be his own heir.

This humble Zologist was calm
And allowed several mockeries
Of him and lady of his bakery
The political knifes began to fly
Not later was he back-stabbed
For humanity, he passed the rod

To he who was to be the Messiah
But turned out to be the hellfire
Not just sluggish as a snail
But distributor of hardship and hunger
Garnished with increased poverty
While hunting down political rivals.

© 2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
® All Rights Reserved.

Modern Society

Welcome to tomorrow’s
Retrospective island

In the times of sands
Admiration we borrow.

From a pool of portion
Where she is, far and close.

Even in her clothes
And imagination,

She always ring a bell
With her perfection.

Her body configuration
Torments even an angel

She is not just a lady
So, who’s she in question?

She is a dream in motion
Releasing items trendy

Flashy perfect like Deity
Answers to crave and search

Beauty that sexes the flesh
Trend is the modern society.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Life of a madman

Those people you see along the street
In drivel, roaming from west to west
Dressed to kill, in the worst of rags
Naked or clothed, holding torn bags.

Those people the Sane prescribe brains
Don’t fail to reason beyond the chains.
The poison that kills the mentally stable
Nourishes and reticulate their cables

Looking at them; I sometimes wish
I was like them, no hook, no fish
But whatever touches their tongue
Is okay, while they sing their song

The rags, garbage is their pleasure
Yet they don’t die of the pressure
The Sane battles, by things they crunch
Life, ought to be no worries as such.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


Stress could be
All over the face.

But count it
All joy
Because you are

To have
Cortisol hormone

For those with
Addison disease
Lacks it.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Rot in grave

Just midway through
When darkness drew
All heads to beds,

She dug out dirt
So deeply felt
And then she flew;

I cried cold tears
Burning my beards
When she left me

Inside coffin
Buried alive
To rot in grave.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Queued to death

Although life is but
Rule or then be ruled
In it; we are queued
Not by birth or breath.

Often we fall out
Of line, by the rot
Of distracting wealth
And mirrage of fact;

No one knows the length
Of line; and whose next
But on queue we wait
Till we turn to dust.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Self destruction

Memories will; in due time fade
But not this kind; I am stuck on
A diving bell underneath waters.

Water of tears, ashes and smokes
Giving-up; might just turn out to be,
The best idea, there is to this

Please don’t take it the wrong way;
There is just no other way out
Between the Devil and deep blue Sea

Slitting my throat, is so far from ego
But I have to go now than to pick up
Same shattered pieces by tomorrow.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Lock in syndrome

Not dead not alive
Yet brain did not allow
The body parts
To carry out
Their function.

Diseases can be
As cold as an ice
To an extent that;
Great and mighty
Falls and humbles….

I got to know a Bee
Busy beautiful butterflies;
Who was an Einstein
Writing letters while blinking
His cold craving eyes.

Breathing is a shame
When death is dare
Coming as blunder
Terminal disorder
To all organs in sum

“What is your name
Demons in there”
I asked in wonder
Only to discover
He had ‘lock-in-syndrome’.

Not dead not alive
Yet brain did not allow
The body parts
To carry out
Their function.

Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Underneath London Bridge

The London bridge
Is falling down
But, your advises
Yes, has no vices
This golden heart
Is made of clay
Hence it has to…
…Just end this way.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

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