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Approached

Love finds a way like water
The right recipe matters
From a pot to make a dish
Meant to sustain and nourish.

Why is it that when man desire
To possess the burning fire,
He rushes where Angels fail to thread
For love, he goes off the deep end.

Until she fall under his belt,
He always seem to fidget
Most times his liver falters
And the right words fail to utter.

At the other side of the net,
Even with bee in her bonnet
The lady would be a cold fish
And dark horse, in face of her wish.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Unpack no lies from trolls

To your actions, you are the
Chief cook and bottle washer
Say not, “they said you’re mad”
To the throne, if not first hand
Unpack no lies and rumours
When you know they are lemons
Remember that the stacked cards
Depend on themselves to stand
Just like driving on a road
Your actions may bay for blood
Say not, “they said you’re mad”
To the throne, if not first hand.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Pack of false

Even as camera’s roll ,
I bother not when they troll

For wonders last but nine days
And soon they become dead clays

But amongst all, I baffle
At the words, I made in full

Getting changed by reporters
Like the old Chinese whisper.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

A shot in the dark

I wish I could get to the end of the space
Lean by its edge; seeing all, right on my face,
Not just the stars and rocks, but to visualize
All the possibilities life can realize…

Maybe I would realize things wide off the mark
And not by blind faith nor whistles in the dark
Aside religions are there aliens up there
Or is it only tailored here on this sphere?

I stay rooted on earth, but I smell a rat
Though imaginary but it is a fact
For answers to be gotten, the end of space
Would have an interpretation of our faith.

But my fate wouldn’t take me to space to smell
The rum, raspberry, gunpowder and steak seared,
Nor unravel the mystery of darkness,
Light’s untold purpose and everything else.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Morbid and Moribund

I trusted the horse’s heel and dog’s tooth
To me, it was love that conquers all
Well, I have loved and I have lost
It is better than not to love.

I learnt cats in gloves catches no mice
So to cupid, I gave my heart
Which in turn, changed into a world
Round in circles it rotates me…

My light purse made a heavy heart
But I found solace in my tears
Only for wounds to resurface
It is better than not to love.

Just when I was swept off my feet
There came poverty in the door
Then the love flew out the window
And so I am, all moribund.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Discovery at Adulthood

We were not poor, we were not rich
We never had a net without a fish
Neither did we have the heaviest box
But what mum prepared satisfied us.

I saw my parents as the world’s richest
For, everyday seem to be harvest
We had not the sharpest tool in shed
But we made memories that never fades.

I was never the sharp knife in drawer
But they inspired me to go on further
All along I felt my dad could buy a jet
And it all a wind chase for many years.

My parents hid the real world from me
They provided all of my dare needs
And never did their struggling face show
Or things they went through so I can glow.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

My first two heartbreaks

My first heartbreak came from my father
Who made me wear my bib and tucker
After promising to take me to the end
Only to dodge and drive me round the bend..

My second heartbreak came from my mother
Pressing my wounds with boiling water
I was broken underneath her armpits
I thought she promised not to press it.

But these heartbreaks prepared me for the world
It opened my eyes to see beguiling odds
And how they cloud the gullible brain
Hence, I trust not all calling me sweet names.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

When I was a kid

When I was a kid, I was a kid
Like every other, I had my mischiefs

I soiled myself building mud hills
I placed my fingers in the till

At some point, I picked meat from the pot
Rubbing evidence on my white shirt

Shameful as it is I did bed wet
I told white lies, nodding my head

From mum, I hid wounds without delay
When I bruise my knee from a rough play

Time for silence were my moments
Disturbance seemed to be my talent

Most times from an innovation
It all ended up in destructions

From nothing I still created fields
I jumped down from trees with other kids

I saw things as a piece of cake
Like climbing mountains and swimming lakes

Most times I hate seeking for help
My energy sprung in its own step

When I was a kid, I was a kid!
Now I am a dad, watching my kid.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Home is all

Not so big and not so small
A lot have passed through these walls
With enough room to swing the cat
Family is all, it is a fact.

Though the pot may call a kettle black
Respect was all I should never lack
Till I became a constant guest
Causing so many unrests.

My home remains not fed up
Of all troubles and flip-flops
Now I know why dead bodies
In graveyards, have no enemies.

Heat I give, hell can not bear
Yet, it welcomes me dearly,
Within block of steady tears
Refilling glass used to cheer.

Just like the leg I stand on
Evidence can not be burnt
I am an ugly monkey
But my home tightly hugs me.

Each time the world rejects me
Its roof accommodates me
When I drag its name in muds
It grows mad yet breaks no bond.

I broke windows on my way
Getting my words in edgeways
I abuse where I belong
At the top of my own lungs.

I pulled out accessories
With all flaws and excesses
Even as a black sheep blind,
Home is all I ever found.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

A reason to die

I don’t need to pull triggers
Even when I am a wild tiger
I don’t need to stretch out claws
To prove it’s sharp on the floor

I don’t need no gunpowders
All I need is a homemaker
Just the type that withstand breeze
And advocate for love and peace.

All hairs can not be long and dark
Hence before I make a remark
I love to see and analyze
And not just jump to criticize

I had taken a million punch,
Only to give out flower bunch
I do things as a diplomat,
But for blood till death, I fight.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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