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Lust in hearts

Playing sweet song
While she dances along…
My mind she blew
By the apples she threw

Now I am lust
In her heart to default
Playing sweet songs
While she dances along.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Captured

Dusting old shelves
And all there is left
I found her here
And I held her dear.

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

Yabba dabba doo!

Yabba dabba doo!
There is an amusement about her;
Spinning beautifully around her smile
That makes me ponder every time…

On the crown of her head
Is an aura of an Angel, you find
Yabba dabba doo!
In attitudes, she lends a hand

With her body configuration
Comes an irresistible temptation
Compelling love manifestation
Yabba dabba doo! Oh yes she rocks..

What a valuable treasure, if you see her
Take it that you’ve seen a goddess
Yabba dabba doo! I think she knows
Truly none is as influencing as her…

Yabba dabba doo! her mouth is thin
Yet everything she says with it
Is not just big but funny and interesting
Yabba dabba doo! She is just my kind.

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

Period of my rebirth

If I am to be rebirth
I shall love my destiny
To roam and scout for any
Trace of my present parents

I shall not just travel
To feel the beautiful world
But find an umbilical cord
Deep right inside my cradle.

Before water breaks or flows
I shall love to receive
All their sweet beautiful traits
Genetics and hereditary throws

I hope, they are not stressing
Worrying about my tomorrow
For nine months in a row
While the bumps is growing.

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

Weirdness of the African gods

References must be cited,
My lecturers emphasized.
Be of good behavior
My parents urged I endeavor

Today’s trends in Nigeria
Breeze sickness like malaria
As these politicians are embezzling
The pretty ladies go prostituting,

Fake pastors be casting out demons
As these men spin wheel of quick monies
The country is no doubt
A shadow of its unborn self…

The fortunes that favors the bold here
Are our indigenous identity we fear
As others make it inferior by faking
To be another thing yet utilizing

Our heritage but as the hidden secret
Beyond these laments, my questions are
Will you rather be a virgin that made hell
Or a professional prostitute that made heaven?

If you were the African gods,
Will you rather people come into your shrine for miracles
Or give out charms to an anointed prophet
Who goes performing your miracle in another gods name?

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Institution of affection

Love is an institution
Providing joy and satisfaction
Protecting careless emotions
With everlasting sweet affections.

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

Gracefully

Anything is possible if ants build hills
Please always pray for me
In your religion and in your beliefs
Pray for wealth and long life that give a relief
For death still remains the debt we all owe
Though by faith, but no one knows
The means or route answers comes to hand
All we know are factors that makes the ice melt down.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

President DT

In we God trust
But what a rust

To uncoat rods
Painting the winds.

Earth has issues
Clearly seen through

But why send troops
To outer space

When inner peace
Is not in yours…

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

Community Leader

Sitting beside a burning fire
I feel the heat of my desire
But my judgment is clouded
By an all or nothing ill demand.

People throw stones from glass house
Accusing me for sheltering a mouse
Making me wonder if I sold time
Will we be after money and prime?

This hot seat has made me to realize
That by default we all have vice,
Though a prostitute may not be discreet
But the pope has his own secret.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Three way junction

I woke up into an age called today
To see life recolored in dark grey
With ministers, prophets and reverends
Hiding skeletons in their cupboards.

Walking along the short road of life
I see hands with blood stained knifes
Dripping and calling for a fetish backup;
By the faces of the cream cleaned up.

So if the rich tell you their secret
You may wish to remain in the street
Where you sleep with both eyes close
Not frightened by shadows in clothes.

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