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Category Archives: Aesthetic

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

Pray for Plateau

Pray for Plateau
Pray for the faithfuls departed
In a cold blood.
Rain curses on those evil hands
Of men, cursed is the day they were born…

Pray for Plateau
Pray for those slaughtered
If I was God
Roaringly, I will kill the bastards
On the day before they were born.

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

Nigeria: Slice me if I become a piggy politician

There were once clans of great people
Living by their ethics and spiritual beliefs
All across the River of Niger and Benue
Until amalgamation came to hide the thrones.

Colonial masters united her yet in disunity
Because there is strength in diversity
But people forgot her ethics and divinity
Picking up new fights for Islam and Christianity.

It then seems as if freedom was a mirage
When toy soldiers stepped up with childish mentality
Egocentricity, leading her to war without amenities
Reading the unpublished script of independence

Many innocent flesh fell under the bullets
Indeed the British joined bad to evil outlets
It was in June twelve, nineteen ninety three
Men turned gods and destroyed history…

Democracy they say but the military act
Under the control of pigs called politicians,
Let’s not forget the oil money boom
And how they looted and shipped wealth abroad,

Nigeria was just an innocent sweet girl
Until these bastards raped her so bad,
Now she is lost in a shadow of herself,
I pray she revives and become great again

Until then, should I become a politician
And follow the same evil footsteps of pigs
Call in the butcher to slice my meat
And please when you order do not pay for it.

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

How can we be one

Blood pool in the east
Explosions down south
Hausa kill Igbo’s
Herdsmen kill farmers.

There are columns
That turns me off
Each time I am
Filling a form

I so dislike
The religions options
It makes me wonder
Whose God is right…

I so dislike
Columns of origin
And emphasis on
Local government…

Though we have
To identify
Our identity
And our zones

But that is what
The politicians use
To rip us apart
How can we be one?

When we have planted
A mustard seed
For the differences
In religion and tribe.

If you have the power
To correct our wrongs
Please listen to this lament
And cry for a united world.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Our spirits called Africa

We are more than thick short hairs
We are proudly Africans…
Ashamed, not of our colour
For it is our greatest honor.

Connected by the root of trees
Covalently united by our spirits
We are bonds that never dissolve
While aiming at an indefinite limit.

Demonstrating with lots of love
Dancing to the rhythm in our sound
Our spirit would definitely be lost,
If we weren’t an African child.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
-Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
For UBA poetry challenge #Africaday
#UBA #Africaday2018 #ProudlyAfrica #Poetry #UBA #UnitedbankforAfrica #Vinzpoetry
I hope I win this challenge.

Sonnet: Mr. Beneficent

West comes before the east
I know of not many men
Called Mr. beneficent;

He is always pasting list
Of big and small issues…
If you search for his name
You see it at the least…

Humane in character
Philanthropic by nature
Selfless in his thinking
Altruistic in his doings;

Standing deep at the south
Or at the extreme east,
Is where you will find him.

©2018 vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Rats on the ceilings

There is this noise that keeps me awake
Ranting from the east; amplifying in west
Just as the quakes from an earthquake;

During the day it is calm, and still as a lake
But at night, it flows more than I can take
Making unending twittering sound of birds

Excruciating from a particular corner
And at same time striking loud like thunder
Mimicking drums, and all there are to drummers;

Pulling my eyes unto their movement
Nothing I see, so nothing I ever find
Wondering how they got there to hide.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Is this it…?

The magnanimity
Of infatuations
Mesmerized me
In the path of thoughts,

Thinking of the sweet
Heavenly pleasures
And the wonders
Of the rain showers

To be derive in tandem
When such a chance arise
For the expectations
Of what the body desires

That urge was greatest
But when infatuations
And the gigantic dreams
Suddenly became a reality,

It was like the thin tiny layer
Separating life and death
Loosing its great values
To none existence

Gathering experience
Eating from the big pot
Of desire to a point
I am like…. “Is this it?”

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


The difference between low and high
Shall keep increasing if we remain blind
I will say it a thousand times
Indexes do not care about you and I

Posthumous shall flood in the day we die
For now, everyone is too busy to say hi
It is just you and I, like wounds and fly
In a paradise surrounded by so many lies

Do not listen to the old hoaxes’ lines
Buttressed by the tears of a crocodile
They are the ones who traded with our birthrights
Removing the pupils from our pretty eyes

Now we are left with retina that traps no light
Indirectly making us the beggars to passersby
That only comes when they want us to buy
Our freedom and joy that they never grant

Each day and night underneath the sky
As we roll on a thin tiny breaking ice
Remember that the difference between low and high
Shall keep increasing if we remain blind.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


I have a mother like no other
She is the greatest thing since sliced bread
Just believe me and do not bother
To hide creepy acts from my mother.

Yes, my amazing dad may see faster
But my mother would look deeper
In between every lines she shall read
Spotting errors that makes us wonder.

A bag of breathe and flowing blood but a drone
Every day she multitask, just to care for the home
She shreds herself like a soap and its foam
Cooking, feeding for us, even while on phone.

What will the kids eat next, in her head questions roam
She is a supermom, in all coners of our home
Making her children sit on throne
As a man among men, now and when they are grown.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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