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Filling station

At the filling station,
White and black smoke
Attempts to make us choke

Rims kept spinning around
Heading to where hush sound
The birds sang, horns buzz

Insane walked free, sane squeeze
Queuing, suddenly saying bye
Seconds pass, others passed by

Young and old breath trooped in
For all sort of tanks refill
All colors present blended as one

Underneath the dark light
Where canopies made a shade
No man or woman had a blade

‘Buy my own, buy from me please
Many screamed, for hustle to ease
Some were smiling, others worried

But kept drinking and eating
Off the pocket for the items
They purchased, for desires

No apartheid, no damn favor
The doubled woman and working men
Sweat in pain for reward of labor

No one brought out divine crosses
Or craving ivory yet salvation
Lived in peace, with no bruises

Far beyond visible tribal marks
Two things we all had in common
Was to live and earn, as an atom.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Angry ghost

Don’t say I am an abominable man
If I die by the swords of an evil man
Dust I return, as an evil ghost reborn

I shall be deaf and blind to buried hatchets
While I torment his lineage with kicking buckets
Until his quickest mileage becomes a casket

I shall love the coward’s crown saved
Cast me not out, I am not a brave
Who believes in the act of forgiveness.

©2018 vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Unrest soul: finding a church

Is it just me?
I have a thing
For past memoir

When I was small
The Sunday church
Was spiritual

I strolled to church
I had this touch
And sense of thrust

Body and soul
Rising to words
The preachers preach

But not anymore
I am all torn
In skeptics pools

As I grew up
I am afloat
In my own faith

Empty to faults
Finding a church
With that feelings

I felt, in time
Backwards I was
A boy, back then

But I am lost
In my own thoughts
Finding a church.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Tone: Finding faith

A religion
That preaches
Love and peace
With positivism
Is that I long…

A religion
That preaches
Good morals
Get me so

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Tone: sentimentalism

You are a sentimental bitch
In topics that relates to me;
An extremists and a fanatic
That always see so myopic.
You bring death; the living bled
Your mindset you always fed
By over flogging issues
You are a sentimental bitch.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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