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Agbor: Eletu and a deer

In this land are the sands
Father’s hand, robbed as a kid.

Veins connect, Orogodo chest
As straight as the crow flies,

Youngest ever, sat on a thrown
Far before plebs had a phone

Before tides he was pride of homes,
Till his hides, turned white foams…

Black tongues and spirits bleach
Return home, his plebs preach

Orogodo River now a Vail
As the palace looses its file,

Right in the midst of it all
Several Hawks gathers tall

With babbles here and there
But the bush Eletu and a deer

Both crying out, hey my dear
Someday it shall be well…

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
– Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Inspired by Bar. J. Ifesemen

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Nigeria: Fifty Seven October


On a stage with flag,
Green and a white green
With fifty seven
Shades, of same old me…

I sing songs of joy
To bring back dead hopes
With one mind for good
Electrified crowd.

I sing songs of peace,
The world I sing to
Smile each time I mime
But dance off my beats…

The songs I sing of
Harmony, says
We are all related
Seeds, genes, blood and tribes…

I sing songs of love
To ears of the world
On a public scene
And they nod their heads.

When I bow to leave,
I kinda love it
Only that I sing
To a deaf audience.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

African dancer

In a dark night with stars
No mosquito come sucking
A sun glittering hide…

There are cold drinks in bar
A little of your sipping
The heaven you shall find.

Come and dance with me ma
You are a black entity
Whine and shake those behind

There is no another
It is you and I dancing
To the beats of our background.

©2017 Vincpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Black laments

Hey negro Lego,
Never say let go…

What God has united,
Let none tear apart.

You may be a white,
No man is born snow,

Our core African rites
Forbids rapes and blows…

Dressing so sexy
Is so sweet I know

But will only get
Pants ripped you know

Beyond a black skin
And a leather race

Is an inherent
Trace of beauty faces..

Don’t be enslaved
By a self bingo

Unity is ours, we
are not a jingo.

© 2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu.

Skinny Black Pig


I may be a pig, but not fat
Nor calm as a sleeping cat
Laying on a weaved mat,
While others can not fart…

My forehead has shining scars
Should I nag, count my strands
I was born with enough pain
Quite the number of my hairs…

Take a look at my dull face
Read between my midnight race
You will see a hidden pain
From the sufferings that I gain…

Please, is it a crime or a sin
To be black and skinny as me
Good parents don’t pass to kin
An heritage the pigs have killed.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
image by HARINZEY ART
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