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Thanks to all philanthropists

A special thank you to all philanthropists
From east to west and north to south;
Up the sky; freely the littlest of birds fly
In such sweet serenity before the eyes
We envied their liberty and less worries
Until we became the characters in such stories.

At different stages, challenges comes in different forms
What we make of it matters, as either sadness or fun,
You see these tears, it falls from every eyes
But honestly, if the rich also cry
For the poor, what is there to live for?
A question we asked several times before.

Then our ghetto dirty lives were a truck load of pain
And death a tranquilizer, our wretched breath gain
Even in urban, death is a debt breath pays afterwards
Hence, the street we chose to suffering in this world
On a platter of gold, by you we were served and saved
We owe you our lives and everything we have.

Growing up, we thought of you as some kind of god,
And a creator, redesigning the whole wide world
Eradicating hunger, pains, sorrows, poverty
Sufferings and all forms of deformities.
If only this crazy world had more of you
Sufferings would have been a term we had no clue…

It was right at the junction of lost hope,
Where we had chosen an elevated floor and a rope
And just after tearily reciting our last prayer
Out of the blues came your pull by our shoulders,
From the rose flowers, you pulled out the thorns
Giving us a million more reasons to carry on.

©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

He deserved to die

Nothing hurts like being tarred
With the same bush and evil cards
So just when the sun began to melt
And it seemed there was nothing left

Knowing you would never be back
As shadows spread out in the dark
I stretched out a gun and pulled the trigger
With no atom of regret nor did I shiver.

Sad? Tell me how could I fold my hands
While you fade out before my eyes
Into the crazy thin air on a journey
Of trusting, falling and cuddling…

Especially when it was made from flatters,
With the truth labelled monsters;
And a large cake which is not worth
Your precious burning candles and sweats.

(C) 2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sonnet: The Frontliners

We all ought to copy a good example
From the selfless services that never prattles
When stuttering riffles, rapidly rattles
Taking shots for humanity in battles
That comes in various forms like balls in skittles
Knocking down breadwinners leaving no bottles
But just sour bitter tears in a teakettle.

Through dottles the Nation swallows her spittle
The devastation can never be bottled
But their offices are replaced while they whittle
Into narrow coffins holding their mettle
Most times their homes become a tent dismantled
But couldn’t they have left behind a castle ?
Sacrifices like theirs are far from a guttle.

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

Justice for Uwavera II

It pains to feel the pain
Or voice unheard complains
Dug out around the roots
And uprooted from the earth
Uwa was just a girl
Twenty two, so unfair
Raped and killed in the church
She didn’t deserve such.

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

Justice for Uwavera (I)

Seek consent and be sure
Before you pull or draw
All bakers use a flour
Not to mess up the floor

I know you may be lust
And it is all your fault
Uwavera was just
Not an ordinary dust.

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

Floyd’s: Nine minutes

In space of nine minutes
Floyd just couldn’t breath
I bet he didn’t know…
But where did Angels go

Withered rose, broken vase
Now that the universe’s
Balance and harmony
Seems a sanctimony…

Isn’t the earth tired
Of cold bloodshed mired
Coming from another
Dark colored skin brother

Derek’s kneels is not new
I once thought we outgrew
Injustice, I was wrong
Nine minute to morgue

Those around did keep quite
Recording Floyd’s death
Yet marching together
Screaming: ‘black lives matter”.

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

Two faithfuls

Even when swimming in tears,
And drowning in sober reflection,
Even while the sky is falling
Amidst the petulance called Corona
And long dark shadow of death,
Laying still are two faithfuls
Two faithfuls of quality grey
Turning dust under the earth…

Two faithfuls of related blood,
Two faithfuls that never hid an hug
Two faithfuls whose teachings I received
As a little child and also as an adult
Two faithfuls, one in his mid eighty
And the other in her mid seventy
Two faithfuls buried a day in between
Two faithfuls of the Onyeche dynasty.

I did look away from the Priest
I searched for drones up to gaze
And any thing sort of a distraction
Just to take my drowning minds away
From two faithfuls and the undertakers
Oh life, oh life, oh life all I can say is;
It is well, dust shall we all return
One day when our clocks stops to run.

R.I.P dear Uncle and Aunt.

(c) 2020 vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Corona: Blame China

Wuhan city makes me wonder
Why the Chinese licked fifth finger
And made the whole world to wash hands
Paying for meals they never had.

This is no racism but the fact
So who will help to bail the cat
Before it gets a little late
Blaming China for this plaque.

Not until my street was empty
I never saw bigger pictures
Of empty lungs and the vultures
Should humanity lose this war.

This war is biochemical
Not for guns or mechanicals
But obeying protocols, while
Blaming China for this plague.

Thousands go under the weather
The sleepless cities now slumbers
But once it hits the rural
Great Nigeria will be no more

On this earth we are all tenants
But why is man so much cruel
Destroying the home that they rent
I blame China for this plague

They know the devil they let loose
From Pandoras and test tubes
So stay lockdown in your abodes
Waiting for a miracle…

Every morning through the window
I stare at these empty streets
And fall back to my we pillows
Blaming China for this plague.

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

Corona: Tomorrow died yesterday

Armageddon is having fun
Ever since the blue skies collapsed…
Humanity hops, jumps and runs
Falling into core heat of hell
Where our hopes are melted by darkness
And a billion heavy eyes pour
On the pulpits I once believed…
Don’t tell me morrow will come.

The dark age has refused to end
Everyday across the world
The pandemic claims tonnes of souls
We await sunny days to come
When the world would be healed again
But how can she, when she is dead
And today is not guaranteed
Don’t tell me morrow will come.

God must have turned His back on us
Allowing wind of death have fun
With the overwhelming scores
Of gasping breaths and dried skulls
Even the great walls are falling
Like London bridge, deep into pits
Of shades they normally destroy…
Don’t tell me morrow will come.

Hurricanes accompanying pains
Pushed, shoved, subdued and blown away;
Our Almighty Guardian Angels
Have left us to our mortal fates
Across the world, we realize
That nothing on Earth is certain,
Until I see healed tomorrow,
Don’t tell me morrow will come.

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

Corona is karma

I have a dream, and in that dream,
Apocalypse made reverse flip
She flooded streets, with a reset,
Giving them back all in their bank

Accordingly, appropriately
Cutting sockets, kicking buckets
Lots of bodies, foes and Buddies,
Were stacked like logs, and scared of bugs…

“Dirt kills not an Africa man”
Oh sorry, not those type of men
Who corruption has eaten deep
Beyond depths meant for sinking ship

Now, the center hold not anymore
Beans are empty in cooking pot
And our Hopes are dead in weevils
I heard someone casting Devils

All blames they pushed but he stayed put
In hell, watching landing birds pooh
He had no hand, sins of our land
Exhumed from sands from end to end

Wedges were down and mere touchdown
For personal gain, and golden crowns
Then borders crossed, the virus tossed
Dirt we overpowered, now kills us

We fight world war three, without arms
Which all began from the pigs farm
And self enrich but now they itch
Even as they could turn to fish

With ten fins and bladders to swim
The tears that rain pours out cruel pain
Coming from drugs and outside laws;
Stay far apart; stay sanitized

More than a gun headshot begun
Aiming at rich lessons it teach…
I have a dream, and in that dream,
Apocalypse, had many flips.

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