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Nigeria: Targets and guns

I heard on the radio
Different tribes dig holes
For another to ghost hoax
Politically incited toast pose


Honesty is never too late
My Nigeria will be great
When we all are rulers
Born or grown as leaders


Elected by facts not hype
Nor marked by stereotype
Or officially stained as bribe
Geographical region and tribe


My Nigeria will be great
One day, when we create
A mindset that we are one
Not dissimilar targets and guns.


©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Parental Blackmail

Family union is now by force
Yet our parents gave birth to us

And we say we are not blood
Tribal, nepotism we then flood

Getting pork from piggery farm
By sacrificing our only arm

Ironically, our dreadful barrier
Isn’t that our parents are Nigerians

But their farm we call politics
Gives us failed system of logic.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Blacks town

Unease lies
The head that wears the crown
Our leaders
Just seems to love being clowns
Debts they owe
And sorrows gladly pile up.

There were times,
I was both low and down
I had aches
From thinking of this town
And my eyes
Just kept shedding wet tears

Filling wells
And all cans that can hold
I cry for
Generations unborn
And also
Those that had already come

That sit to
Watch clowns empty their bin
On our yards
While we cheer a sweet song
Clapping hands
As they turn our doors to woods

This our town
Once on high altitude
Is now but
South a huge platitude
With lots of
Flies, wounds, vultures and owls…

gods are dead
In its most fierce revenge
And her shrines
Has turned empty clay and logs
Where ants and
Evil men take as their abodes

I have not
Left this shore of my birth
But the things
I have seen of other folks
Beyond arts
And the overemphases

If not love
For the clans calabash
Maybe I
Shall be called a run away
But there is
Pain, roaming free in the streets.

This black town
Has purportedly push
Its hard luck
I do not understand
Confidence
Derived from damage locks.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Poor black mind

Hope growth is not an hallucination
How did the Whites become diabetic
Economically well structured and nice
Whereas blacks lags; now we auction
Selves, for slavery; legal or illegal
Under the weather of milk and honey.

The internet has become an office
While our gods accepts sacrifices
Kids nowadays cling diabolical ways
Extorting money from folks abroad..
The painful part is, men truly legit
Are but now the riffraff in town…

My country is drying up not because
She fell on the largest of cradle beds
Nor because her leaves and stalks are old
But because she has solely refused
To keep muds far from pigs while trimming leaves
And growing the grey hairs of wisdom.

No metaphor or synedoche can hide
The bad governance these lands have
Hello! are you proud of our sour soups
Yes I am proud to be called an African
Yes I am proud to be called a Nigerian
But I hope my children don’t end up like me.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Bad leaders

Walking by the roads
Of muddy pot holes
Tax I paid for poles
Turned their cash for shows,

Working unfit roads
For winds, cars and toes
With nothing to squeeze,
Water splashes are quiz.

Wanting better roads
Leaders path but chose
Hawk gathering clothes
Of same ragged coats.

Wishing these our roads
Need no paddle boats
While their pockets fat,
My feet shrinks and bloat.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Way forward

My take as a thinker
For us to glow and grow
Forget pointing fingers
And all the blames we know…

Step into the right way
Correct issues, leave ashes
Face demons; so to say,
In whatever that arises.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

The Precede

Do not show me, your tissues
For I make use of mine,
Though for dinner, as a clown.

Beauty romance, in my hands,
Is a knife, seen as roses
Up on the roof, that I climb.

Candles I lit, smelt so good,
Shinning teeth, bearing heat
Up on the roof, that I climb.

Inside my house, I got stuffs
Dragging devil in chains
But birds portrait, I portray.

Hey young world, your schematics
In a word, should be what
To represent your brand well.

Do not show me, your toilet
For my meals end up there
Paint life good and get rewards.

Message here is, Africa
And Nigeria is ours,
No family without ish…

Yet you never get to know
Kindly stop publicly
Rubbishing the black mans land

To the rest of the universe
When the clown smiling world
Is not as perfect as said.

©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

Nigeria: Tribalism

Tribalism is an identity
Resulting to nepotism
And a great animosity.

Tribalism is an identity
Of no statutory backings
Denting my nationality,

From existing as an entity
Resulting to conflicts
And the death of humanity.

Tribalism is an identity
A scar on nationalism
Degrading our community.

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