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Knocking on the door (Iku eka’ozo)

The time
When parents
Is gone…

The time
To knock door
By self
For love
Is come

Ku’ eka. (knock hands)
Ozo… (door)
If you
So truly
Love her!

Of Agbor
Will say:
So we
Are here

We came
For a charm
A Rose
Whose scents
We drink..

En’yi (we)
Racho onyen (came finding someone)
Si’kode (that will)
Bu’ye (give)
Enyi nni. (us food)

These sweet words
The wide
Long door
Is opened

Sweet maidens
Starts to
Take turns

In wrappers
From heads
To toes
Come out

We look
We pick
The one
We chose.

©2018 vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Dirty man

White on the inside
If you doubt, please cut
So doubts can cease

Should my blood stains hide
Not; who I am not
Understand please

I wasn’t as tan
As this, but the hot
Burning sun I kiss

Day and night on pan
For bliss so ends meet
Covers dark and pale

And bleached me so tight
Giving me these looks
You call; dirty man.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Primitive days

I am reincarnated in modern days
But I remember the old folks say
If you have just a swollen troat
Tie a crab on the damn goiter
Then we smeared vultures brain
And sometimes rub human feces
At times seek for the healing touch
Of a breathless little black child…

I do miss drinking from calabash
But I can perfectly remember
I often saw the village boys
Who suffered from leprosy
Drinking concussions made
From the rotting snakes
While those having syphilis
Where made to eat vulture meats.

I remember the elderlies
Would make a ring made of
Human feces over their eyes
Just to cure a blurry vision
Pregnant mothers were told
The rays from eclipsing moon
Could cause the babies to
Be born, deformed or retarded.

Those days were pretty fun
In the yard, white chalks we had
The roofs were made from trees
There was this atmosphere
In our village settlement
As the cock crows, we all woke
Daddy walked in the farms
While mummy prepared breakfast.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


The generations
Of the dark black men

Are now white and brown
Years after they gone…

Ours are now their farm
And it all began

When Pikin turned kids
And fowls called chicken…

Green lands of the black
In ample then lack

As core accent twist
To accommodate

Hi, hello… clap for

We are now enslaved
To its suits and ties,

With synthetic foods
And brilliant brains….

Lost in white shadows
Behind ruby lips

Perm and the blonde hairs
As the bleached heirs

Jamming the hands for,

That tore our wrappers
And white native chalks.

©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
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