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Truth by an Angel

Ears in heaven cherishes a singer
Choir’s musicals she gives a soul
She is a wish heaven loves to make.

I heard she dresses like a striper
Displaying her hot cameltoe
Making tonnes to gather at lake.

Her dress sense makes the sun hotter
In black and blue, she lost a role
Suspended from church for burnt bakes.

Yet in her flaws she is better
Than the people I used to know
Going around as a preacher.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Twenty-third Century Blackman

His culture he held high
Until globalisation
Which is the narrow line
Between sanity and
Insanity widened.

There goes the Century man
Clean in words, stained in conscience,
Conducting church crusades
With thick red blood and guts
Disgorging from his hands.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Speak directly

Have you ever asked questions
Pertaining your expeditions
Down the paths of religions,
Cultures and traditions ?

Do I believe in a Creator?
Yes I do, but I need a mentor
To prove flames and perceive odours
Oozing through these many doors.

My kneels falls on the floor
Sometimes am lost on its tour
Finding a true faithful shore
But I lie, am filled with His gore,

Taking momentum to ceilings
Expecting extra feelings
After a pool of baptism,
I go speaking in tongues

Acting or not; miracle pours
But I doubt and expect more
More to show, like visible dews
We are many, sadly it is true.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Hypocritical extrovert

He stays in clusters
Not far from the trash

His converse and clump
Always fetch a punch

Brawling, war ridden
Everything he touch.

Man of religion
Brainwashes the church.

He ships and worships
With a faith that lurch

He is that example
Folks critic the church.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Trouble knows me

Trouble knows me well
Trouble rings my bell
Trouble brings me hell
Trouble always care.

Every time I sail
I get many nails,
Piercing through my ship
Sinking my great sail.

Am I really cursed?
The preachers do say
For all your sins boy
The debts He had paid.

I often try to pray
But to no avail
And each time I sail
There comes another nail.

Unrest Soul: Churches After Christ Death

Don’t go off in a huff
If I say God is not on your roof
Salvation is not found in a church
Don’t nail me to a cross
Or clothe me in dirty torn rags
Each time I go on a crying jag.

Don’t go off in a huff
When I say
Your large numbers are decorative salvation hunters
Amongst are saints and sinners
But claim to be righteous doers
And ready to go through the roof…

Don’t go off in a huff
When I say
We are not white in color;
After His death the crucifix changed
To a wealthy vision and objectives…
Will you make it If the blackboy comes?

Don’t go off in a huff
When I say
The devil is alive
And my cross belongs within me
For, how many will you alternate when
Every church has its own black field.

Don’t Call Me Mad : Churchgoers


With millions of congregation

Dancing from corner to edges

As the choristers sings; rock of ages

-With sweet surrender voices

Curative surely is for the deaf

To the left, surprisingly my twin-wings swings

Not intentionally or by the act of the whirling winds

Nor the hatred in the tune or song she sings

But for the entire things the bible call sins

Looking through their eyes

I see ruthlessness in their hearts.


I see things heavy for an angel’s eye

Swiftly I swerved my eyes up and down

To the shining roof and floor

And then the well-furnished temple

There goes a rhythm

“Ride on pastor”


The preacher perspires right on the alter

Blessings with no curses he dispenses

The sermon he delivers has the power

“Time is near, change from your old ways” he warns

My white eye turns red

“Emotional” you may think

But the words he says

Are falling into the ears

Of a wrong parishioners


In the middle of a million worshipers

The medley of loud thoughts

Hits my ears

Not even one of them all has a clear mind

The preacher also is a supporter of no just

Dear lord I’m outnumbered.



Written by Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

© 2012: https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com




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