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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

Miracle and Drug

I took pills
In the clubs
Landed on a bed
Hospital, temples
And Shrines..

The Rabbi sees
Doom and blessings
Taking turns;
But every day
A cell die, one is born.

The medic says
Stomach healing came
From swallow pills
But every four days
Comes a new lining.

Signs and wonders;
But do recovery
Come from prayers
Every twenty eight day
Comes a skin layer.

Now who is right?
Every sixteen
To eighteen month
To a new body
A cell is formed.

The herbalists say
The “Abrakatabra”
Renew the skin,
Yet our body
Is a renewable resource.

Let’s cut the sight,
Right to the chase
Who is right,
Medic, tradition
Or religion?

I’m not saying
There is no God;
Culture and tradition
The body is of God’s
Miracle and drug.



Ebu wonder

I have seen a basket fetch water
From lakes, streams and rivers.

I have seen a piece of fabric
Once in a flat and tiny box

Danced unaided like the winds
Rising from an ancestral spine;

Taping the spiritual energies of life,
By the sounds of an African drum.

Unspeakably, like the leaven of a yeast
It rises strong like a bunch of bamboos

Patterns are the orders of the world
But I fail to unravel a masquerade logic

So, come and see for yourselves
A piece of cloth and body of the gods

The gods of the land, you called dead
Sensationally, rising from lifelessness

To reclaim the heights from the roofs
Tallish Iroko tree and layers in the skies,

Come and see the famous Ebu wonder
As it dances and grows taller than trees.

Expression Eruption: Ethnical Man

The ethical man believes in everything
A right to sin or say; tell the lie
A right to be righteous; thus
A right to be bound or say be liberated
When no road is straight and clear.

The ethical man sees fact in anything
Fat or thin, robust or slim
To him life is a nephron of factors
Every connecting capillary matters
He makes his point with a pinch of salt.

The ethical man is good in chess
In killing something big he never use
Anything equal or bigger
For the outcome from onset
Is usually small or smaller.

The ethical man sees things
From all possible parameters
For if a big heart is divided
By something microscopic
The scattered pieces is often larger
He will never divide 1 or anything greater
By anything less or far lesser than zero.

An ethical man is a diplomat
Favours anything base on its concept Everything matters no matter how small
Religion and culture
Yet they say; he is so sceptical
When culture is a religion
And a religion a culture.

Native Fly: Greeting the King

Years years after birth
December thirty-first
Three times the thumb raised
From the palm beneath
Where the arm rest
Didn’t care if it was
Black or white dress
O yes he fell flat from the cliff
Then down he laid his chest
Bowing to the one and only king
In the land he shall rest.

Native Fly: Africa

Land of great minds, leaders and subjects
‘Uh, oh no!’
High and low, beauty for sure
Sweet and sour, but sugariness more promising;

East to west, no lazy man in the vast east
Who know not how to compel his brown skin to struggle
Irrespective of pre-eminent beauty and splendour
Tiling the soil when the sun fries the most
Nor set traps with bamboos to catch wild beast in Tanzania.

There is no true inhabitant of the west
Loathing to let-slip enthusiasm
Dwelling in or outside the marvellous crystalline rocky land
Of a huge Nigeria black, a Ghana brown,
And a Sierra Leone blood red sand.

Calling himself an African
Bearing a black coloured name
Loving the African Culture and claims to have heard
Great minds like Mandela,
And wouldn’t believe that Africa is destined for greatness.

Is it the enormous Central, historic North or South?
The white and black in shield and craton
Histories, oh great Egypt!
First in many, last in a few
Diverse ethnic groups beautiful cultures, arts and designs.

Native Fly: The Hunter’s Feet

Tough thick and hefty
On the hill top, down the hillside
Dreadful feet to the dust and sticky mud
The butterfly loves to perch.

Stout sturdy and eager
It leaves a print on the soil, oh what a pace!
Not even the fastest wild beast can escape
Nor the slowest and astute
But they all testify only at the hindsight.

Hiss to the snake, heehaw to the donkey
It is the heirloom to the typical huntsman
Virile enough to procreate the heyday

Chink in Achilles armor
Flaw in opposing gravity
But not frightened by the hot sun-scorched soil
Nor the burning forest while chasing after the eletu the rabbit
Heartbreaking, the daydreaming ankle never gets the opportunity to stroke it.

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