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Waking up till we ghost

Larvas may fly as butterflies
All moves they try are old in skies

Partying wile! come out in style
In a short while, we all will die.

On chopping boards we are capons
Life grabbed the horns, and toss a coin

Not all that churn, spread butter on
Like rhinos horns, unequal torn

Finger are not, same bolts and nuts
Nights batter hats, it hurts a lot.

Up comes the sun, we think we won
But we are born to take a turn

There is no cure to our failure
It is for sure, life is impure.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

A loss to win

Warriors of my motherland
I can see you are well armed
In weapons and in courage
To fight for a dream of age
That will liberate all of us
But what if the dream is false?

What if we were never meant
To go out, head on and fight
But let the bitterness of life
Tear us apart with its knives
Like the farmers do to grass
And the fire burns it to ash

What if the best way forward
Is not bravery but as cowards
For tomorrow to be made better
By the shoot that shall sprout later
From bones and rotten corpses
Liberating all of us.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Old man failure

With great pleasure a dog dug a grave
It snuffed out not treasures but a rage
Coming from dried bones of rock age.

Lamenting on how they had all failed
Cutting across, mirrors, lenses and led
Refracting the light, visions they bend.

No silver spoon but unfavorable genes
Coming deep from tall ancestral trees
Posthumous clear, regrets never cease

Life gave guns as toys, they sort for lucks
From drugs and scam in school of hard knocks
And as the twig bends, they planted on rocks.

Lack of persistence got them no win
No self discipline they were never clean
Not through self efforts, they gained power from bins

In all their positions, intemperance;
Procrastination, were their best friends
Until it lured them to undesirable ends.

Many an old man, has past they wish to rewind
Where they built glass castles on empty cloud
Throwing stones, hitting floors regretfully loud

Remember time ticks fast, it isn’t yours to own
And the living body you wear is but only a loan
For the old man failure stays with him to bone.

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

Synecdoche of Current page

The shadows we run from helps us turn
The inherent aptitude, from page to page.

Writing books with no table of content
Just preface gotten from the naming days,

No human can take back the hands of time;
The characters in here are none frictions.

Grey and shadows are our awaiting shelves
Forever young is a pie in the sky.

In life we live, we Author our own book
Writing our own stories on mortal sheets.

Current page is at times the worst page of our books
Though at times, not the case, for those on top the world.

Every day a page turns for next chapter to come
No Author knows the end of his story.

The shadows we run from lives by the grey
An inherent aptitude in our books.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Dead Dream’s Dream

Dreams change the world at large
Hence it chose you to dream and create
Writing new ranges in pages
Of morning dew drops to elate.

More than Seas, tall as hills
Bright as sunlight was future you
Now I see cup of teas
Cracking starlight falling as cubes.

My hopes blew; I told you
To walk away from cold embrace.
I showed you not all new
Dawns bring today in all man’s race.

But the you that you are
Looked for roses elsewhere and flied
Black and blue, blunt and cruel,
He killed you there on dreaming bed.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.wordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

A brush with death

The air begins to leak
Inevitably,
During a brush with death
We are unable
But beckon for breath
Running from rest we seek.

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

Dying on board

The needles and syringe
Has worked, from winter,
Through summer and spring…
…Terminal it is!

Repeating cycles
Just so to cheat death
“You got just few hours”;
Then said men in whites

Several stuffs
Puffed wide, through his brains
“Oh, is this the end”;
He said to himself.

He could feel curtains
Closing fast on him
Even when movies
Had only began

All his smiles then froze
Head over shoulder
He close his cold eyes
Slowly blinking twice.

Stranger in the states
While living his life
So he owed to death
His flesh on home soil

But the stress when gone
And cost to incur
Transporting his corpse
Would be hot as hell

So he then embarked
On a journey home
From great Atlanta
At least while he breaths

Delta flight took off
Cruising altitudes
Eight hours on the air
Three hours to touchdown

Friendly shadows came
Passing through his flesh
He could feel his leg
Kicking the buckets

Off jurisdiction
His greatest joy was;
Tragedy but brave
And just humanly.

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

Sonnet: Entrusting death

Death, I know that you can sting
Poison my wine, I will drink
For if I begin to count
The knives, arrows and bullets
You have put into my chest
The ears that hear will go deaf
For eyes that saw still shed tears.

Death, I know that you can bite Between those claws and white teeth
I give you reasonable doubts
Not because, am scared of you
Nor because, am weak to fight
But, that stinging bees build hives
And ants that bite, still build hills.

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

Sonnet: Blood on our land

Weren’t hearts made for love
To carry the red fluid
Of oxygen and the genes…
Not pumping rage and blood

There is blood on our land!!
Hearts have lost their office
And sense of right and wrong.

In modern age and time
Cold blood reigns supreme here
Sadly, it rains on all tiers

From the high power drunk,
To green-eyed local folks
Envious of another growth
Spilling blood on our land.

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

Haiku: Tribute to Don Williams

Playing without you,
Country songs, will not sound same
R.I.P. Williams.

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