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There was a time; we lived in farms
When herdsmen had no firearms
Yes we had the saints and the thieves
But suicides were not part of it.
Within the north, west, south and east
Was this peace leavening of yeast
Citizens were seen not as slaves
Or broken pieces, of a clan’s chief
Political names not of our genes
Called local government of origin
Came to cut the ribbons we had
Leaving us as sisters but enemies…
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
I’m a staunch resident in a wild black world
Where there are three strong facets of lords;
One; a master who will ruthlessly incite wars
Two; the rich man, arrogantly flaying the poor
Three; a poor loyal slave who serves them all.
These slaves are tolerant and like table frames
They diligently labor in hardship to earn a pebble,
They are united in their various individual hustle,
Together against each other they fight a battle,
Surviving the though times of endless struggles.
Obi, Sani and Wale are slaves who are able,
In youthfulness and in old; to engage in a battle…
They are bewitched by the lords of the castle
To die to rottenness, they are the Shepherd’s cattle,
While the master and wealthy; foster a noisy rattle.
Slavery and disunity, the game of throwns incite,
On wet woods, wild fire they love to ignite;
East to west they say; slaves have no brother
North and South, they drop stress for them to ponder;
Now the wild black world is replicating this blunder.
As a resident, I hear them emphasize on regilions;
Hatred becomes a love language for all tribes
We inherent vultures that culture us to gain laurels,
Remaining politically selfish and greedy, whereas;
From space, the world offers no diversity of lifes.
8:04 AM Thursday July 22, 2010
At the crack of dawn
No smile uh
‘I hate you!‘ Who did that and who did this?
‘Not in front of the kids’ Eye to eye, finding faults, exchanging blows
Fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers
‘Stupid family!’ regretting membership to the households
Even neighbors find witches in themselves
Dogs, cats, birds and beasts wonder who the animal is
The wrong side of bed, regular to the neighborhoods.
The hot air at the crack of dawn had preheated
‘Fool, stupid man!’
Out of like, love, extreme dislike and hatred.
First light, combating all weekdays even to a holy Sunday
‘I’ll slap you!’
Ministers, preachers, pastors and members of clergy
Present or to be in the expectations, redheaded finding faults
Exchanging blows, pouring curses, bringing down the dark skies,
Confusion in the family, no peace to the sun-scotching afternoon
When the moon stands an eyeball to an eyeball to its’ charger
And every peace lover is too busy in alone idle or commerce.
By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka