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Creator’s Computers

Believing He hears us when we speak
Whether aloud, muttering in brink
Life is an Ocean, so float or sink.
Note; we are all to death, a fink
Sets of computers, with varying kinks;
Aren’t you freaked out by such tricks?

I hope it is yes, because life is a jink
Captivating like Webfoot’s mink
I am me, eyes of me, several blinks.
Loosing my nerves, while I think
Ocean’s colors, pathways and link
Do you too see beyond the pink?

Exploring, my brain attempts to shake
These dead ends, are firewalls I think
Setting a limitation with my inks
Drawing and writing, all I think
But when I paint, I fall to my dink
Wondering about the water I drink.

Should the world, crash and shrink
Or burn and turn to void, a staking rink
Will all wonders and mystries just wink
And fade away like it never blinked
I hope these Firewalls falls or leaks
So I can visualize the things you think.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Individual Units of Life

Exchanging air, perusing space
Inside myself, in bold and fear
I wonder the secret ingredients
Used to cook up an existent
Applauded more by diversities
Separating the ups and downs,
Distinguishing right from left
Making beauty so crystal clear.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Time: True Clock

All breath ceases
In seconds
Premonition

Tick tick tick
The clock ticks
All days and nights.

Till rebirth
Of a Phoenix
Cycling invent;

There is such
A thing so real
Better when felt

Around the Sun
A thing, called void
In time and life.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Retiring Poet

If I am to stop writing poems today
I must make sure, I have written
About love, and my unending love
For the unquestionable nature
And an unequivocal culture we share.


I must make sure, I have written
About the identity of human being
The true beautiful African skin
And the attractiveness of all races
That thus grace this small world.


I must make sure, I have written
Praising God and the deities served
For creating things pure and clean
With sexuality to reckon with
As a true phenomenal being.


I must make sure, I have written
All of the memories in my head
Wealth in knowledge and in pockets
Of the family I carved out from it
Down running time; called history.


I must make sure, I have written
About the politicians and politics
The bold lies they love to tell
And the unshamed long nose
That led to many self discovery…


I must make sure, I have written
All about the innocence of a dove
The experience of the sun and rain
And the misunderstand conflicts
And the reasons no one burry hatchets.


I must make sure, I have written
About the realities we term death
And the fake deceits of life
Why male chauvinism hurt wife
Holding spoon we see as jagged knife.


©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

There is God

Severe affliction stroke my mortal kneels
And my hands were fused on a rolling wheels
I struggled like I was about to drown
Then the lights shone for hope to ending frown

I made His word a noble solid ground
Got into prayers on several rounds
I prayed that I walk into daily meal
That grace in the deserts shall favour me

I imagined how on His golden throne
He did bestow on my head a crown
Victory, amongst all I shall heed
And never forget, that there is God.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

#16 lines: Inestimable

She is an erratic princess
A beauty never witnessed,
A sporadic soft babe
Not meant for any Abe.

She is an intermittent lady,
A wonder in the galaxy.
Uncommon, none can pay
She shines at night and day.

She is an inestimable stone,
Precisely a treasure to own.
Hating her kills a star,
Loving her pretty scar.

She is a strain of gorgeous
Her beauty is so intense,
Scarce and raw intelligence
Inestimable is her existence.

Unintentional Existence: If

Not sigh, but If only they could chat

In languages we comprehend

Sure there would be an end

To the wrongs we do as good.

 

The devilish inimical extremist

Dirty politics we play for command

Makes me wonder is kill them all

….The purpose of existence?

 

Every clap we make

Has a dead butterfly in it

If only we could comprehend

Would a fly die this way?

 

For God sake,

The world is just made for man only

Well every mad man feels okay

If the heart doesn’t feel wrong, is it right?

 

If only

The insects we crush

The rodents we trap

The cattle and birds we hunt

Everything that has life… just-mention

Could speak to us on the hour or after the hour of death

Then we will know we are inhuman

And irrational in decisions we make.

 

By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

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