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Thanks to all philanthropists

A special thank you to all philanthropists
From east to west and north to south;
Up the sky; freely the littlest of birds fly
In such sweet serenity before the eyes
We envied their liberty and less worries
Until we became the characters in such stories.

At different stages, challenges comes in different forms
What we make of it matters, as either sadness or fun,
You see these tears, it falls from every eyes
But honestly, if the rich also cry
For the poor, what is there to live for?
A question we asked several times before.

Then our ghetto dirty lives were a truck load of pain
And death a tranquilizer, our wretched breath gain
Even in urban, death is a debt breath pays afterwards
Hence, the street we chose to suffering in this world
On a platter of gold, by you we were served and saved
We owe you our lives and everything we have.

Growing up, we thought of you as some kind of god,
And a creator, redesigning the whole wide world
Eradicating hunger, pains, sorrows, poverty
Sufferings and all forms of deformities.
If only this crazy world had more of you
Sufferings would have been a term we had no clue…

It was right at the junction of lost hope,
Where we had chosen an elevated floor and a rope
And just after tearily reciting our last prayer
Out of the blues came your pull by our shoulders,
From the rose flowers, you pulled out the thorns
Giving us a million more reasons to carry on.

©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Hunger, the true virus

At times I wish, hunger hits hard
On the rich too, so they understand
And feel the cruel pains, of lost souls
Who before turning ghost had no home.

At times, I wonder why the world is bias
Behaving like everyone inhale special gas
Whereas we are all one and the same
Living on earth, with various prides and shames.

Upon hearing pandemic, we all turn cold
Terrified that curtains will abruptly close
Whereas daily people untimely kick buckets
All because they run on empty stomachs.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Two homeless men

Everyday I walk by
The road where you made a home
Under the sun and moon light
You seem not worried at all
I see your barefooted print
A thousand miles, yet you smile.

Everyday I walk by
The road where you made a home
I see you catching a nap
With no mattress and pillow
I wonder how you got here
As an image of sorrow.

Everyday I walk by
The road where you made a home
I see you clear like crystal
But I say no word to you
I baffle how you manage
To squeeze in bins when it rains…

Everyday I walk by
The road where you made a home
I wish I could talk to you
Perhaps help you in any way
But I am like you, homeless
And my life is torn apart.

©2020 http://Vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Eating flesh, gifting bones

It pains so hard
That we still find
Folks eating sand
In a rich land.
Disparity
Between parties
Pose such pity
In my city.

Poverty sketch
Hits highest pitch
Those who eat flesh
Gift bones and preach.
It pains so hard
That we still find
Folks eating sand
In a rich land.

Many reach heights
To detach sight
From fingers that
Fed them in past
Disregarding
The beginnings
And forgetting
Humble gardens.

Seems the rich aim
At sending rain
To combat strain,
But make more gain;
And, not to sink
They kick, poor pick
Demeaning rocks
Praising rich folks.

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

Wastefulness

Love is in the air
Rotating like a fan
But an orphan
Wishes he could tell
Stories that you share.

Excess foods you trash
Inside bins and sinks;
In comfort you blink
And think, all eggs harsh
Forgetting the underdogs.

Ten digits are the fingers
Unequal, yours are golds
Condemning clothes,
And shoes, while the mingers
Are in torn rags, looking old.

Your environments is wow
Theirs is something else
That only fetches them tears
Until to death they bow;
….Do the needful; don’t be wasteful.

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

Rich and sad

I don’t care to know
If you are rich as Croesus
Of what essence is wealth
If you are impoverished inside.

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