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Rough patch


Care to rent my garment?
Its shortage and mortgage…
Length to breadth is all bent
By jet age and carnage…
Lost values and bad names
Breaks my floor when it pours
None is tame on my lane
These and more, are my falls.

All my hopes hit the slope
Across page and all age
Righteous Pope can not cope
With my wage at this stage,
The cold sweat and peanuts
Hits the floor as it pours
Down and out, kiss of death
These and more are my flaws.

Unemployed? Dead is joy,
And the rage breaks the stage
Tempts and lures to destroy
My prestige and image
North to south, east to west
Wants me torn on the floor
Into parts, tribal path
These and more tears me more…

No great shakes, till they pick
From the cage they engaged
Coming quick as a wink
A new age, a new wage
Cans of worms, keeps them warm
Wealth they pour on the floor
Reaching Sun with their sums
These and more are my faults…

All prices hikes and spikes
Into grave like hot wave
What a prize for a rise
With damage and bandage
Can we right green and white?
This I pour on the floor;
Please fix it, my garment
Deserve more, than my fall.

©2021 Http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Depth of sheds

Sirens wailing
Choppers hovering,
Nigeria
Now a war zone!

We were once one
Inseparable
Nigerians
Not anymore…

It hurts so bad
I do love the name
Nigeria
But not the pain…

Thousands as much
We work for peanuts;
Nigeria!
… Hate us that much?

Should we reject
Being born in here;
Nigerians
Or fix it all?

Who is to blame
Geo-region, tribes,
Nigerians
Smiling in pains?

Millions suffer
Dying of hunger;
Nigerians
Still kill their selves.

Oh yes, we know
Change is gradual;
Nigeria
We pay our dues

Yet you make it
Insignificant;
Nigerians
You scare away.

I am so soaked
Not in tears of joy;
Nigeria
But common pains

I wish I shed
A Crocodile’s tears
Nigeria
Each time you bled…

But I love you
Magnanimously
Nigeria
Reasons I cry…

These my tears are
Not from romances of
Nigerians
Nor their heartbreaks…

But from the fall
Of an iroko tree;
Nigeria
Heading down south

Stretching my hands
Unable to help
Nigeria
And help myself.

©2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Existing in a movie

Staying a bit longer, to me is no more

Since sands turned to bloods on the floor

Somebody, anybody come save me

Save me from the collapsing hill

Sadly, every single dream I had is dead

Several years gone, yet suspense refused to end

Save me from a timeframe so unreal

Scan me to find tears filled to the brim

She is dying yet they see muse and thrills

Seamless are the pieces around her fallen tree

Silly politicians enjoy the role they play

Squandering the sands of her broken clay

Stupidly, they all seem to know no shame

Somebody ought to feel concerned of her dying name

She is Nigeria, drowning across all ages

Surprisingly, she doubts if she can be saved

Since snakes swallowed elephant in her script

Seriously, I wait to hear the director outside the script,

Screaming “cut!!!” in my lifetime otherwise,

Something in me will regret wasteful cries

Soiling the soil and suffering as a fictional character…..

Swimming in false hope she will get better.

(C) 2021 http://Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sanguine

You were part of our culture
With an integral function
Sanguine oh Sanguine
Sanguine oh Sanguine!
Do you detest Nigeria
So much that you forgot her?

We became more divided
Ever since you were hard to find
Sanguine oh Sanguine
Sanguine oh Sanguine
You were once our bedrock
Reason we do try out lucks

The fall of a dried leaf
Is roasting a million beef
Sanguine oh Sanguine
Sanguine oh Sanguine
On the spot where it rots
A new life ought to sprout

Instead shadows grow tall
With claws tearing us all
Sanguine oh Sanguine
Sanguine oh Sanguine!!!
Calamity lives here
Yet you left us to our tears.

(C) 2021 http://Vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Thirsty dicey

There was once a girl in paradise
Her future was bright, she ought to rise
Not until a bunch of ruthless swine
Overpowered her, and left her to die…

From withered flowers, gold turned to stone
Heritage of her unborn were sold
The falling raindrops had to do divert
And she metamorphosed into a desert

She had a shallow oasis left
In her lineage until her rebirth
But the swines placed their bail into it
Fetching every drop until there is nothing left

With the rising dehydrated tongues
Insurgencies escalated in turns
Now, her once beautiful paradise
Is on a radial for bombs rolling like dice.

(c) 2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: The prohibited Area

Niger and Benue rivers are flowing
But the tidal waves within are not helping
Reasons uncountable boats are cap-sided
While searching for liberty or daily bread.

Ever since two parallel lines are meeting
Democracy lost it actual meaning
In a once-upon-a-time great kingdom
Where the mighty Eagle once had freedom.

From a distance she stares at the cage
Of which she is locked within to engage
In arguments of distracting topics
While politicians desecrate the pride of the tropics.

In Politics, nothing seems to be working
Aside illegalities and thuggeries
Priding on wings in prohibited areas
They chopped off, acquiring more honoraria

They are the dirt, same-time the broom
Looting and misleading the land to doom
Seemingly, they are keen to uprooted roots
Extinguishing sparks and killing truth…

Definitely, there ought to be a way
Out of this cage, either at night or day
It has never been placing a foot in front
Rather, we who are manned to shoot ourselves on sight.

(C) 2021 http://Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria at its low

Don’t tell me we are leaders of tomorrow
Whereas we have been compelled to burrow
And wallow in the deep of our shameful sorrow

I am just furious at unrepentant blunders
And the drying river of hope makes me ponder
If tears can be de-escalated to natural order

The unchanging mindset of the masses is a killer
Especially the youths wedging bullets and pulling triggers
For the same old pricks re-elected as leaders

My loathe is against footprints in sands of time
Welded with tribal trolls, and looting dimes
From the mortgaged future of you and I.

I am against shrinkage, positive growth is my stands
But decay and recession has eaten up my land
Yet we fail to comprehend what is at hand

I feel the anthem has skeptical stanzas
If the lyricists of 1978 calls, I may not answer
Get it, I am no rebel, I just need things to get better.

(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Let’s not go back to 2020

There was blood between two greens,
After the peace and unity disagreed
The young bloods came out singing
With purpose as they were marching.

The birds hummed promises to fix the error
Yet they changed the name “error” to “terror”
Was it that, the protest had no direction?
Or was it just another, pull them down syndrome?

Answers came from centres that began to tear
Forming thick black fumes in the air
As properties and structures were set ablaze
Insane it was, seeing anyone truly amazed.

Many young bloods came out stretching their claws
In a once peaceful protest turned to war…
Lost was the hope that was left
After the trained turtles sprayed bullets.

Indeed tempos arose, in all directions
The birds announced there would be sanctions
But the rage of terror never ceased
Into the streets, more turtles were lunched

To calm things down, and maybe to shoot again…
In all, the greens and white were in pains
Seeing their characters loss global integrity
As the pawns were out absolutely in disunity

Those who had, and had nothing to lose brought knives
And most behaved like they had nine lives
Beheaded, but survived the many lies
From the birds, who sang, “no pawn ever died”

Politicians are all the same over the world
But for humanity we ought to build great walls
With peace and progress, yet we take a wrong path
Whereas just two Kings in chessboard is a still mate.

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

In the hands of the pigs

Down the streets, I see fierce men in blacks
Throwing punches and spraying bullets back
On both the dead guilty and the innocent
From such grief no man becomes a saint…

Down the streets, I pass everyday
There are a lot my eyes see and lips can’t say
If I were to write, I will run out of pages
It has been on since the rock of ages…

I see torn rags, I see fat pigs, I see hawks
I see ugly vultures perking clean rotten foods
I see little ants queueing for shrunken and fat pigs
Though most times the results are rigged…

At the other end where the grasses are green
I see different faces but the same within
For as they wear the authority band
The little ants and gullible expect a hand

A helping hand, but the route to end injustice,
Alongside corruption and malpractice
Causing sufferings to large extent
And institutionalized Government,

Making every under the roof look so dumb
As well as embezzlements in all forms,
Are the same routes fat pigs themselves pass
On a regularly on their way flying first class.

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