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Caduceus and sawbones

I have tried to fix the broken allure
And was the only one obeying the laws
I have had hopes in hopeless times
I guess this place is not of mine..
Now I hear the calls of the white rain
And the cravings of my hot vein
I know all that the ancients say
About the hunter that lost his way
It isn’t worth it, if it leaves my hand
So worryless of that I left behind
To catch the horse, follow the neigh
Truth is bitter, this city is a fray
No disrespect to my background
But I rather my own kind of way
Not dancing underneath the sun
Whereas my destiny loiter in soil.
(C) 2022 Http://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onywkachukwu
Waiting for sunsets

The cock may crow
at the break of dawn
hopeful we are for,
tomorrow’s sun…
There are times I
think about leaving
and where I will be
lost in my sleep
On the thin ice
we are all waiting
like an employee,
for that we reap…
On our payroll
is the same caption:
saying; “when I call,
don’t be stunned“.
(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Beyond sane minds

There are people
who are crumbled
Gone bananas
losing marbles
Seeming normal
but in a mess
Each time their mind
is put to test
Some are nutty
as a fruitcake
And may not know
Is all it takes
There are people
with ropes and knifes
Guns and poisons,
taking their lives
Some are confused
so lost within
Some regular
with wetting chins
See, life is hard
there ain’t no doubt
But in the dark,
mind is the light
And ought to be
A docile sea
Where storms may come,
But wait and see
For droplets lost
will be renewed
And even when
you’re feeling blue
Fallen to pieces,
Or ship capsized
Do not think of
shutting those eyes
Should you be a
giver of pain
I guess you have
to change that name
Not all insane
roam in the streets
Help those you see,
regain their sights.
(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Beclouded rose

Starring in the roles of ecstasies
Are bewitching flowers from precious trees
That exists in the sacred rhapsodies
Of fickle hearts catching pitter-patter,
From the styles and stigmas that deters
Immortals from grace as they pander.
This very pedal has an inner beauty
That conforms not with confidentiality
Instead her fragrance, in high velocity
Make the honeycombs to never run dry
As it willingly dispenses cravings into beehives
Transmitting signals stamen long to have.
This flower is configured to shine and rule
Her pride rests on her own receptacle
She’s beauty personified, yes it’s true
Like Aphrodite’s in reincarnation
Stretching back from time of creation
Till now, none can compete with her perfection
Aside the artifact in the treasure chest
Inside the ecstasy, she appears stainless,
Big and soft, classy and simple, yet complex
As her shadow, I’ve seen her naked by the mirror
Intently conceiving herself a pure allure
Whereas outside the illusion she has many scars and errors.
© 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
Indescribable

Outcomes of our fall,
Has an open door
Coming from a war
We may tag as life,
Fighting for our lives
Gaining dust for ranks.
Scythe or by broom
People still presume
We roam in their rooms
When we turn to ghosts
Whose breath cease to fit
While the maggots eat.
People think we see,
Walk and always feel
All they tag as real…
Could it be an end
Or a sort of bend
To a whole new blend?
Death breeds afterlife
We were once alive
To say otherwise
Now we are the myths
That are real or not
Until shadows exit…
On this battlefield
Life is short indeed
Silence is the shield
Separating lines
Yes, none can describe
What death may look like.
©2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Scythe of fate

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Sometimes I scream inside my tent
Waking up from the blanks of rest
Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
From the voids that cause me to shed
It all seems like I lose my head;
Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Wondering what it would be like
In total void away from life…
Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Within my faith there is despair
Lying next to my greatest fear
Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Transparent yet still not clear
One day I would be missing here…
Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Trees may fall, the leaves may dry
I heard that, the soul never dies
Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Wondering if soul is a myth
Created to ease the scythe of fate.
(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Red orange Delilah

Heaven may see through my corrupt thoughts
And the point where my conscience got burnt...
Until it sees a beauty with grace and elegance
Making a statement; fall or take a chance...
Heaven may erase my name from the book of life
But I await the judgement after my demise
For there is a perspective of sin I have seen
That justifies impermissible carnal sin.
Heaven knows that even immortals
Can't take their stainless eyes off her
Her body configuration do not hide
The amazing workshop where God's craft abide
Heaven knows that her skin is as soft as a wool
Red orange Delilah meant for Samson's Waterloo...
I know in heaven my thoughts are condemned
But with her, I would rather stay as damned.
(C) 2021 Http://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu