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Everyday Nigerian
Hey! I think it is time to call a spade a spade
Stop pointing fingers on Whites while wearing their shades.
It is not just color but the complexity
Of the thick black wrappers we wrap our fragile hearts.
Heaven’s integrity has lost its bearing
Foetus in womb, now throws bombs, on the internet;
“Yahoo, yahoo”… the first word they learn to pronounce…
Hey! White folks online, will you ever learn to learn?
Everyday a strong Nigerian child is born
Into unfriendly weather, created by those before
Fittest survivals, they all come out blocking wombs
The smarter the baby, greater damage he creates.
Money on the palm, legs up, body on the bed
War began using western education to fight
Against same western education on green soil
The bigger the bloodshed the louder dummies rejoices.
Everyday the Nigerian child gets pregnant
Who is the father? is often a mute answer
The trimesters usually comes as disasters
Like the Nigeria economic the fear hits hard.
Picking up habits, calculating higher odds
Love and nuptial rings, misleading many Angels
Into crude cruel and fatal domestic violence…
Light trips off, the rapist, thieves and murderers win,
The Devil issues cheque; holy lost its holy grill,
Doubting the faith and homily preachers preach
Believing in the dreams and visions far from reach
Innocence seems guilty, pills and dark clouded party,
The bigger the city, the bigger the pity
Known or knowingly the Devil provides aides,
Fashion and nudity is now the reigning thing
Yet stupidity is covering the ass we see.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Finding tracks
We are in abundance
Yet we complain of darkness.
Inside pits, that are shallow;
We hide behind the shadow.
Our melanin we pour ore
Under the hot scorching sun;
Hot-cakes fly like birds, to lands
Where they can be better brands.
Leaving behind, the half baked
To dictate, the give and take,
Talking; whereas, as critics
We bury the beams and rays
Yet we beg for candlelights
From the waxes we burnt out.
Http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Loving our broken world
Some of us are faster
building great walls
Nonetheless we cluster,
making life hard
Some of us are eager
to travel worlds
Xenophobic murders,
they take our head.
Some of us are beggars
in foreign lands
Nothing thus is better
than rural brand.
Some of us are winners,
fame framed on walls
None of which would ever
offer a hand
Some of us live better
in broken worlds
Nothing thus is uglier
than foreign land.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Today is the seed
Better a small egg today
Than a fat hen tomorrow
Come see the rotten seed
Once bone dried and decayed
With no snow chance in hell
Now better and sprouting.
Come see the rotten seed
No one ever wished well
With problems aid, hope aided;
Now the best look of things
Better a mouse in the pot
Than no fried chicken at all.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Well Matched
Mend a heart, nurture good names
While love age, let it not fade.
I know a man who never shivered
When he got red roses withered.
Heartlessness filled his wardrobes,
His eyes never shed teardrops
Drying water, he tore ridges
At every point he built bridges.
Many chics he racked with pains
Many slates he left thus stained,
Till two played the game of sole
True love, confused for wrong hole.
Beyond redemption he found
Himself hearing his own sound
While his soul, tasted his blood
Gushing like rain and its flood.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Secrets to reaching grey
My best advice to every man
Is never to ever lose an arm
These days trousers cut across genders
Struggling to fulfill agendas
My best advice to every man
Is never to ever lose an arm
This arm is not the anatomy
Neither the spans and weaponry
My best advice to every man
Is never to ever lose an arm
In strength and support rendered
By love, family and friends
They are the might in an entity
Fused as power of longevity
My best advice to every man
Is never to ever lose an arm.
©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Never stop dreaming
Experience is not hermaphrodite
Knowledge in youth is wisdom at old
Who fathers wit, if experience
Is the mother of wisdom ?
Every giant has a building block,
Millions of sands under the rocks
Certain adages are just headlines
Not all eggs laid are fertilized,
Skills are safer when developed
Attempts and experiences tie knots
To become indispensable
Without them, wisdom is stillborn.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Sentimentalism
No man owns the great soil we stand
But our bloods are shed on this land
Skulls we count brings hatred to mind
North, South, East and West pick hand.
The golden ball is on your court
Wonder why it is difficult ?
The tender feelings never die
Nostalgia continues to fly.
Brains build an evil monument
One bad thing about sentiment
Is that she writes an alibi
Defending her all actions and
Those of her tribes, sisters, brothers,
Dad and mum, sons and her daughters
Whether they are guilty or not
Exculpation she drops alot.
We all have narratives to share
But do we have to destroy selves
When an atom of peace and love
Would give unity strengthen globe.
©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Waking up till we ghost
Larvas may fly as butterflies
All moves they try are old in skies
Partying wile! come out in style
In a short while, we all will die.
On chopping boards we are capons
Life grabbed the horns, and toss a coin
Not all that churn, spread butter on
Like rhinos horns, unequal torn
Finger are not, same bolts and nuts
Nights batter hats, it hurts a lot.
Up comes the sun, we think we won
But we are born to take a turn
There is no cure to our failure
It is for sure, life is impure.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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A loss to win
Warriors of my motherland
I can see you are well armed
In weapons and in courage
To fight for a dream of age
That will liberate all of us
But what if the dream is false?
What if we were never meant
To go out, head on and fight
But let the bitterness of life
Tear us apart with its knives
Like the farmers do to grass
And the fire burns it to ash
What if the best way forward
Is not bravery but as cowards
For tomorrow to be made better
By the shoot that shall sprout later
From bones and rotten corpses
Liberating all of us.
