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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

The politicians

There is a deep dark hole
That swallows shrinking souls

This dark hole is manmade
And the arts never fades.

Wish truth could be embroiled
And service be recoiled

So promises could come true
For the sky to stay blue.

But dead are the chariots
And Angels before us.

The champagne births an ace
Even with a smooth face

But long legs always win
And many are turned in

Enjoying pool of blood
Slitting throats with sharp swords

Sharing sweats, drinking tea
Blind indeed is justice.

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

Nigeria: The emigrates

We are weak at knees but our huts
Are built by hands not plucked off trees
We invest a lot to get no gain
And it seems we are meant for pains,
Hence, we all book an appointment
At embassies, for better breath
Reducing working hands to few
Dragging luggage on a long queue
Waiting for our time, most times by feet
For days, we hiss crossing deserts,
Sore ligaments, many breakdown
Others sex slaved, we kiss and frown…
Yet these greedy green grasshoppers
We voted and call our Nation leaders
Are not perturbed that we flood out
Neither are they concerned we blackout.

Do not fall like the cards in rows
Do not spiral out of control
So keep doing that you are good at
Live to tell the tales, of your kites
I am not Martin Luther King
But, I have a dream and it’s big
That one day there shall be an end
To our foolishness and dying beds
I know we are knotted by tight ties,
And the Devil may cry, but not die
No matter the prayers and ill-words…
But; one good day, he shall be bored
And then our town shall abort all
Evils, and cut off greedy claws
To transform grasshoppers to ants
Building shelters and making plans.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Human Killers

Every home has its pillars
When broken, all shall collapse
Yet death is not the true killer
In this world
Of increasing embezzling masses

Today you hear money missing
Later you hear whistleblowing
And the destruction of bonds
Resulting from
Mismanagements of funds.

To me, the universe suffers
Because of what greed offers
How can someone hide large sum
In his apartment,
When humans are dying in poverty.

My anger is not vested upon theft
But the lives lost directly or indirectly
Associated to poverty daily
When someone,
Has the controlling force to evade such.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Mosquito farm

I often ponder; the essence of
Pandora’s box and evil deeds…

To an emperor and his empire
Like a ghost, never spotted

A blood bath on a reddish pool
Righteous sinner and a Godly Demon

Clean dirty mud, innocent vampires…
That do not feast on the red water

From human streams, well, not directly
But through large farm of mosquitoes

He sets them free to suck human blood
And when filled it returns to him

Emptying bloods fetched from veins
The thin line between life and death

Begins to fade; easy to erase
Vampires are people making deadly weapons

And weapons do not kill
Vampires do, indirectly.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Black Politicians

Black Politicians – Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Even with disgust detectors
Black pigs are but evil vectors
They pretend to be good mentors
Displaying the calm sheep’s features
Whereas they are the Devil’s mentors.

Borough, soil loses its textures
Development they place in detentions
Vanity they steal buried in mansions
Human brain has no sense receptors
But I feel deep pain inside my brains

I can’t comprehend the pigs actions
Mind you black pigs can lack pigments
So it is not just about complexions
But the irritating gravitating tensions
That keeps reprinting in revelations

And coming as scissors and vultures
To destroy the books none are authors;
And worsen the strains of genetic minds
When they are done, they leave behind sands
Feet and self-destructive hands.

© 2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Golden moon

In my dark hood
A golden moon
Always come soon.

A drop reflect
Vultures blindbat
Got voted last night.

Beautiful mirror
Pleasant odour
Rags on minors

Splashing nothing
Yet announcing
Quantum lighting.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


Illustrious with no clavicle puncture
Yet your caricature is a vulture
On our future you rest your furniture,

Your raw ambitions those empty an Ocean
With kisses that ventures love portions
From your beak coated with false emotion.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Long Happiness

Ducks are dressed
Stainless like steel
The muds or less,
No one feel.

White papers
Our own leaders
Warms the cockles
Of our hearts.

On reforms
They promise warm
But a sad worm
Share in turns.

The cockles
Of our assholes
Has sure become
Their playgrounds.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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