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Nigeria: Parental Blackmail

Family union is now by force
Yet our parents gave birth to us

And we say we are not blood
Tribal, nepotism we then flood

Getting pork from piggery farm
By sacrificing our only arm

Ironically, our dreadful barrier
Isn’t that our parents are Nigerians

But their farm we call politics
Gives us failed system of logic.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Retiring Poet

If I am to stop writing poems today
I must make sure, I have written
About love, and my unending love
For the unquestionable nature
And an unequivocal culture we share.

I must make sure, I have written
About the identity of human being
The true beautiful African skin
And the attractiveness of all races
That thus grace this small world.

I must make sure, I have written
Praising God and the deities served
For creating things pure and clean
With sexuality to reckon with
As a true phenomenal being.

I must make sure, I have written
All of the memories in my head
Wealth in knowledge and in pockets
Of the family I carved out from it
Down running time; called history.

I must make sure, I have written
About the politicians and politics
The bold lies they love to tell
And the unshamed long nose
That led to many self discovery…

I must make sure, I have written
All about the innocence of a dove
The experience of the sun and rain
And the misunderstand conflicts
And the reasons no one burry hatchets.

I must make sure, I have written
About the realities we term death
And the fake deceits of life
Why male chauvinism hurt wife
Holding spoon we see as jagged knife.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sister enemy

There was a time; we lived in farms
When herdsmen had no firearms
Yes we had the saints and the thieves
But suicides were not part of it.

Within the north, west, south and east
Was this peace leavening of yeast
Citizens were seen not as slaves
Or broken pieces, of a clan’s chief

Political names not of our genes
Called local government of origin
Came to cut the ribbons we had
Leaving us as sisters but enemies…

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

The little boy

That little boy you know
Is coming to your hometown,
He is coming, with a spoon
Not to fetch from your stew

He is coming with a knife
Not to slit or take a life
He is coming with a red wing
Not to flap showers of blood

He comes with acrimonious gaze
Not to turn you into expatriates
He comes as phoenix from its ashes
Not to avenge the flames before.

He is coming with a shovel,
Not to dig out buried stones,
He is coming with green face
Not to claim your pot of gold

He is coming on bare foot
Not to steal your fancy shoes
He is coming in torn rags
Not to beg for your mercy

He comes with engraved tears
Not to soak them on your shoulders
He comes with all rib cage out
Not to be at your beck and call

He comes with two sharp horns
Not to ram you out of his sight
He comes with hungry stomach
Not eat from your silos and barns

He comes with a loud ringing bell,
Not to dictate the time you eat
He comes informed with aims,
Not to pull the trigger on you,

He comes as the same little boy
In the past that you once knew,
But with a bag of bigger dreams
Worth more than golden thrones.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Bad leaders

Walking by the roads
Of muddy pot holes
Tax I paid for poles
Turned their cash for shows,

Working unfit roads
For winds, cars and toes
With nothing to squeeze,
Water splashes are quiz.

Wanting better roads
Leaders path but chose
Hawk gathering clothes
Of same ragged coats.

Wishing these our roads
Need no paddle boats
While their pockets fat,
My feet shrinks and bloat.

©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 are despicable judge
Wig pig and podge; so fake and forge
A beak perking vulture indulge
George is the law that makes me purge.

©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

Water off a ducks back

Politics is nothing but staged tricks
Drop a valuable leaf inside these box
So I give voice to voiceless reward.

Crown mine if thy wish to go to mars
For inside my speech is sweet coated bars;
As soon as I step on thy staged tricks

Dogs turn stray with thick blood sucking ticks
While I become an ineffective shark
Like the water rush off a duck’s back.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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