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If you were born
With a silver spoon

And never sweated
For golds and burgers

Remember those born
Under the poon

Nothing is wasted
Be a helper.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Eating flesh, gifting bones

It pains so hard
That we still find
Folks eating sand
In a rich land.
Disparity
Between parties
Pose such pity
In my city.

Poverty sketch
Hits highest pitch
Those who eat flesh
Gift bones and preach.
It pains so hard
That we still find
Folks eating sand
In a rich land.

Many reach heights
To detach sight
From fingers that
Fed them in past
Disregarding
The beginnings
And forgetting
Humble gardens.

Seems the rich aim
At sending rain
To combat strain,
But make more gain;
And, not to sink
They kick, poor pick
Demeaning rocks
Praising rich folks.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Our Conspicuous Attitude

Nigerians; in all areas
Are blessed with enormous wealth.
In our shells, our nuts are small
Outside it, we shine so bright.

Nigerians; the green white fans
Dance it out, in full support.
We are broke, only in books
When we spend we shut malls down.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Three way junction

I woke up into an age called today
To see life recolored in dark grey
With ministers, prophets and reverends
Hiding skeletons in their cupboards.

Walking along the short road of life
I see hands with blood stained knifes
Dripping and calling for a fetish backup;
By the faces of the cream cleaned up.

So if the rich tell you their secret
You may wish to remain in the street
Where you sleep with both eyes close
Not frightened by shadows in clothes.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Wild black world

I’m a staunch resident in a wild black world
Where there are three strong facets of lords;
One; a master who will ruthlessly incite wars
Two; the rich man, arrogantly flaying the poor
Three; a poor loyal slave who serves them all.

These slaves are tolerant and like table frames
They diligently labor in hardship to earn a pebble,
They are united in their various individual hustle,
Together against each other they fight a battle,
Surviving the though times of endless struggles.

Obi, Sani and Wale are slaves who are able,
In youthfulness and in old; to engage in a battle…
They are bewitched by the lords of the castle
To die to rottenness, they are the Shepherd’s cattle,
While the master and wealthy; foster a noisy rattle.

Slavery and disunity, the game of throwns incite,
On wet woods, wild fire they love to ignite;
East to west they say; slaves have no brother
North and South, they drop stress for them to ponder;
Now the wild black world is replicating this blunder.

As a resident, I hear them emphasize on regilions;
Hatred becomes a love language for all tribes
We inherent vultures that culture us to gain laurels,
Remaining politically selfish and greedy, whereas;
From space, the world offers no diversity of lifes.

Relating class

To be honest
To relate isn’t
By a huge pocket size.

Low bulk funds
But bold in act,
And cheerful in speech.

By the street
He sees a girl
Of his low or filthy class.

He jokes and jerks
Pokes and strokes
And always win her heart.

But a rich standby
And just say hi,
To a lady of his noble class.

Richest


She has to be well spoken
Fruitful, fertile
A good singer and dancer.

She has to be smart
Caring, intellectual
Affectionate and good mannered.

She has to be homely
Submissive, handy, motherly
And a truth teller…

She has to be gorgeous
Beautiful, a good smiler
Sweet and seductive.

She has to be fruity
Nails polished
Clean and well dressed,

But he has to be manly
Nothing other than
Rich and wealthy.

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