INFORMAL ROMANCE

Do you still remember your laughter you kept in my heart when we were younger?
Remember those days we stayed under the tree in my compound in the night, we hid from mother's eyes.
I held your feelings and emotions and you moaned,
Then I groaned in pleasurable pleasure.
Do you remember the lines we drew on the clay?


That year I carried you behind the backyard of the house,
I made for your mouth and let mine gumed to yours.
I caressed your perfectly made innocence and penetrate right into your mind and soul and corrupt it.
Remember our song of love, 'ebezina'; we sang then.
That morning I held your thign to my palms, the reddish flavoured gold beat and beat again and again.



Look at what we've made in the eyes of tomorrow!
Your father was like a thorn on our flesh, parading
Like a bull dog and roaring like a lion in the jungle.
Remember we didn't give ears to his barking.
I felt your soft tilted breast and your tongue danced excitedly penetrating through my virgin mouth.



We clothed love and unmasked hatred before us.
Under the love garden we grew together in peace,
We watched the parotting birds sing our love,
The leaves shield us from the dark frozen night.
Then I said 'Juliet takes me to somewhere we will be alone, I will be waiting for your love beside the sea'



Just remember the first time I hugged you behind the
School window, we were not afraid of the teacher.
We were drunk in love even fear was afraid of us.
Those days I stood at the bush path to wait for you,
I was afraid of seeing the eyeball of your father.
The informal romance was hell on earth to leave,
Even when I left you, your face still face me.



There is only one you and me,
Through the imperfection of love we are made.
Drive gently back here we you belong; for
Without the words of love in you am gone.




(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016
Voice Of Vincent

IN THE OLDEN DAYS

In the Olden days when we wear grasses,
When we dance naked under the rain,
When we were cooking grasses as drug,
When we have no fear in us and fear never
Haunt us just like the way it does now.
We were fine and good to go in the world.


In the olde days when life was for the brave
You marry as many wives as you want
There was no trouble for our fathers but now
When a man marries one wife he can't cope with her.
We are lost and lost in the wood of life.


In the olden days when mothers were wives,
When girls were girls without dirty minds
When wives were wives that never nag,
I should've married then than now that we have
men as women beating their husband at home.


In the days of old, when motor was not invented,
We were fine with horses and camels that never
Had an accident like vehicles does now to us.
Those days when we have no radio and television,
The heads of our youths were at home to impact.



In the olden days when we knew nothing,
We were nothing and nothing knew us;
We were good with throwing of arrows
And killing animals for food but now,
We are killed by the so called canned food.



We played with girls without anything in mind,
The elders removed their wrapper in front of us,
We were never ashamed to walk in the street unclothed, yet we were fine and honest to nature.
Plane never existed to kill us like wandering fowls,
Technologies were not there to mare us to sin,
We were just fine and cool with ourselves but
Now, things have change and change to our own pain.




A pregnant woman was not envious of a nursing mother because she knew her own time shall come.
And a widower should not be jealous of married
Ones because he has the power to remarry any time.
We live like one family and we seek the faceof the gods, religion was never the problem but now it is.
We shall soon see where this new dawn is going to.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016
Voice of vincent

DONT FOOL ME

Don't fool me,
I am not a fool.
Black man, listen!
Don't think having this gray hair is an act of stupidity, I have drank some water before you came.
I have a gray hair which will take you years to get.




Don't make me look like am insane
So that people will make a fool of me.
Everyone has his or her own weaknes,
If I make mistake, return my right to me.



See, don't fool me I am not a fool,
When looking for fool check the street of fools!
Treat me right and I shall serve you right!
For the fact you own here does not mean I am not your elder, I work for you so pay me my dues.



Take me like your brother, don't fool me!
We are in circular world, today is your turn
Tomorrow may be my turn not yours.
If the world turns, the first shall be the last and
The last shall be the first, so don't fool now!



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016
Voice of Vincent

DEAR FRIEND

Dear Friend,
I hope you were not caught up in the street,
I hope you made it to the otherside peacefully;
I was hunted down by fear and weakness.
We started the journey together I know, but
Fate separated us in the eve of the young day.
The tears that now held me up here had been
My companion right from my miserable childhood.
My only hope is that you never fail yourself
Just like the way I have disappointed myself.
Go get the money we couldn't get from the bank,
Go get the Cheque and sign the deal with them.
Loot those that never believed in our dreams
And mess the media for treating us like bad eggs.
My wish is that you come out victoriously,
Because the knitting pulse of my eyes longs
Towards the Roman empire to get that which
We dreamed of and could not get hold of it.
We acted like pussy-cat and they treated us like fools.
Life or death, hit hard on those who sees us as fools!
Peace or pieces, look forward for any watery success!
Race or walk, make your move count in hearts!
We planned to show the world that we are the movie
But fate was faster than our legs, because we got stocked among the Animals called man in busy bush.
Where ever you go or searches my name in the
Forest of men where glory does not last forever;
I have made up my made not to regret any action I have taken with you in our journey of life.
Love does not exist in my mind any more but I
Know it exist in you; it exist in your heart of heart.
We shall see in the other side of life when our death comes, because here we are separated from seeing each other.




(C) John Chizoba vincent
All Right Reserved 2016
Voice Of Vincent

OKONBI HAS GONE MAD AGAIN

Watch his moves, Okonbi has gone mad again;
He is drunk in power of the politician.
Look at his shoes dangling on his head,
His socks on his palm, counting the cars.
Move away from his grip, move away!
He could blind you with his 'Sokoto' that swings here and there.



Okonbi has gone mad again like our husband!
Okonbi said he will go to the sky tomorrow,
Okonbi said he was in the moon yesterday,
Okonbi said he knows the number of hair on his head; yes, Okonbi has gone crazy under our nose.
He said he will beat up his mother and unmask
The thousand evening with his spoken words.



Okonbi has gone into another skin rather than his,
Look at him removing his 'Sokoto' in front of those children!
Okonbi, mother is weeping at the backyard for your sake.
Okonbi! Return to the old fold of sanity where
Manners humble itself to the generational wisdom.
Yesterday saw our deeds and today shall we smile.



Hold Okonbi's hands, hold it with a chain,
Hold his teeth but don't chain it, he will eat with it.
Nature has dealt with us without mercy,
Okonbi, once a magical rain of the rainbow
Saving the knight of the hopeful sky to love
Has gone to the kingdom of flies to fly.



Oh, I weep for that young succulent lad of promise,
Okonbi! Okonbi!! Okonbi!!!
Go not with that madness in methods it does not run in the family blood.
Heaven skips the heartbeat of the sun that shines,
Okonbi! Okonbi!! Okonbi!!!



Our Okonbi has gone mad again since he sat with that governor.
Does madness run in the game of politics?
Hold Okonbi's teeth and fingers which look like tiger' claws; hold it before he demage your eyes!
Okonbi, what substance do they mix in wine for you?
Okonbi has gone mad again like our husband.




(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

MY LAST WISH

When my eyes closes
And the black and white colour gone,
Let not your tears fall but, let verses of words be written to send my soul to its home.


When my legs could not move again and
The blood within has frozen,
Do not let out a deep scream but seal my soul
With a bleeding words that can not be uttered by any tongue.



When my face goes up and my mouth closes
Invite no professional mourners, but call out
The Ohafia maidens and the Nkporo queens
Let them pain my side with a broken verses of poetry
Sing a tattered song that could not be chorused.



When a history without pages is written of me,
A dirge accompanied with a whitish sorrow,
Write off the part of me that is in your heart.
Wipe away my name which you say with a hidden
Tears in your sold eyes.


When the children could not come close
To the log of wood laid face up and back down,
Let none dance from their hearts for me;
For a poet knows his true value when he dies.
Let no grave be dung, let no coffin be bought,
Just put me on the surface of the sinful earth
Let me rot and join others to rejoice.


Flower my side with written poetry,
A spoken words sung by sick poets;
For only a sick poet knows the heart of the dead.
Finger my head with penned emotions,
Caress my frozen brain with a skeletal feelings;
Do not mourn for me, no, do not morn at all.



When the world becomes silent behind me.
A dark image covered my future,
Know you that I am not dead but alive in spirit.
Do not weep for me; for a poet is better in death.
Do not put me in the fridge like a fish, I am not a fish,
No rites should be done, just leave me to go,
Miss me but let me go.


(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

MONKEY ON CLOTHES

Look at that monkey over there!
Can someone tell me what he is wearing?
Is that not an oversize Agbada he's wearing?
Yeaaaah! look at his shoes, are they really shoes?
His 'fila' falling here and there,
Is that how a normal human dresses?


The neck of his Agbada is on his shoulder and
He is putting on the cloth on its back,
The embroiding is visible to his skin.
The sokoto sags to his waist like a prisoner in th US;
Can you see his displayed pants?
Oh! No! Not again.



Can you watch the way he dances without his legs?
Is that how a natural human dance?
Does his teeth looks like that of a man or woman?
Maybe he belongs to the Animatician' Kingdom.


Yeaaaaaah! I have seen his buttock!
He is a monkey with a human buttock!
He is a monkey fashioned from the animal kingdom!
But, I have seen him once in the government house,
He was painted as the president of the country.
So many of them have joined the animal farm!


Oh, oh, oh, oh!
All the money he acquired should have make him better or even finer!
Does he have no mirror in his room?
Hmmmmmmmmh!
I can not put on Agbada again if those
That wears it always look like monkeys.


Watch out for his shoes!
There is gum under it!
Make sure he is thoroughly searched before he leaves otherwise, you will lose all your money to his gummed shoes that he put on.
Those monkeys in your party are wiser than you think.
Once they get hold of your fortune, they embezzle it, so becareful here!



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

I STILL HAVE YOUR SMILE

I STILL HAVE YOUR SMILE


That year in the lighted classroom,
We sat together and parrotted the ABC.
We were the last skin layer of the moon,
We shone brightly to the sky and the people,
Then you gave me your smile to hold for you.


That year behind the Udala tree in my backyard,
I kissed you for the first time without any guilt
and, I showed you the world through my eyes;
You gave me your smile to keep for you in my laughter.
I touched your emotions and feelings gently,
It was the first time I saw you moan diligently.




That year when we went wild in love,
I found comforting restoration in the mounting redness of the woman you are made to be,
You gave me a kiss to hold for you till eternity;
Here is your kiss I still have it on my palms.
The image of the caved love we drew is still here in my heart.



That year I cried white tears for your love,
Tears that tells a lost stories of imperfection.
When I have travelled far in the world' deserts,
When I have climbed the world's highest mountains;
When I closed my eyes before saying your names,
When I have seen what is meant for the eyes
Now, I know you are more than a precious stone.



That year, I still remember that year we dance
Naked under the rain without being ashamed
Of those watching from afar in anger.
You gave me your hope and smile to keep,
I still have them with me in my bosom.
Come take them any time you need them to live.



I live for you the life in your life,
The man in my man lives in your heart.
You are my beat and I am your beat,
Next time you come around my heart again,
You will see those things belonging to you humbly arranged in my heart till you need them to live.
I still have your smile with me till eternity.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

WHITE PAGE OF MY LOVE

She used to live here in my heart before I wrote her that poem again, now she is gone to place unknown.
We used to meet at the crossed road where two love
Lines met, but the lines are uttered with soured lips.


I tried so hard to paint those faces we painted on the clay ground, but the brushes where lost in my mind.
Under the trees where we naked our feelings to the epitomy of the beautiful sun, I sat without a hope of her.


Beside the road yesterday, I hid my tears saying her names to the humans and the breeze that passed by.
We spoke to the grasses, to the buildings with smiles,
Everything about her was the best I have ever seen.
Now she is gone without a word of goodbye because
I wrote her that poem of the famished hearts again.


Speaking to her absence was my first and my heart hurts; hurts to see her go to another man's arms in tears.
My heart still remembers her love and affections,
Standing between lost and want, I wish I could see her again dashing to my arms like a child in joy.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

LAUGH AS LONG AS YOU BREATH

Laugh as much as you breath today,
Love as much as you live, learn as much as you see;
When the blood in your vein shall return to the oceans and the tears in your eyes make it way to the seas, and your spits journey to the underground,
Then shall you not laugh again to be seen by men.



There is no Extra time to everyone, time is important,
Procrastinate not, you are in charge of everything that comes in and out of your body, mind and spirit.
So make every day count in your life and others.
Read as much as you can read in a minute,
Re-learn as much as you can in every seconds,
Time is important, Time is important, no extra time given.



The earth in your bones shall soon return home,
The body you nourish every morning shall soon fade,
The ears shall soon hear no more of the saints,
The eyes shall soon see no more of the whites,
Time is important to the nose, ears and eyes.
Mind what you see in every minutes of the day,
Becareful on what you hear, they might kill you.



The world does not belong to anyone, no!
No one shall be here forever as you think, yes!
We are in a market, you come and buy your own;
After buying you go, and another comes in different form, different design, different idealogy and face.
Time is important! time is important! no extra one!
So do all you have to do tomorrow now!!!



Laugh as much as you breath ' cause, you may laugh no more when the earth turns twenty- twenty and the
Sun turns Thirty-thirty with the moon, then you're gone into the desert bosom of death to rest in peace.
We all belongs to the land, and land, does not belongs to anyone born of a woman on this earth, mind time.



My pen shall speak always to those that cares to listen,
Every morning I wash my tomorrow with today' water not minding the foul scent it gives to my nose.
Who knows that Dollar in Nigeria will turn to four hundred naira in the name of 'Change'?
That is tomorrow for you and more is coming.
Change is inevitable as death is also, brothers they are.
So time is important! time is important! marry your time and make yourself happy!!




(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved '16

K.A- I

Kick against indiscipline; they say,
But they kick against our income;
Kick against the youth's progress,
Kick against the future of our futures,
Kick against the heart that tend good
Rather than kicking against indiscipline.
We still have prostitutes in our streets,
We still have drunkards languishing
Right in the gutters of our streets;
We still have gamblers right beside my nose,
We still have armed robbers parading
And hurting people with their guns and nobody
Is kicking against them in their operations.
What are they kicking against here?
What are they made to kick against there?
We still have boys that have their trousers
Put on their waists, and their pants showing.
We still have fraudsters in their cyber world,
We still have 'YAHOO' boys and girls;
A foregone culture that needs a re-visit.
The gods of our land still weep for a
Change of identities by their children.
Once a glorious country has turned into a dump
Of great nuisance from the animal kingdom.
They Kick against indiscipline but they don't
kick against their pockets that are full of
money which where exploited from us.
They arrest every youth on the street selling,
And jobs are never seen for them to do.
We still have kidnappers right on our doors,
We still have corrupt leaders barking behind,
We still have ritualists with their ego so high;
Are we not in the end time?
Who is deceiving who here in the country?
Men still beat their wives, and, children
Still insult their parents without looking back.
Our education is dead of cultism and cheating,
Sex trade and child abuse are still rampard here,
What are you kicking against, yourself?
Marital problems still blind many of us,
Churches still burn their members and
Some are deceived to perish in hell.
What are you kicking against, friend?




(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

FAMISHED HEARTS

Tell Chinua Achebe
That things just fell apart
Not then when he saw the vision.



We have no Okonkwo in the land any more and
The animals are more in our communities,
George Orwell's Pigs of our century.


They said " All animals are equal in a democratic land but now, we discovered that some are more equal than others in the same democratic country" why?



Our hearts are femished,
Wandering in the empty street in search of nothing
And nothing is seen to eat nor drink in this famished
Lost land called a home, it not a home but forest!



Tell Chinue Achebe
That the vision he saw years back now hurt us more.
The whites are more in power than the days of great Okonkwo; and we are left unclothed in the land.



All we see are famished hearts, famished souls,
A haunting heart that seize the call of grace,
Ignominious!
Ignominious!


Shall the dry bones ever rise again here?
Things has fallen apart in this country and
The center could no longer hold together.
The shoes we wore yesterday,
Now walks on marbles of sorrow.


If wisdom will be a friend to those Pigs,
If suffering will bare no trend against us,
And we forget our plights with the rain,
The mirror will be a better view to connect us
To the world where tomorrow exist in joy.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

DAUGHTER OF AFRICA

Open not your body to the public;
For our culture and tradition forbids it,
Cover those things that need to be covered.
Don't walk like a cat and call it Cat-walk,
It is not done here in African land.


Your mother knows that and should have taught
You that before you mingled with those white skins.
Our culture forbids a woman exposing her chest,
Our tradition forbids a woman chewing gum in the
Presence of the elders without regards for them.



When you exposed that body and every eyes behold it, no man will come to price you at your father' house.
You must not put on those fingers like tiger' claws.
Learn to pound yam in the kitchen and bring your husband's heart at home; for an African Daughter is
Known to capture her husband' heart with food.



Plait not your hair with a mermaid's hair,
It is not culture of Africans, we plait with 'Owu'.
Learn to kneel while greeting your father;
For it is the first rule from the heart of Africa.
You must not stay out late at night and don't club;
For Africans are not known with clubbing in motel.



Sell not your virginity to the men out there,
Virginity stands for greatness among African women.
Daughter of Africa, change your view about Africa,
We are not Monkeys but humans with flesh and blood, and wisdom from the gods and our ancestors.


Our women are made to be pure, holy and skillful,
Not a thing made for the dogs and vagabonds.
Don't imitate those that will lead you to your early grave; for the gods watch every act of stupidity in you.
Daughter of Africa, be the mother not the child.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016

THE DAY JUSTICE DIED

The day peace was imprisoned was
the day I died without death present.
The day mercy was kidnapped, nothing
Was left for us but pains and trouble
Between our teeth that clamours for saliva.
The day justice was murdered we saw injustice;
Injustice that came with a white gown to
Deceive us that we are in THEM-ALL-CRAZY.
Yes, we welcomed him with an Opened teeth
And sold our conscience for a white grey paper.
Who shall look at us again and know us?
We have murdered the future of our tomorrow,
Let's continue without blaming anyone,
We are the architech of our own misfortunes.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent

OUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED

When we were much younger,
We lose sight of the value of time.
We get busy with our lives,
We don't even realise the hours that pass
Into days, weeks, months and years;
We never knew that our days were numbered.



But,
Our health concerns has made us to realise
Our own mortality and the numbered days.
It is this brevity of life that makes time significant,
So becareful how you live your life here,
The wealth you are gathering shall be anothers.



Our days are numbered like goats are numbered,
Our days are numbered like cows are numbered,
Our days are numbered like fishes are numbered
And no one knows how many days he is to live.
Do all you have to do now, tomorrow is too late!



You are not promised tomorrow,
Live your life as if you are not going to see tomorrow.
Do not think you live according to the number of your hair?
No, men have different date, time, and day of death.
Even grasses can live again but man live not forever.



The cloth you are wearing could be your last,
The food you are eating could be your last,
That journey you are about to embark now,
Could be your point of no return today and forever.
That shoes could be the last shoe you wear by yourself,
becareful of your life, you are not the
Owner, the owner lives above.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016