I was a passion fruit until taken

against my will, and scattered like

common corn with no cob in a foreign

soil to toil


I am one, with every creak and turn

of the slave ship. I no longer fear them;

I have grown accustomed.





Kin of historical slaves

For every kin,  for every kingdom

Slavery and freedom I see

Tear embedded in the very words I script


Slavery and freedom, for every kin

My words are enslaved to my emotions

To whom shall I ask for recompense

Shall I blame the thick lips who sold

me to the thin lips

Or is just destiny mutating badly


I say, my world is enslaved by fear

For every kin,  for every kingdom

Freedom and slavery I see





Naira, Viva Africa

Denomination of the largest

at the lowest


Proudest citizen

gripen by the largest



Broad-day light

zombie in reverse

rehearse mutiny


Women are my inspiration,

desperation to acquire them all

like a precious jewel


Afrobeat taunts my

heartbeat to the melancholy

melodramatic beat of Fela


Visionary at the expense of aids

Smoke in my windpipe; my

intelligence is ripe

My rough edges smooth from



Marriage, an initiation with no

benefact. Tactical act to defy

simplicity of partnership


Marriage, love age like natural

substance with no expiry



YBP – Young Black Poet. (Part. 1)

Play me for a fool and I’ll lose my cool.
In a pool game of five balls; the fool
who hit the white-ball is he who gets
played by the cat on the Empire State Building.

Give me the mic let me recite my
plight tonight; my fight for freedom
with my might and power. In my
kingdom, diamond sparklingly
thoughts lights the room full of dark faces.

Acknowledge and represent;
I am the dark faces of my people!
In this place I trace my race to the roots,
from branches to stem.

Homeland security have me feeing
ruthless. Insanity blurred to sanity.
My knife blunt from trials of vanity.

Martin Luther King; Africa home to
Kings and Queens; we were leaders before we were followers.
We were conquerers before we were conquered.

Gold in the purest of form.
Beauty in the roughest of form,
dangerously lurking in danger.
Africa! Forever beautiful does she
remain in her blossom form.
I lay my head in your bosom and
wait for the day to see you again.


Through the ages of time I
have seen it all from the rise
and fall of empires, to the
rise and fall of great men.

Through the ages of time my
people suffer with lack of
knowledge, they die in vain
regressively imperialised
with lack of knowledge.

Through the ages of time,
greed ever present, jealousy
ever present, vanity ever

Through the ages of time I
see suppression and imperial
colonialism in Africa, Asia,
Native Americans
and Aborigines of Australia.

Through the ages of time I see
the control and exploitation of
power through capitalism
I see the;
Portuguese Era
British Empire
Spanish Era
French Era
Dutch Era
Ottoman Era
Roman Empire
Arabian Era
Greek Era

Through the ages of time I
see slaves as tools and toys
for the purpose of supremacy.
I see slavery as false mercantilism,
I see slavery as supply on demand
for brutal purposes.

Through the ages of time I see
slavery as mirage and cracked fragment of a beautiful mirror.
I see slavery as the pioneer of
socialism through equality.
I see slavery in modern, as
glossed and blunt to perfection,
to meet the dull eye of the modern society.

Through the ages of time I see
slaves die without the chance
to reproduce themselves.
I see supply of new slaves to the
new world for plantation

Through the ages of time
Do you see what I see ?

© Dotun Gb | Poems


Who am I ?

A compound of Oyo-Empire
I’m creole not pidgin.
Phonetically beautiful are
my sons and daughters.
descendants of Yoruba;
Oduduwa the ancestor.

I rose from the root of
diaspora, a fugitive to your
eyes, touch, and nose.

I have been, and remain still;
through the remnants of time.
I have been everywhere,
over the Atlantic in a vessel
where I remain untouched by the
roughness of the sea nor by the
burden of turmoil on the
cotton field.

I play on your tongue, so they’ll
recognise you as one. I’m the
curator, the voice in your head,
your tongue the judiciary

I am no figurine, but I’m a figure
of symbol of hope. Ask the slave master they will attest.

I am strong they needed my
strength for economic
capitalism. I’m strong they worked
me to the death but I survived still.

They swallowed me in hope to
digest like Jonah and the whale,
but I revolted sour in their
mouth; burnt their tongue, scald
their gum, and turn their teeth black.

who am I ?
A born again infant made king,
feeding on past experiences
to build a socialist future

© Dotun Gb | Poems


Success through
oppression. The
great King of Egypt
perfected it with
the Israelites.

Two faced similitude
coined by African
parents through their
lacklustre words.

Words sharper than
the tip of an arrow,
piercing through my
skin reaching
for my heart.

Misguided and misinformed
they guide to perfection
words of suppression,
suffocating my hopes
and dreams.

But unknown to the
young bewildered heart,
they oppress not, but
only for my cause, for
the day I rise to become
the Phoenix.

© Dotun Gb | Poems

Educated Corrupted blacks


Educated Corrupted blacks…

Empathise for me, empathise for my brothers and sisters

who were killed in the struggle for my freedom

Would you please empathise for the

educated blacks who won’t make it home.

Did you wrong, mother Africa and I am sorry.

Never did I envisioned we will stray apart this long,

but these corrupted blacks are to be blamed.

United we are strong, but verily these corrupted blacks

stay strongly united in their corruption.

Undoubtedly you are always on my mind, but somehow

your memory fades on me the more I stay in this foreign land.

Can you not see I will forever miss your love, can you not see

how these corrupted blacks are tearing apart my beloved you.

Can you not see I can never return to you again….

© Dotun Gb | Poems



Juba | juba | Jubba


I say Juba

but I can’t


nothing other

than  juba.

I visit Jubba

and now I fully


the beauty of


© Dotun Gb | Poems