Never seen is the faceless truth of law

in the court of flaws devoured by


Truth play dead in the library of


You can’t touch the truth, its a


Inquietude, truth burns lie,

ashes light in weight, it has no

measure on the scale of judiciary

I study the pursuit of anatomy of

iniquity in antiquity. I dissect the

anatomy of life and therein, 

embossed in a cocoon of humility,

the seeds of truth.


Informal Lovers

my thought of you

strikes a harmonic chord

against the rhythm of my

thumping heart; the vibration

lingers on-and-on-and-on.

you’re the music i loved once,

but i just don’t love you

no more.


contradictory to every notion

i know; the motion of my

drum-stick against the tender

drum leads to regret every time

you walk-by.


i see the sunrise and i think

of you; but i just don’t love

you; still you forever remain

with me.


hugging and kissing; memory

lane casts solitary happiness

with no one to share with but



you are my poetry in words, my

regrets be the prose in free verse,

and all i can do is reminiscence

through these walls.


Not a church
girl she was

My poetry is
a metaphor for
the unknown.
Known to
none but me.

Your heart beats
out of bounds infinitely.
Infidelity taunts me.

I see men slamming
her, an’ taking her
to the sewer.

Out goes the
braids, in comes
the weave.

My dignity
is my pride.

It’s hurts
but I never

But I bring
her home for
she’s far
from the usual.

© Dotun Gb | Poems