History is a funny thing

deconstructed it’s his-story

Is this the story we want to pass to the next generation?

Our journey starts deep in Africa

we come from Nigeria,



Liberia Zaire

to the USA







We came by boat

across the atlantic oceans on ships

packed with Africans chained

and bound in the hold of that big boat

pissing and shitting upon themselves

the weak and dead tossed into the ocean

like spoiled cargo

The ocean holds our people’s bones

we owe the ocean a debt.

Those who made it across the death-bed

worked in sugar and cotton plantations

as house boys and girls

yard boys and girls

they assumed the masters’ names

they were their property branded and stamped

so there could be no confusion

We still bear that stamp we still carry foreign names

that speaks to that unspeakable history.

The struggle for freedom continues in the body politic

in the mind sinews in the mental hues

are we still following the colonial cues clues to appease

and please to keep us in our place.

Slavery is not in the body

it’s in the mind

you have  to find the key

understand the psychology of the caged bird

that refused to fly

even when perched high