My father’s son is the ultimate bastard.
Sired by three fathers and two mistresses.
Sowed at a brothel in the ghetto.
On three nights, dank and drunk.

But he’s also a monk
His temple on Kilimanjaro is grand.
With loud quietude from coherent humming.
His disciples wear green leaves and thick barks.

Father and son.  Photo credit:

Father and son. Photo credit:

I did tell you he’s a misfit.
My father’s son drinks ales like fish,
Puff smokes like the steel mill furnace.
And knows the flavours of whores by sight.

He was never on any airplane.
But my father’s son has been to places.
Captured by map or imagination,
He mentored Gulliver, Alice and Apollo.

My father’s son has got some loose nuts
Doctor said it’s “delusion of Napoleonic grandiose”
He’s skipped his med for a while.
Did I also tell you he’s a poet?




Rasheed Otegbola was born and attended elementary school in Lagos. He obtained a degree in Pharmacy from the University of Ibadan in 2014. He does creative arts and write poetry for recreation. His poems are inspired by fear and passion. He is happily married.



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