Reaction 5: "Little Birdy" and "The True Slave"

This week I would like to talk about how the term “race” does not make sense and at the same time, truly upsets me. It makes me realize how ignorant the world is. From one person’s perspective race could be identified as separation of genes, inherent in the subject’s species. But for a wide majority, it seems, race applies to a species as well.

In the early 1900’s an extremely interesting movement occurred: The Harlem Renaissance. It brought to life ideas of race, and how, as Langston Hughes put it, “blacks” should be proud of their race and not try to be so “white.” The flaw here, in my opinion (and particularly today) is that we are all one race. All Human. All Homo Sapien.

Needless to say, the struggle with these weeks poetry have been emotional and at a deeply painful surge of doubt. I want a stronger, better future of people, of humanity. And thus, I hope you will enjoy my inspiration for today’s poems: “Little Birdy” and “The True Slave”



“Little Birdy”

Within the mind’s eye
Eye’s I, I see,
Sits a little birdy,
I, with an eye, see.
Look a little closer,
Birdy, birdy, birdy.
Caught yourself in the net.
Eye, I, my eye sees.

Left alone little birdy,
And soon the world free.



“The True Slave”



Slavery is made of madness,
Madness found within sadness,
And sadness found within madness.
But slave madness is not sadness,
Nay it is but ill madness.

The True Slave is total madness,
Compelled by only sadness,
But what is the true slave?
Nothing but madness and sadness.

The world speaks with broken lips,
But nothing upon which it can kiss.
Subtle, seductive, slowly serpentine,
Slavery soothes sleepless sours.
True Slavery eats up all hours.

Lost in a puzzle of the mind,
Deciding what is truly kind.
Madness and sadness overrun,
In a world of forgot Sons.
The True Slave awaits.