Free Slaves Poem by Kassim Mohammed Ahmed

am drowned in thought

so hardly

am thinking, silly

silly it's a naught

like my mind is lost

and efforts to drag it home,

unyielding

and am wielding

some cunning ever known



am simple

a complex simplicity

and emotions in plain duplicity

trying my best to be humble



Am possibly crazy

but sane

a potential madman, maybe

am twain

with a joyful anger

shall my cheeks be smiling

a pleasant countenance ever

then the true self a hiding



is earth home?

what shall I, but drone...

and am not solo, for

it's but a trial for all

life is queer

to the layman

and the seer

like we see by aid of the sun



I've wondered

abbreviation is a long word

the better, the least said

if my neighbor wears a smile, my life is not wasted



life is but an example, thus

of another if its the faith

or guide us through such

that we may find a later date

its simple

and complex

it's least of a raffle

more of a test



what you see is

least of what is, and

the unseen, this

ginnel between living and the end

where do we go from here?

shall we walk Earth a second

another form, higher or mean, and

with joy or attain the purport with fear?



or shall a self within

be punished for the deeds of the flesh

as the teaching

and to it as are we raised from earth.





did it escape Yehowa?

that we now share the Christ with the house of Isreal

Mohammed with the deserts of Arabia, or however

is this for our race a trial?

or that we have been blind

waking now to our own, undermined

and agreed for others' as priestcraft

and ours- fetish, with witchcraft



we have been supposedly free a decades

and now slavery is voluntary, as

their superficial sentimentality at that

and when we fall for our heads to their blades



we are still slaves

no! we are free

we are free slaves

for we are bonded, and we are free

we sang patriotic songs

and wrote poems, long

and sent the slave master to the seas

but he handed his fetters, and whip

to our leaders, and the chiefs

now we are free slaves, asking no right than peace



we sing new melodies

and hail their praises

they disturb our peace

handing us the piece

when shall we be truly free

and our kids be sure of a full life

what is the warranty, to see

sunlight tomorrow, and not a bunch of roses

for wreath upon our graves

and the sympathizers lined up for similar doses