The Slave Speaks

Normal routine, uploading because formatting just doesn't jive on here. This is NOT, in my opinion close to being finished (in fact I'll be disappointed if anyone thinks this is close, there's a lot that should be done). However, I would like to have opinions on what it means to you, what it's about, and if it seems to have any depth. The more in-depth the review, the better. I really don't care if you like it or not, just have at it.


edit: BIG MISTAKE!!!!!! I mistakenly typed "Nereid" and meant "Moirai". Big mess-up, my apology.

written 3/1/11
reposted 4/16/11

This was enjoyable. I really love this kind of poetry, how unique and creative it is. And it's not easy to produce a good poem with this style. But you did just that, so good job.

My main overall critique would have to be the lack of imagery. Though this definitely has feeling, you need to back it up more. And when you do, the images tend to contradict, or at least not support, the feeling you've established. So. Good work.

-Kafka

FINALLY.
I get to actually see something you wrote. It's crazy. Okay. Anyways. Onto an attempt at a critique.
So, I think I like this. I'm still not entirely decided, but it's definitely intriguing. I'd like to see it finished, once you're all done-- I think it could make an excellent piece, though as of now it could use a bit of work. Lots of nit-picking. Sorry.

I am the slave, &
I am number unwritten in
Father Time's page for souls
never kept; I am, as all slaves,
bred for death ̶
and I do not exist.

Nice blunt beginning. You pull the reader straight it without any hesitation or pretension. Always a refreshing start. I think that the next line feels a bit awkward on the tongue. The concept itself is nice, if a bit overused, but some rewording might be nice, especially if you were to throw an article right before "number". Articles are nice. Also, the phrase "never kept" feels a bit awkward to me. I associate that phrase with something more like promises, though the concept you've given us isn't like a promise, unless you mean number as in death/some sort of limit. Then, you need to clarify. Either way, some reworking is needed.
Great last line. Or rather, last two and half lines.

I am in textbooks &
old
old
old things,
called memories taken to the grave.
I am in the blood of the white & black,
that boils & simmers behind closed eyes & open hearts,
And I am the tapestry skin flapping in the wind to eternal Nike;

Love the first line and repetition. You might consider avoiding the "white & black" though, as it deals with the theme quite a bit and feels a bit like it's really blunt phrasing, especially when you use the word "skin" two lines down. Nice contrast in "closed eyes and open hearts" though. The reference to Nike feels a bit odd in this context-- you reference gods further down in the poem in different context, and I think it works much better there. This feels too repetitive when coupled with that.

praise to my Master for rescuing
me; the
bastard brute,
from primitive roots.
And I am his loyal dog in battle as he forever herds still more cattle,
their cries like lulling of cows in heat (thick barbarian bleats), &
my Master alone, bearded/wizened/bolt in hand, called
Zeus, Odin, God, and King of Man bestows a title upon
the slave: the eternal son of Ham. And I am the slave, and I shall
praise him for eternity for we are nothing in his greater scheme & plan.

Despite my unsureness about the Nike reference, I do like how you coupled it in with the Master being seen as a God. It's primarily the repetition of this image that bothers me, because I actually really love the way you've worded it. Nice language afterwards as well, though I think that you could probably come up with something better than "loyal dog" as a metaphor. Also, the simile "like lulling of cows in heat" is much too similar to cattle to work for me. I do like the phrase in parantheses, but the imagery right there isn't really working for me overall. I love the next part, with the different gods, especially with the very nicely placed reference to the son of Ham-- adds an interesting layer to this piece.

I ̶ am the Master;
Every god, every name, whom never sleeps
And never dreams, for all that is I come to be
And never a thought escapes from me, but comes
From the Moirae string I weave and weave and in my
Hands I bend or break or cut and take, for no mortal living
Is not a slave to the faceless, endless, Master, ̶ I am Fate.

First of all, I adore this structure. It jarred me at first, but the side-to-side format is perfect once I realized that you were talking from two different perspectives.
I would get rid of the hyphen, Em stroke thingy after "I". The next three lines are needlessly awkward sounding, and could be written to be much clearer/effective. I love the reference to Moirae, but I would remove the word "and" and maybe make the wording a more precise again. Also, I would make "I am Fate" another line by itself, and make a full stop after "Master".

I, am the slave ̶
do you hear my
Master speak? He has left me, I am free.
I am a slave, and I will never lose my Master's faith.
But could it
trulybetheend?
For I know nothing but what he speaks,
and I am but a fool who cannot think!
I am ̶ the slave[?]
Yet, my Master loves ̶
me[?] ̶ I know.

This is where I feel like you started to lose your consistent tone. The formatting gets too broken up (not that you can see it here, but you know what I mean). The language is a bit different as well, and the flow is entirely changed. I'm assuming that you're trying to slowly center the work in order to show some stability developing or something, but don't leave it so spread out. Keep it condensed as you had it, and maintain the style of line breaks you had before.
You did that weird thing again where you put a comma after the very first "I". I would put "Master speak on the last line and let the rest of that line be by itself.
The part about his Master speaking and leaving him seem kind of unrelated to one another. If they're dependent on one another or something, clarify. Also, taking in what the slave says about his predicament and dependence on the Master, I doubt that he would use the word "free". I'd suggest finding a stronger word with negative connotations to convey his dismay.
Another thing--"Trulybetheend" was a bit confusing for me at first, because it's all squished together, and looks like it's some archaic term at first glance. I would recommend playing with this formatting a bit. Maybe you could do something like trulybethe...end? or something. I'm sure you can come up with something much better than that, but you get my point. I actually started writing this about how you made up a word before I read it again for like the fourth time, and realized that I was being stupid. The stops in that last little bit are increasingly awkward. I assume that the question marks are not part of the formatting? If they are, I strongly recommend you remove them.

And I am now an old man, and I am waiting for the Master's guiding hand
As he left me alone so very long ago, and I am the slave, whose Master
left, long ago,
to wait for Death.

This is built mostly out of repetition. You've drawn a lot of phrases from earlier on up in your poem and thrown them in here, and it almost feels alike a concluding paragraph. Which isn't entirely a good thing. I don't think it's awful, and I know this isn't the end, but I would recommend throwing something new into this, as the only two new things we get are the images of "an old man" and "waiting for Death". Now, these are both extremely powerful images, and I don't think you've utilized them as well as you could have, especially with the character you've developed.

Overall, I think that you definitely have a nice piece going on here. With some work, I really think it could be excellent. You have some parts that are unnecessarily awkward and some conflicting/repetitive images, but other than that, great job. I love the concept, and you're definitely doing it justice. If you have any questions or anything, please don't hesitate to ask. And, if and when you finish this, feel free to throw it my way.

Thank you both. It's not always possible for me to get out of my own head, especially when I start writing more "conventionally". Nonetheless, there are points in both which I will certainly take notice of, as this was a test to write a one page poem as powerful as I could in less than twenty minutes of prepared time (I wrote it at about twenty). The magazine I intend to send this to one takes a poem per page, and nothing more. :/ So I'll see what can be done. (the magazine is on campus here and always gets dreadfully tame, boring junk. So I thought I'd send them something charged)

I think it'll expand, and I could make separate parts. Thank you both.

A slave speaking. Until now I hadn't yet come across a poem that revolved around a topic as such. You're skilled at encapsulating fascination without making your words so foreign to the reader that it has them stumbling away. Although, what did you aim to achieve by writing this having it be read? "I want people to know the story of those that were considered lesser." or perhaps "I want to write this because I want to." Because when you think about your poem in terms of a tally chart on a chalkboard that tells you something, it doesn't seem to be about a slave 'speaking' but rather, reminiscing. It seems as if you're trying to appeal to your audience as well as grabbing at the past with your other hand and drawing them together so that they meet, or face each other from where they stand at parallels. You create something static. Something that does not 'speak' but something that is a medal - proud, a token of what was.

I am in the blood of the white & black,
that boils & simmers behind closed eyes & open hearts,
And I am the tapestry skin flapping in the wind to eternal Nike;
praise to my Master for rescuing

Lucidity, the first line of this excerpt rings concentrated with it. The next few lines in its section seem to attempts to make up for the jarring jolt that slams your legs down on the ground. 'that boils & simmers behind closed eyes & open hearts' - I like the concept, dislike the execution of it. Behind closed eyes? Pride? Open hearts, hm. In another poem, maybe, well, yes it'd work but not here. You've managed to create an intricate fabric in which each stitch must be on par, the same colour and the same breadth, as the last. That's why I don't really like poems that jump straight in with the whole circus act because it never builds up to anything. I'd suggest creating your foundation first and then quickly building up to the kind of material that's in the last lines of this excerpt. It'd be like an unraveling of the gut, like: 'this is who I am and this is what happened and this is me coming undone as I attempt to tell you what I'm made of.'

me; the
bastard brute,
from primitive roots.
And I am his loyal dog in battle as he forever herds still more cattle,

The first three lines seem to be a chanting of sorts. Similar to a child, the kind of 'I repeat what I hear.' Then 'I am his loyal dog in battle' is inserted. Was this slave born into slavery? Because that'd appear to be the only way a mentality of this origin could have been born. Constant reminders of who you are. You are this to me. You are that to me. No matter the value of what the master says, if it's been said many times and long enough then it'll be taken into the mind of the slave as a given. I say this because the way the slave refers to himself is unnerving. And I wouldn't want you to change it because it's a type of child-like carelessness in the way he refers to himself that you don't often see around anymore. But it is jarring to the reader, so I think background on how he came to be what he is would benefit. Either that, or doubt. The doubt conflicting with what the slave has been told. 'This is who I am supposed to be and I do not understand it.' Relative reasoning.

I ̶ am the Master;
Every god, every name, whom never sleeps
And never dreams, for all that is I come to be
And never a thought escapes from me, but comes
From the Nereid string I weave and weave and in my
Hands I bend or break or cut and take, for no mortal living
Is not a slave to the faceless, endless, Master, ̶ I am Fate.

You're stressing the line between the slave and the master. You're also creating a generality. 'every God, every name' - it is much easier to tell me that the master is all that is superior rather than comparing him to something omniscient, isn't it? But I suppose the strict form doesn't really allow for elaboration. What's odd about the master narration is that his words are hollow. He says all that is expected. I am a master. I am the equivalent of God - to that which I enslave. You scrape the hollows of who he is but you do not fill in the gaps. Yes, in this poem he is just a master and not a brother or a friend or someone who gave an old lady a smile in passing, but I think hinting at any possible humanisation of him would add another layer to this. Perhaps that's what doesn't sit right with me. The master in the eyes of the slave, it's almost patriotic. The master is the slave's flag. That who he lives for. As if his life is because of it. But all of this is executed with skill so it seems intentional. I guess the jarring is nice when you get into the poem.

As he left me alone so very long ago, and I am the slave, whose Master
left, long ago,
to wait for Death.

The ending is my favourite part. The repetition of 'long ago' work well. I want to read it again and again. I would love it if you'd elaborate on the last line. You created that layer I talked about in my previous paragraph with your ending line. But it stops there, which is both mysterious and frustrating, because I'd like to read more but I'm falling short and unable. I didn't have any problems with the format. I enjoyed it. Each fragment seems to be a a broken time period ahead. In parts, the poem was blunt, much too blunt for consistency. You could say most of the poem was redundant because it's from the point of view from a slave instead of slave as a generality, when they're really not supposed to be distinct or have their own voice. But then, how would poetry come about? This is more of an evaluation of my thoughts than anything. Hopefully it helps.