Samsa

I am Kafka,
 hear me crawl.
In my cage
   enjoying this ball
Spinning round to make rust squeal
Embrace the beauty of this wheel

Kill the Poet

Kill the Poet

Let us kill this poet, for
He can’t act nor show it
Only daze and dream until he rots downstream, to
Linger and then breach
at the root of his seed
What good does he serve us?
[as man]
Just where does he stand?

Or better yet,
will he even change our world today?
in all his strange, radical ways?
All they really tend to do
Is distract me and you
From the impending,
[unread truth]
That every man ropes his own noose

Selfish Sun

I remember when planets were young
We were parading ‘round a selfish sun
Who cried as we cooked below

Absorbed in silence, we steal his rays
Made solar power from rainy days
So we can thank him once he fades

When will he seclude
Something tells me it’s too soon
Is it the look on your face
Or mere clouds, shedding gloom


Their presence shifts in time
While stars form strange lines
Millions of years, now only phase
For we stand in the White Dwarf’s way

He’ll age and grow humble
As cities freeze, then crumble
For his cries are now mumbles
Shining now ever so subtle