Forever Walking

Walking and walking
You can go nowhere

Stares and frowns
Rushed closed and locked
Doors and hushed voices

What are you doing here?
What am I doing here?
What a bother

Walking and walking
Nowhere you can go

If we talked to everyone
Would we still be alone?

The door’s open
Come in
Have a tea, fix my shower

Life is a series of transactions
But we only fake it half the time
Assuming you can cleave halves and haves

Life is getting screamed at
In a parking lot
Without knowing why

People just want assurance
So shut up
And give it to them

Walking and walking
Forever you can go

There’s so much I know
It feels like I know everything
Until I leave my bed

I want to see you


I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

It’s the thunder
Hear the thunder
So I can greet you

It’s the fire
See the fire
So I can greet you

It’s the mother
Feel her rivers
So I can greet you

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Why are you calling me?
Why would you bother me?

The rumble the rumble roars
The flaming the flaming flares
The serpent the serpent swims
The people the people sing

Tell me tell me your name
And I will dance
Tell me tell me your name
So we can drink

Tell me tell me your name
Earths will open up
Tell me tell me your name
Skys will open up

I do not want
I do not want to fall in
Protect me
Protect me from the edges within

Come come come to me
And we will dance
Come come come for me
So I can dance

Dance dance the darkness out
Dance dance the winds out
Dance dance the devils out
Dance dance misfortunate out

I call on you to stop the shivers
I call on you to hear the moon
I call on you to calm babes’ cries
I call on you when mountains shout

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Good night good night
It’s the night
I want to see you
Tonight tonight

I want to see you TONIGHT!

Thoughts on an Old Man


I think about the old man a lot lately
What must have been going through the head
of that desperate wrinkly hairy sweaty mass
shoveling flesh of flesh blood of blood down his gullet?

Was he thinking about the taste, neither salty nor sweet?
Was he struck by the texture on his teeth?
Was he pondering the world gradually slipping away?
Was he overcome with jealous paranoid relief?

Relief that the future wouldn’t overcome the past
Relief that the taste wasn’t so bad
Relief that the babe hadn’t made too much noise
Relief that salvation exists for those willing to seize it

Did he know who or what he was eating?
Or had he just grown accustomed
to thoughtless alimentary consumption?
there’s no time to look anymore — down it and go

Or had he done it for their own good?
The world belongs to the strong and the brave after all
kids have to learn the facts early on
or they’ll never make it

They’ll never make it
they’ll never make it…

…maybe I’ll ask him one day when I’m strong and brave
after slicing his belly open and tossing him in a cage

Waiting for Kafka

Nobody reads Kafka. It’s a terrible state of affairs. I must be the last man on Earth that’s read him. Just look at this fellow walking by with his dog. Anyone could plainly see he doesn’t read Kafka with a stupid face like that. Or look at the woman in skates covered head to foot in protective gear. She certainly doesn’t read Kafka. And our big men with square chins in glass houses. Although they proffer the occasional sermon on cockroaches, they haven’t read Kafka either.

There’s no refuge from it anywhere.

Not with the coworker you sometimes get a ride from who inexplicably left early today, not with the bus driver who says you need 15 more cents. Not with the little boy who drops his plastic chew toy on the ground and won’t stop crying — there’s no doubt he would sooner gnaw on a book than read one. Not with the girl sitting next to you who gives you a look like you just slurped up a bowl of feces with a spoon after you smiled at her. You can be sure not one of them has read a solitary word of Kafka.

Would they fight wars in the desert if more people read Kafka? Most assuredly not. What about the rain storms? And the starving children? And the perverts? The worms that live in your intestine? All gone, ciao, adios, if only people would read Kafka.


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