The blown flowers fell and filled my lap
And the sensation was so strange,
Like being sucked into a dream
That was not my own, but the
trances of hermits in open
Fields filled with many suns
I am my father’s son, I know,
Because I refuse to believe what
mass media tells me,
Advertisements soak my skull
Like bloody sponges, secreting
Trivial information and data
Collected by régime clerks
Kafka sat on shores, forevermore,
Never dying, but living in
Our imaginations and never
Reaching the castle – I can relate,
It’s getting late, I must be going,
I have a date with God’s widow
Seeing a showing of mountains
Covered with black snow.
Author’s Note: The first line of this poem is from Li Bai’s poem “The Solitude of Night.”
(Photo from Wikimedia Commons – A Lonely Farm [Hawkridge] by Robert Polhill Bevan, 1900)
Well done. Bravo.
Thank you!
Amazing piece, Nick. Love it! The image of black snow has never crossed my mind. Thanks for opening me up to this concept.❤️
Thank you!
My pleasure.💕
This poem clicked with me, with advertisements and data clerks. Those messages that tell us how to be happier by buying this thing. And data being collected on us. Those are parts of the modern life. Kafka was effective on showing maddening systems that are shoved on to us. Also, I’m reading “Kafka on the Shore” by Haruki Murakami, so Kafka’s been on my mind.
Thanks, Dave! Kafka is one of my favorites and, I agree, he was a master of showing the terrors of bureaucracy. If he were alive today, I’m sure he’d have much to say about Big Data!