Black Snow (a poem)

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

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Mr. Franz Kafka (graphic art)

More graphic art! I took this Wikimedia Commons image of Franz Kafka and played around with it. I like the spirals in the background, and the red hue was my favorite of the colors.