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The New Broom

Struggles
A Cockroach
Hides
From Human beings!

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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

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Tibetan Prayer

'om mani padme hung,
om mani padme hung...'

may all beings be freed from suffering.
may all beings breathe as one.
may all beings live in peace.
may all beings learn to give.
may all beings walk in unity.
may all beings walk in forgiveness.
may all beings lay down their weapons.
may all beings be fed and have shelter.
may all beings know they are loved.
may all beings join hands.
may all beings live in awareness.
may all beings be freed from suffering.

'om mani padme hung,
om mani padme hung...'

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Remember Struggles From The Bottom

Pick up those feet and leap!
Believe you can conquer,
Over obstacles to defeat.
With a beating done to erase and cease.

Remember struggles from the bottom.
Know what was done to step away from it.
Never settle for the minimum.
And,
Resist to have your confidence dismissed.

Pick up those feet and leap!
Believe you can conquer,
Over obstacles to defeat.
With a beating done to erase and cease.

Remember struggles from the bottom.
Know what was done to step away from it.
Never settle for the minimum.
And,
Resist to have your confidence dismissed.

Remember struggles from the bottom.
And
Resist to have your confidence dismissed.
Know what was done to keep your dreams focused.

Remember struggles from the bottom.
Know what was done to step away from it.
Never settle for the minimum.
And,
Resist to have your confidence dismissed.
Resist to have your confidence dismissed.

Remember struggles from the bottom.
With a boosted confidence.
Remember struggles from the bottom.
With a boosted confidence.
Remember struggles from the bottom.
With a boosted confidence.
Remember struggles from the bottom.

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Cockroach

Sitting in the sunshine
Sipping cheap wine on a bed
Salsa in the summer
Some tequila for my head
Just take me home, just take me home (Just take me home)
I love the winter, winter, yeah yeah
Give me a phone, give me a phone (Give me a phone)
The operator
Red eyes in the sunshine
Sipping cheap wine on a bed
Salsa in the summer
Casanovas walk the stretch
Just take me home, just take me home (Just take me home)
I love the winter, winter, yeah yeah
Give me a phone, give me a phone (Give me a phone)
The operator, yeah yeah yeah
Just take me home, just take me home, just take me home
Cockroach, cockroach, cockroach, cockroach...
Sitting in the sunshine
Some tequila for my head
Just take me home, just take me home (Just take me home)
I love the winter, winter, yeah yeah
Give me a phone, give me a phone (Give me a phone)
The operator, yeah yeah yeah
Just take me home, just take me home (Just take me home)
I love the winter, winter, yeah yeah
Give me a phone, give me a phone (Give me a phone)

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The Scorpion and The Cockroach

It was in a cleanly washed jam jar that Frank put them in,
he wanted to know which would survive, which one would win.
The scorpion wasted no time as it arched its back and struck,
but the cockroach quite unaffected, for a way out it did look.

The roach disliked being attacked and tried to climb the jar’s side,
but the glass was too steep and smooth, and so it couldn’t hide.
Repeatedly it tried to climb the jar, but it fell upon its back
and so the scorpion launched another ferocious attack.

The cockroach tried desperately to become upright once again,
as the scorpion’s venomous tail tried to strike the roach’s brain.
With a flick of its sturdy wings the roach became upright,
but still it didn’t resist attack, or put up a fight.

The battle weary scorpion grew tired of attacking its foe
and ceased hostilities at least for a moment or so.
But then the cockroach became hungry and had a desire to eat,
so approached the scorpion and nibbled at its feet.

This act of war enraged the scorpion and so it attacked again,
but the roach never flinched and gave no sign of pain.
The scorpion was exhausted and couldn’t attack any more,
it collapsed breathing deeply on the glass jar floor.

The roach attacked the tail the part with the deadly sting
and severed off a large piece to show who was king.
As the ravenous roach gorged itself on the fresh food supply
the scorpion panicked and gave escaping another try.

Frantically running around the jar at high speed it went
until it suddenly stopped, all its energy was spent.
Meanwhile the busily eating cockroach paid it no mind
this scorpion was going nowhere until mealtime.

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Human Beings

Human being beings are strange in being human,

Strange in love and art and vice,

Strange in being nice

Human beings are strangers in the night

Lights shining on a starry night

No sooner blinked out they are gone

A stranger in the human race

Keeping up keeping face,

Moving on

In crowds and queues and buses

Walking alone at ten

Human beings in being human

Make the strangest men

Not easy to be read,

Or clothed or fed

Or put to bed

Each thought entwined

Lives over signed overlapped

Smaller beings kept but not as 'pets'

Sometimes feel 'trapped'

For human beings are best when left at sea

Frantic firey disordered unchained set free


Their limpet souls make rocks their strange security

For love for life for space,

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Human Beings

It is only love I feel
That will give us peace of heart
In my hour of desperate need
I feel closer to the one
Oh but why...
Please
Human being
If you bleed
they will say it was destined
They'll be punchin' tickets
By the minute if you fall out of line
desperate
desperate
Tell me is it death you feel
That will bring you peace of life.
Who wants
Tell me you're one of us
Tell me you're one
Tell me you're one of us
Tell me you're one
When you lose your self esteem
That's when love dies...
Ohhh...
Please human being
If you bleed
They will say that it's destined
They'll be punchin' tickets
By the minute if you fall out of line
We're mere human beings we die
So...
So...destined desperate
Well I feel
When you've reached number one
You look like you're puffing but
Really only blocking the sun...
Blocking the sun
Blocking the sun
We're mere human beings
We die
It's destined
They'll be punchin' tickets
By the minute you fall out of life
We're mere human beings we die
We're mere human beings we die
Desperate
It's destined
We're mere human beings we die
desperate
it's destined
destined

[...] Read more

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Natural Powers Of Human Beings

Every human being living on planet earth possess some basic powers
The basic powers include powers to think, select, reason, decide,
Invent, produce, feel, create, construct, write and make choices
All the above powers have their positive and negative manifestations

Those human beings who are spiritually undeveloped exhibit
Some negative powers such as hatred and disgust, jealousy and envy
Hypocrisy and duplicity, selfishness and egotism, as well as insincerity

The spiritually developed human beings display positive powers like
Compassion and kindness, love and affection, charity and philanthropy
Reverence for life, altruism and self-sacrifice, optimism and buoyancy

Some human beings demonstrate extraordinary powers of intuition
Metaphysicians classify the powers of intuition as part of the sixth sense
The power of intuition is the ability to know without thinking
Answers and solutions come naturally to those who have these powers

Few human beings exhibit the astonishing powers of premonition
The power of premonition is the power of forewarning
This is the power to know that something has happened without been told
It is the power to know an event is about to occur before it actually does
Mystics categorize the powers of premonition as part of the sixth sense
As it is popularly said – to be forewarned is to be forearmed
Premonition is one of special powers human beings can possess

A number of individuals display the amazing powers of telepathy
Telepathy is the science of mind-to-mind communication
It is also the power to know what your neighbors are thinking about
Some folks refer to telepathy as a branch of clairvoyance
Few people say telepathy is part of E.S.P – extrasensory perception
Whatever may be your own definition of telepathy
It is an incredible power any human being can possess

All the above mentioned powers are not magical powers
The powers are available to all human beings to access
Please enjoy your life, good luck and happy destiny

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Saturated In a Marination

'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '

Ignorance for what it is,
Is a most difficult thing...
For one to overcome!
Not everyone can resist this pull.
Not all are prone,
To sit alone in isolation.
To satisfy a thinking sensation!

'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '

And that's what it takes,
To break from the commonness of it!

Ignorance can be comforting.
Especially when so many,
Have been bred and born to feed on it.
Saturated in a marination...
Seeped with ingredients,
That produce clowns to fool around.
Displaying condoned qualities of misfits.

'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '

Is it an illness...
Ever to be cured?
And chased away from its endurance?
Ever to be blocked and knock out...
Never to regain a need for it to remain unchanged?

'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '

Ignorance can not be that deep of an affliction!
Why is it so craved?
Why is it chosen...
To wallow in and stay?

'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '

[...] Read more

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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth

Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.

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Byron

Canto the Fourth

I
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.

II
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man, -- and, as we would hope, -- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this -- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.

III
As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow,
And wish'd that others held the same opinion;
They took it up when my days grew more mellow,
And other minds acknowledged my dominion:
Now my sere fancy "falls into the yellow
Leaf," and Imagination droops her pinion,
And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.

IV
And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'T is that I may not weep; and if I weep,
'T is that our nature cannot always bring
Itself to apathy, for we must steep
Our hearts first in the depths of Lethe's spring,
Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep:
Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx;
A mortal mother would on Lethe fix.

V
Some have accused me of a strange design
Against the creed and morals of the land,
And trace it in this poem every line:
I don't pretend that I quite understand
My own meaning when I would be very fine;
But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd,
Unless it were to be a moment merry,
A novel word in my vocabulary.

[...] Read more

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Byron

Don Juan: Canto The Fourth

Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.

But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man,- and, as we would hope,- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.

As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow,
And wish'd that others held the same opinion;
They took it up when my days grew more mellow,
And other minds acknowledged my dominion:
Now my sere fancy 'falls into the yellow
Leaf,' and Imagination droops her pinion,
And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.

And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'T is that I may not weep; and if I weep,
'T is that our nature cannot always bring
Itself to apathy, for we must steep
Our hearts first in the depths of Lethe's spring,
Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep:
Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx;
A mortal mother would on Lethe fix.

Some have accused me of a strange design
Against the creed and morals of the land,
And trace it in this poem every line:
I don't pretend that I quite understand
My own meaning when I would be very fine;
But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd,
Unless it were to be a moment merry,
A novel word in my vocabulary.

To the kind reader of our sober clime
This way of writing will appear exotic;
Pulci was sire of the half-serious rhyme,
Who sang when chivalry was more Quixotic,
And revell'd in the fancies of the time,

[...] Read more

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Almost Human

Ahh, ha
Im almost human, cant help feelin strange
The moon is out, I think Im gonna change
Youre so smooth and tender, a living, breathing dream
Ive got to have you, baby, Im listenin for your scream
Im almost human, Im almost a man
Im almost human, ooh
Im almost human, baby please dont run away
cause wherever you run, Ill be a scream away
Im very hungry and youre what Im thinkin of
Ooh baby, baby, baby, so hungry for your love
Im almost human, oh, almost a man
Im almost human, whoo
Im very hungry and youre what Im thinkin of
Ooh baby, baby, baby, so hungry for your love
Im almost human, Im almost a man
Im almost human, Im almost human
Im almost human, Im almost human
Im almost human, almost, almost, almost a man
Im almost human
Almost, almost, almost, almost, almost, almost human
Im almost human, Im almost human
Im almost human, almost a man
Im almost human, almost, almost, almost
Im almost human

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Human Touch

Everybodys talking to computers,
Theyre all dancing to a drum machine
I know Im living on the outside
Scared of getting caught between
Im so cool and calculated alone in the modern world
But sally has a hard time holding back
The alley to her heart is a beaten track
Shes got the love monkey riding on her back
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need the human touch
We all need it, and I need it too
You know, I got my walls, sally calls them prison cells
Sometimes I need protection, Ive got the chains
I got the warning bells
I sit so snug and isolated alone in the modern world
But sally has a hard time holding back
The alley to her heart is a beaten track
Shes never out of love, yeah shes got the knack
Youve got love I want it, come on girl
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need the human touch
We all need it, and I need it too
Human touch
Human touch
Human touch
Human touch
Im so scared and isolated in the modern world
We all need
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need it, and I need it too
Human touch

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My Beauty Hides

my beauty hides behind walls and lies.
she calls out but quites as the blade presses against my thighs.
my beauty hides behind mistakes and tears.
she smiles and pretends but she cant awake from her worst fears.
my beauty hides behind regret and envy.
she screams and claws because she wishes she was anyone but me.
my beauty hides behind broekn promisesand never.
doesnt she know i will always hide her forever?
my beauty hides behind never ending darkness and blame.
time flies but she wont ever be the same.
my beauty hides behind long shirts and tired eyes.
she use to be able to fly high and touch the skies.
but now my beauty hides..

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The Hidden Poem With In Us

Poetry hinds behind the very tears we shed
It hides in the very pain we feel
It hides deep inside our locked emotions
When you feel confused there a poem hiding with all the answers
Poetry hides in the shadows that follow you around
It hides in the mumbling sound of our depressed voices
it hides in the locked up anger we all have
Poetry hides in the voices in our mind that is put on mute
Poetry hides behind the secrete window in our minds we painted black
But the thing about poetry is that it seems to be playing a game of hide-and-seek
But in reality it just waiting to be unleashed and told
It lies dormant locked up in chains we created our selves
We just got to let it free and let it tell its story

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The Course of Time. Book I.

Eternal Spirit! God of truth! to whom
All things seem as they are; thou who of old
The prophet's eye unscaled, that nightly saw,
While heavy sleep fell down on other men,
In holy vision tranced, the future pass
Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned
Burdens that made the pagan mountains shake,
And Zion's cedars bow—inspire my song;
My eye unscale; me what is substance teach,
And shadow what, while I of things to come,
As past rehearsing, sing the Course of Time,
The second Birth, and final Doom of man.
The muse, that soft and sickly wooes the ear
Of love, or chanting loud in windy rhyme
Of fabled hero, raves through gaudy tale
Not overfraught with sense, I ask not; such
A strain befits not argument so high.
Me thought, and phrase, severely sifting out
The whole idea, grant—uttering as 'tis
The essential truth—Time gone, the Righteous saved,
The Wicked damned, and Providence approved.
Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach
To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes
Harmonious with the morning stars, and pure
As those of sainted bards, and angels sung,
Which wake the echoes of eternity—
That fools may hear and tremble, and the wise
Instructed listen, of ages yet to come.
Long was the day, so long expected, past
Of the eternal doom, that gave to each
Of all the human race his due reward.
The sun—earth's sun, and moon, and stars, had ceased
To number seasons, days, and months, and years
To mortal man: hope was forgotten, and fear;
And Time, with all its chance and change, and smiles,
And frequent tears, and deeds of villany,
Or righteousness—once talked of much, as things
Of great renown, was now but ill remembered;
In dim and shadowy vision of the past,
Seen far remote, as country, which has left
The traveller's speedy step, retiring back
From morn till even: and long, eternity
Had rolled his mighty years, and with his years
Men had grown old: the saints, all home returned
From pilgrimage, and war, and weeping, long
Had rested in the bowers of peace, that skirt
The stream of life; and long, alas, how long!
To them it seemed, the wicked who refused
To be redeemed, had wandered in the dark
Of hell's despair, and drunk the burning cup

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La cucaracha for lady Phoenix Rain

.

I have a cockroach for a friend.
I may just start a whole new trend
But when you're pent in the death cell
it makes it difficult to tell.
My friendly cockroach visits me.
He's not afraid to let me see
he wants the leavings on my plate
Though he’s polite prepared to wait.
I have no other friends who care
my leavings I will gladly share.
And when they strap me in the Chair.
I know my cockroach will be there
He will be waiting faithfully
to have his last free meal on me.

8-Jul-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

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THE Metamorphosis of F. Kafka

one day
he finds himself converted into
a giant cockroach
he does not know about it at first
until he wakes up
and looks at himself in the mirror

he changes his taste for food
now attracted to left overs
dislikes water and
light
dislikes people and
events
and cannot relate to the morning
news on TV

his door has now remained closed
and no one is allowed to enter
except his dear sister
who feeds him
morsels

in time he begins to understand
how is it to be a cockroach
how humans have been too cruel
to their state

and then
he writes about Kafka and
The Metamorphosis

that is the real story
until the cockroach dies
until Kafka recovers again
away from
Ward 10.

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