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Metamorphosis (Disclaimer*) * This poem contains a word which might offend some readers. After living tedium, Kafka tried a new approach. Musing on what's to come, As he, I'll be a roach. I'll drop the common prefix To add one of my own; Cuntroach may be too prolix And all my friends would groan. No job, no bills, none waiting If insect-like I bide; My family's hesitating, Requesting that I hide. I can live for thirteen days If my poor head is whacked; Humans live in headless ways While they are all intact. Yes, Kafka had the answer, I bow before his style. Now the problem I incur: Where is the damned dung pile? |
Additional Notes:
Dedicated to Al who finds metaphoric/metamorphic spells painful.
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