A Sunday Afternoon Poem

Don't Hide in the Library (Regards to Gregor Samsa)


It is written
Where this short walk carries
Stones strung as words
Hold truth and lies
The in-betweens of lives

Soft scenes
Dark unholy depths
Seascape
Boson's Cave

I wriggle pat the front desk
Moving on through fields of thought
Past music and rhyme
To my corner niche

Dimly lit
Cold as the Cage of Man
A stark and empty place
Save words well wrested

Frankie Kafka meets me on the shelf
Helping me out from under my shell
Hopelessly helping
I am not alone

Freidie Nietzche asks me to lift his books
Become stronger
Kill God
All I answer
No Kill I

Bennie Spinoza sits in the corner
Tattered cloak in tow
Tired of angering the obvious
God is Nature
Nature is God

Lord Freud atop his high chair
Stuck on his father's tail
Delving beyond my bent
Jung not knowing where to stand
Until knowing begins
Calming each dream down to sand

They're all her in my Cage of Man
Aisle of Light and Dark
Clever cloak hanging heavy
Never becoming a moldy Who's Who
Cast in the trash bin

It's late and the lights are dimming in warning
Time to be on my way home
To sleep
Dreaming of my philosopher friends
Laughing for the first time in history

~ Chris Legge