Kafka Poem by Theodora (Theo) Onken

Short of ending up like Kafka
Who toiled in obscurity
And died peniless
I work myself up
Not to allow myself down
Becoming one voice
For the community of
Published writers
Storming through the
Clutter of red tape
And desks covered in
Layers of dust
I dig my fingers into
Manuscripts
Of old
And allow my eyes
To file away alphbetically
The words
Words of virtue
Of nature
Of life
Of love
Written in free form
Or rhyme
Oh to wax poetic
With some unique prose
Nothing compares to
The poetic Rose
Got to raise myself up
From the words of before
Recapture their essence
In a more elegant form
Brainstorming creative
Issues is not all what it seems
Musn't end up like kafka
Lost in obscurity's
Almost famous dreams