Kafka Re-Trial
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien
craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show
his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of
his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face
and voice.
And of course they find that he is not, They discover he just
cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has
hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He
plainly and simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not
ranked He is surely not like you and me.
So they cant detain him in custody But they do not have to let
him go He never ever happened, period So who can ever tell, or
know. So on a lonely bench in quiet shade He sits alone and
unremarked, Wondering what games they play, Against the backdrop
of the park.
And so, are we just the opposite, Are we all consigned to hidden
files, Are machines deciding who we are, Where we live, and when
we smile, Is nothing a certain and real fact, Unless computer
correlated true, And should your dossier go into error, How can
you prove, you are really you.
How do you verify yourself for a loan, If your ranking gets
compromised, How do you overturn all their data, Making you a
pariah in others eyes, You may hold letters of validity, They
may grudgingly know its you, Unless their system grants
absolution, There is nothing they can say or do.
So unless we are verifiable as sound, And our image assuages
Superhal, No one will ever trust us again, No one will ever want
to be our pal, But this is not like yesteryear, When a quick
query cleared your name, Your questions are merely registered,
And you just get told how to complain.
Complaints are collated and quantified, They are cross filed and
referenced, You must never lose this number, And you must never
take offence, You are continually adjourned, Or moved to yet
another floor, In the hope that you will falter, From all that
has gone before.
Meanwhile youre mugged, not statistically, Contract MRSA, but
its not on file, Your children cannot read or write, But their
qualifications raise a smile, You always hit potholes that dont
exist, To save waiting on trains that dont arrive, But whose
flexitimes prove you missed, The only one late out of fifty five.
You cry out to be heard aloud, But the echoes mock your voice,
You cannot afford the telephone, Cant bypass enforced menus of
choice, Cannot contact a single human being, By department, name
or reason, All this evolved like a dripping tap, Season upon big
brother season.
Then one day walking in solitude, Your will to try nearly
quenched, There is the quiet of the shady park, There is the man
upon the bench, Who looks at you knowingly, And asks you if you
ever read, And says Then I am Kafka, You Must Tell Me What You
Need.
So He went up to their doors, The Nameless Man with Faceless
Face, And bearded them in their hallowed den, Their plush
revered and holy place, And caused unmitigated consternation, As
he either was not really there, Or indeed actually physically
existed, Solidly sitting silent in his chair.
So they asked him what he would want, If he were real and not
mere illusion, For his appearance was so inopportune, His face
and features causing confusion, His DNA was an embarrassment,
Never born, nor listed, nor created, Never taxed, treated, nor
arrested, Never receiving a non education.
So he stood up to his full height, And drew up his deepest
breath, That made him seem immortal, And made them all fear
death, And his mighty voice resounded, So much the walls
retained his words, We want to be individuals again We want to
speak and to be heard, We want our voice to really matter, And
we want to hear no more lies, We want illusion swept away,
Replaced by council of the wise, We want common sense to
prevail, And not statistical subterfuge, Which tries to tell us
its all ok, When we know it must improve, We want you to
abdicate and take, Your machines and Mandarins away, And we want
it done immediately, Oh Yes, we want it done today.
Or else I will shine in prime time, And then all will see its
me, The man who is not Kafka, The man who simply cannot be, Then
where will your credibility go, Will they ever listen to your
pleas. No, far better for you to go now, And leave reality to me.
And they went away in disarray, Whilst he heralded a new era, No
one knew who the hell he was, But yet everything seemed clearer,
Everything was as it appeared, Nothing hidden, no more of the
lies, And no one filed his disappearance, When he finally left
our skies.
They can media us its always fine, Statistic prove what cannot
be true, They can try to justify their lies, Attempt to airbrush
history in two, They may perceive us all as fools, Force fed on
false soap opera goals, But cannot forever control our minds,
Nor assume they own our souls, For Long term lies have
multiplied, And now are ringing empty and hollow, What seemed so
reasonable yesterday Will be disproved upon the morrow, And with
these endless lies surfacing, Just Like The Man Who Could Not
Be, The truth will slowly become visible, And the truth will set
us free.