Hymn to Karl Marx

who are you to defy my authority?

that which cannot be measured does not exist

nothing can lie outside my analysis

the iron law of the empiricist

your vague impressions of beauty

are as elusive as an infant’s kiss

and your strange magic, the Eucharist:

beauty is the tyrant’s nemesis

I am the destroyer of symphonies

I will turn your Parnassus 

into a blighted wilderness 

so put your muse on out-of-office

of your fragile ghost I am the exorcist

that which cannot be measured does not exist