deepundergroundpoetry.com

Is the car the goat

It stands unseen, polished, chrome all gleaming
but from its exhaust, comes shit all steaming
to blight the planet foul the air
a falsehood's affection, of a love affair

The door to your dreams the Ad men choose
a money pit, that rules the road
the odds to pull the longest straw
 promoters to win and gain applause

A billy goat for company
to mow the grass, eat the weeds
keep the brambles from your door
enhance your life, not keep you poor

The scrap yard crane, that lies in wait
soon piles of scrap, so obsolete
don't make me bet which door I'd choose
I'll call my goat; Auto and see how it goes


 
 

 
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