Ode to Benzine

Ode to Benzin.

‘Tis but wondrous, my acute companion.

Is not it making you feel stallion?

Alert at driving primal;

I see a loop in this forsooth a Diesel Palace.

 How else may I untravel the distant opts of unplugged callous?

They took apart the Eagle’s Call;

The Call of a campfire.

The chimpanzees got drawled in these pacific strata-

All oiled brisk and coveted the Machine Roar;

Kneed down afore the Metal King.

He’s given us the master’s keys to deserted bravado

Inked glacially by scavengéd vehicular deformities.

I weep for grass and not for bubbly oxygen!

For not the gallows of a bike-infested dosage in…

Not my geared cadaver but a soulful mind.

I’m Luddite! Not ever shall I yearn the motorcycle’s seat

Perishing the Past by scorching wake of Engine.

Begone, O retrograde!

I cry for Roar and Motor Thunder

Attired demonically those Angels stemmed away seraphically

On homicidal tires

To solemn mourn and jest on

Doomsday of the hungered mauled asphalt decrepities.  

They’re free but vapid;

I roar there, too.

I miss the Pastoral Congruity.

Alas! I roar and roll!

Ahead-a plethora of Joy!