The Wheel Broke

The wheel broke, it didn’t roll

A numbness in the mind blinded

Stamping feet to no avail

It’s a wheel roll, dam roll

Bearings froze on a warm day

The eyes wide to the need of lubrication

Distressed of industry, foul, vital, dark

Spit proves the point.

To render fat or distill crude

In every sense of the word

The remnants, congealed grease

Petrified, purified, paleo dermis

How many more of us will it take

Till we can die and leave enough

To make grease oil and tar.

And then will there be a bicycle

Needing such gunk.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s