Wednesday, April 13, 2011

THE CRIPPLE AND HIS CAR

this is just a musing about a man angry at the car that made him a cripple....


Knowing you are but worthless chaff
Gives my heart a mirthless laugh
As I remember that day of treacherous deed
When you and me did bleed
Now you sit here an empty husk
An elephant shorn of its ivory tusk

I know you blame me for our state
Know now that thee too I do hate
Thou dumb brainless metal rebel
That ere now was my sweetest belle
You turned not when I prayed you would
And stopped not when I said you should

Is it not funny now how we be
Now you are me and I am thee
For now I be on spinning wheels
While you mope there propped on heels
Now I cannot make you cut the air
As we flowed from gear to gear

Paraplegia is what they call it
Never to stand, forever to sit.
At least my state has got a name
But alas, thy mangled wheeless frame
No words on the lips of man can call
So you have thee the Cain of the fall

I dreamt last night that you were well
Some hands beat you back to shape so well
That you outran your frenzied meter
While I watched on my wheels no better
So tomorrow, to the scrap yard you go
For this dream must never be so

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