This is the way. (Scrap Yard Skinners)
by Johnny Crimson
They said the penalty was silence
that's the only punishment they'll do.
While the scrap yards sting with violence
as the car parts make the news.
There was a carburetor with conscience
and they just tossed him in the heap
as the loudest engine, their obnoxious leader,
chucked the useless to the streets.
Now metal rules with mindless menace
as meaningful means less and less.
Scrap Yards become our cities and towns
their callous demeanor rules the nest.
They came stacked with shotgun and turret mounts
and rocket propelled grenades.
They tossed some pipe bombs in the hallway
and they made their renegade raid...
The only consolation was very thin, you just really had to wait,
for the Scrap Yard Skinners to rust out, and eventually degrade.
As the ivy grows around them now, and they rot in slow decay,
they'll be a reclamation of principles, a return to morality.
This is the way.
Posted on 02/03/2021
Copyright © 2021 Johnny Crimson
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/22/21 at 09:59 PM|
Loved this metaphor of cars and consciences, the loudest engine and car parts making the news. I wish I could agree with that last stanza. It feels far from over but I will interpret it meaning the only way we can go is up. Thanks, Johnny, you have really expanded your poetic horizons.
|Posted by Laura Doom on 02/27/21 at 12:10 AM|
This is a vehicle in itself, with miles to run before the clock turns full circle; which is good, `cos there`s no shortage of fuel. Good trip, right down to the wire.