Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Greasy Diesel



Greasy Diesel,
what a terrible smell,
seems to spark some rage
in me, telling everyone to
go to hell.

A billowing cloud of toxic
gas, belching from an exhaust,
billowing across the road,
stinking of sin and oil, gas
and indifference.

The rumbling expulsion of
hot air, signifying abhorrent
contempt for the natural order,
blotting the blue sky with a rottenness
and corruption.

The greasy diesel odor, filling my
nostrils with anger, I hate it. I hate
the air wasted, promises broken,
lies told and slickness of which
I was so easily brushed aside.

The putridness of those greasy diesel
lies, choking the kindness out of me,
the desire for sweetness, tenderness,
love and honesty; hidden in a cloud of
foul smelling disingenuous intent.

A pollution of the winds by a
decomposed heart, incapable of seeing
the damage it wrought to the small parts
of the world inhabited by desire, goodness
and sincerity.

Greasy diesel stink, suffocating good intention,
paving a road to ruin, pitch tarred and buried,
without consideration for the joys on the edges,
the wild flowers arching toward the sun, aching
for their sun dappled kisses.

There is more pollution unseen, than seen,
yet it bears the same smell, a noxious fragrance
of greasy diesel wheel dealings
in the air of the heart and soul,
adding to a foulness I thought was prologue.

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