Gasoholic by Ken Greenley


Gasoline-addicted americans
Roar down the highway again
In their SUVS
And Super-Sized Pickup Trucks
With names like
and Sequoia
All-natural names
for very unnatural vehicles
That drink a lot
Gasoholic americans lean heavily
On brittle fossil fuel crutches
Hordes of them
Buzz like angry bees
toward an asphalt-cracked horizon
Gas pedals stomped
by millions of feet
Attached to brains
that somehow never make the connection
Between oversized vehicles
Rampant fuel consumption
and the irresistable urge
of their petro-dollar government
to invade smaller, weaker oil-producing countries.
No sir
It’s just drive, Drive, DRIVE
There’s a shining star out there
on the horizon
for each of us
the constant promise of more, More, MORE
so off we go;
Devouring anything in our path
Like termites

Very little human about us now;
Cellphone, earplug, gadget things mostly
Just a mouth
Connected to an asshole
Nothing in between
Ram jet engines of consumption
Product is sucked in one end
Waste spews out the other,
who cares.

Ken Greenley February 4, 1958 – February 12, 2020 was a writer who lived in Denver, Colorado. The number of places he’s lived is only exceeded by the number of job’s he’s had. Greenley liked to explore the themes of class division (in a supposedly classless country), the struggle to stay spiritual in the modern world, and the growth episodes that occur in childhood. He thought art, particularly writing, should combat media brainwashing, and should examine the clash between what we’re told and what really happens. He tried to make his material as funny as possible, because he found it hard to make modern life seriously, and considered it his mission “to make people laugh and think at the same time.”

Much more on Ken Greenley can be found by clicking here… and here…

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