I had a truck, wth tranny on the fritz.
The motor ran, but wheels wouldn't roll.
Its fender flames and candy painted glitz
belied the fact it had a shiftless soul.
I had adorned this truck to show my style;
that everyone might see a guy so cool.
Burning rubber made companions smile
but left me stranded and a champion fool
This truck and its demise are the proceeds
of shallow vain desires to impress.
My false acquired self, is he that needs
to compensate by faking his success.
The motions that this truck no longer made
were lost because the entity I am
allowed a lie to poison and invade
the sanctum of soul's truth. A dingbat's damn
I didn't give, for any view that blurred
my starring role as glittered King of Smart
Abuse of pride made me a mondo nerd
with weasel thoughts and empty buzzard's heart.
So how does one evolve beyond a dolt?
What generates real goodness, truth and love?
What gives the robot brain a violent jolt
and hardened habit's hold, a fatal shove?
Within your self and soul, that which you choose
to never probe or scan, often as not
will help you earn your neck a nasty noose.
Right facts are rarely what you've thought.
When you remember You, you'll realize
that all you take as granted, must be explored
if its legit, or merely Shit's disguise.
Fourteen caret truth; by far your best reward.