The Road Of Progress
It was late on a very dark night.
It was coming, just out of sight.
Down the road, it was said.
A monster lurked. It was red.
Then, it was on the road.
Charging fast, smoke billowed.
It roared like an angry lion.
Its eyes glowed. I ain’t lying.
The year was 1901.
I dropped my bottle of rum.
I took off through the woods.
I was running as fast as I could.
It growled and flew on by,
down the road with an eerie cry.
What the hell was that thing?
It smelled like smoke and gasoline.
I was shaking in my boots.
I ran home for a gun to shoot.
I went back and waited for it.
I heard it coming lickedy split.
I fired several rounds into it.
It swerved and did a flip.
It was lying on its back.
Smoke was raising. It’s a fact.
Slowly, I approached the beast.
There was a body underneath.
Then, I saw it was a machine.
Then I woke up from the dream.
I had to call it a nightmare.
It was scary as hell, I swear.
Later I went out to the road.
Strange tracks there did unfold.
Like wagon tracks, but wider.
I took a swig of apple cider.
I needed something stronger.
I can’t take this much longer.
So started the automobile age.
Similar storied were the rage.
So, don’t be shocked, if today.
Something strange comes your way.
—————–R.W. Johnson—–(2017)