It's Just A Car Poem by Gregory Huyette

Metal crown, a rubber throne with plastic in between.
So regal is its status that all worship this machine.
There’s no chance to work or play and sleep is stressed at best.
Without this master there’s little way you’ll ever leave your nest.

The only chance to conquer this friend and foe alike
Is to change unneeded ways before disasters strike.
Home is no doubt the palace, but too often second place
Since the machine, the phallus, penetrates all other space.

Remember before your next journey takes you very far,
Though the challenge is hard, you’re in charge. It’s just a car!