Pea

Don't seek, shun knowing, and never try to find
The wildfires seething in the rent, unsleeping mind
Of a pea who might wish to fit back in its pod
But instead dies a zealot in his lone war with God,

And at war with those who'd drive our culture to the shop,
Give a wrench a few half-turns, rotate tires, tune it up.
This other wants the culture on blocks, never to come down.
Keep it out back and watch grass grow up around!

Consider countless people this crusading might offend,
And know why it's the pea who must come to its end.