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"agricultural" poems
“Being a farmer is like being a priest; you take a vow of poverty and make a pact with the Lord that no typhoon will come and destroy your crops.” In the rise of sedentary human civilization, The nation’s agriculture Became the key expansion. Its history dates back thousands of years, With its development, Has been driven and defined – By different climates, cultures, and technologies. The Filipino farmers: Are they now a dying breed? Numbers of small farms has dwindled, With workers opting for city life. But this trend could exacerbate food insecurity! Yes, in an import-dependent country – Already struggling to meet current food demand. In the face of growing losses, And from volatile weather, To new-fangled farming tech, Limited education makes them less receptive. What took such toll on the agricultural sector? Maybe the farmer themselves, The investors, the buyers – maybe. Now, it’s due to the government policies, Our programs are good, yet so weak. There’s excessive reliance on agricultural imports, And corruption on the upper level. Compounding the problem Is a younger generation – Largely, leaving rural areas nationwide, And depleting the pool of potential agricultural workers. They say it’s too late to do something; But the mind-set of the younger generation Still we can change And make farming appealing once again. (9/8/13 @xirlleelang)
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
A Dying Filipino Breed
By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#
0
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
BURIED
By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#
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46
KENYA K….Kenya my beautiful country E ….earn honors and respect N …none is like you my country Y …you shine brighter compared to any other A …across the world, you light brighter that the sun The beauty sceneries of the green vegetation The dark color of the people of Kenya The arable land in Kenya The mines The animals and tourist centers in Kenya The presidency The politics The hot springs The digitality in Kenya The economic growth in Kenya The agricultural sector, The flag of Kenya The education sector in Kenya All make me feel proud of Kenya…. And I feel so good to be Kenyan.
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
why KENYA?
Far back in the ages, The plough with wreaths was crowned; The hands of kings and sages Entwined the chaplet round; Till men of spoil disdained the toil By which the world was nourished, And dews of blood enriched the soil Where green their laurels flourished: --Now the world her fault repairs-- The guilt that stains her story; And weeps her crimes amid the cares That formed her earliest glory. The proud throne shall crumble, The diadem shall wane, The tribes of earth shall humble The pride of those who reign; And War shall lay his pomp away;-- The fame that heroes cherish, The glory earned in deadly fray Shall fade, decay, and perish. Honour waits, o'er all the Earth, Through endless generations, The art that calls her harvests forth, And feeds the expectant nations.
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8.6k
Ode For An Agricultural Celebration
across the Liverpool plains the gas exploration goes on without being contained drilling is never ending holes sunk which invariable cause in the farming community a disquieting funk Santos cares little for the environment's well being its pipeline must garner all the gas in the stream landholders and those in the green party have banded together to protect the agricultural lands from the rabid abuse which the company will wrought on the water table flora and fauna they cry **** as the company exploits the countryside making of it a harlot to be pillaged and misused the state government is at sixes and sevens so many competing interests must be listened to should it give Santos permits to **** and plunder or will it allow the broad acres to continue without sunder
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
They Cried ****
I was raised in the wild With all the defiled So my mood was mild While bodies were piled I was a lonely coyote The other creatures didn't know me Because I slinked in the shade To avoid their detection Loneliness is what I had to trade To pass their inspection Other animals couldn't brave the weather Or their fragile arteries were severed They laid there dead I wondered if they ever lived It went to my head What this world can give I saw the buzzards Ring their buzzers Then the maggots fed on their brain While not understanding their pain These images did me no good While I was stuck in the woods And I couldn't see the forest through the trees I was lost If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze In the frost I tried to find a home in hollowed trees But I was chased out by a bunch of bees And the darkened caves Seemed like shallow graves When that's where bats play But peaceful open meadows Left me susceptible to attack Everything seemed mellow So I had to watch my back Winter was approaching And I saw no solutions The cold air encroaching Like frigid pollution But my shady luck shifted Once I was graciously gifted A powerful and majestic horse That put me on a better course I ride the steed with a leather saddle Made of skin stripped off simple cattle It took the strength of an ox To hold down this fox Yet my domestication Calls for celebration Because now I live in a house Without having to hide like a mouse I can strut like a peacock With a bird of my flock It's a form of animal husbandry Because you're in love with me I'm the insistent critter From a different litter That saw life wither From damage inner I was a raccoon digging through the trash Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash You're an agricultural guy So vultures circle the sky Looking to harvest your bountiful crop They must smell death underneath it Their presence makes my heart drop And all I want to do is defeat it But even as they get near You remain here We stand together as scarecrows In a defensively unified paired row This is the delightful day You end all my wild ways And eliminate my suffering With your animal husbandry
0
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Animal Husbandry
I was raised in the wild With all the defiled So my mood was mild While bodies were piled I was a lonely coyote The other creatures didn't know me Because I slinked in the shade To avoid their detection Loneliness is what I had to trade To pass their inspection Other animals couldn't brave the weather Or their fragile arteries were severed They laid there dead I wondered if they ever lived It went to my head What this world can give I saw the buzzards Ring their buzzers Then the maggots fed on their brain While not understanding their pain These images did me no good While I was stuck in the woods And I couldn't see the forest through the trees I was lost If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze In the frost I tried to find a home in hollowed trees But I was chased out by a bunch of bees And the darkened caves Seemed like shallow graves When that's where bats play But peaceful open meadows Left me susceptible to attack Everything seemed mellow So I had to watch my back Winter was approaching And I saw no solutions The cold air encroaching Like frigid pollution But my shady luck shifted Once I was graciously gifted A powerful and majestic horse That put me on a better course I ride the steed with a leather saddle Made of skin stripped off simple cattle It took the strength of an ox To hold down this fox Yet my domestication Calls for celebration Because now I live in a house Without having to hide like a mouse I can strut like a peacock With a bird of my flock It's a form of animal husbandry Because you're in love with me I'm the insistent critter From a different litter That saw life wither From damage inner I was a raccoon digging through the trash Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash You're an agricultural guy So vultures circle the sky Looking to harvest your bountiful crop They must smell death underneath it Their presence makes my heart drop And all I want to do is defeat it But even as they get near You remain here We stand together as scarecrows In a defensively unified paired row This is the delightful day You end all my wild ways And eliminate my suffering With your animal husbandry
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75
They're burning the stubbles of yesteryear's fields Before ploughing. Walls of fire around every farm. Smoke blends with the smell of pig's furtilizing manure, And whenever my nose wrinkles up I remember my father's words: *It's the result of millennia of agricultural tradition. It's the smell of money. It's the smell of soil to bread. It's the smell of something far more important Than nasal comfort.* He had me at -Where he should have said- Organic.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
Of Fire and Feaces
KENYA K….Kenya my beautiful country E ….earn honors and respect N …none is like you my country Y …you shine brighter compared to any other A …across the world, you light brighter that the sun The beauty sceneries of the green vegetation The dark color of the people of Kenya The arable land in Kenya The mines The animals and tourist centers in Kenya The presidency The politics The hot springs The digitality in Kenya The economic growth in Kenya The agricultural sector, The flag of Kenya The education sector in Kenya All make me feel proud of Kenya…. And I feel so good to be Kenyan.
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Why Kenya?
My heart isn't for the picking like a ripe Apple, It's been damaged, it's been bruised, it's been carved with a scalpel. And there's one common factor in every ounce of pain, It all stems back to you and my tears fall like rain.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Agricultural love.
I am the young girl running around the house, looking for the pony, on Christmas morning, while the ship is slowly sinking, in a manure flavored sea. I am the armless tennis player that is convinced he will defeat Roger in less than an hour, using just one ball, over and over again. I am Roy Wright at the beginning of the trial, with a big stupid smile in my pocket, and a tinny black book in my soul. I am the faithful survivor of unfaithfulness and I will be the one that lands on his feet, in Scottsboro heaven. I am Bartolomeo V, the one with no vendetta, having a croissant, waiting for Nicola to shave, before we take off in one of Rothko's paintings. May the 5th be with the ones who actually did it.. and, you know what? I honestly think Cronaca Sovversiva is a great title, even though I haven't read the ****** thing and I have no sympathy, whatsoever, for any anarchist. Hell! It's hard for me getting my **** together in complete order. I don't want to think what would become of me in complete anarchy. I am the one that wakes up every day with a stupid smile under his nose, not remembering the scent of yesterday's failure. The one that starts dreaming as soon as he gets up, ignoring the fact that he might be an ignorant ***** with no desire to go to outer space, but with huge hopes up his sleeve for M. Damon and his agricultural knowledge. I am in favor of all fancy schmancy Earth saving knowledge, and I am aware that all that space debris in my head will do some serious damage one day. If they ever figure out how to get it all in. I am the tic, that will come after the tac-toe, this time, and not the other way around! the encore of every good concert, the yin for the panda **** the slim leg for the flamingo, the gambler, the rambler, the day rider. I am the Syrian boy that just learned to swim and all of this infinite blue soup is nothing more than a Saturday stroll. I will get in the back of that truck and I will breathe the purest air that someone could ever breathe, I will sleep the sleep of reason and monsters will not be produced. You have my word! I am the skin before the needle shoots up all its ink. I will be perky. I will be green.
0
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC
̄\_(-_-)_/ ̄ ̄\_(ツ)_/ ̄ ̄\_(-|-)_/ ̄ ̄\_(-!-)_/ ̄ ̄\_(# #)_/ ̄
I am the young girl running around the house, looking for the pony, on Christmas morning, while the ship is slowly sinking, in a manure flavored sea. I am the armless tennis player that is convinced he will defeat Roger in less than an hour, using just one ball, over and over again. I am Roy Wright at the beginning of the trial, with a big stupid smile in my pocket, and a tinny black book in my soul. I am the faithful survivor of unfaithfulness and I will be the one that lands on his feet, in Scottsboro heaven. I am Bartolomeo V, the one with no vendetta, having a croissant, waiting for Nicola to shave, before we take off in one of Rothko's paintings. May the 5th be with the ones who actually did it.. and, you know what? I honestly think Cronaca Sovversiva is a great title, even though I haven't read the ****** thing and I have no sympathy, whatsoever, for any anarchist. Hell! It's hard for me getting my **** together in complete order. I don't want to think what would become of me in complete anarchy. I am the one that wakes up every day with a stupid smile under his nose, not remembering the scent of yesterday's failure. The one that starts dreaming as soon as he gets up, ignoring the fact that he might be an ignorant ***** with no desire to go to outer space, but with huge hopes up his sleeve for M. Damon and his agricultural knowledge. I am in favor of all fancy schmancy Earth saving knowledge, and I am aware that all that space debris in my head will do some serious damage one day. If they ever figure out how to get it all in. I am the tic, that will come after the tac-toe, this time, and not the other way around! the encore of every good concert, the yin for the panda **** the slim leg for the flamingo, the gambler, the rambler, the day rider. I am the Syrian boy that just learned to swim and all of this infinite blue soup is nothing more than a Saturday stroll. I will get in the back of that truck and I will breathe the purest air that someone could ever breathe, I will sleep the sleep of reason and monsters will not be produced. You have my word! I am the skin before the needle shoots up all its ink. I will be perky. I will be green.
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56
agricultural sabotage remains incoherent, not that it’s a secret that moneys evil. Rio+20 on the health of our planet, ignore the ******* thing that's causing the most damage. you're all taking the **** it's a miss not a hit. Forget shorter showers and the flick of a switch. Transportation is not the only problem. whats the biggest ******* industry   causing global warming? The UN doesn’t even ******* know. When they served up beef, I thought it was a sick joke Smoke and mirrors, gas and granite The meat industry is killing our planet And as humans, we tend to digress. Makes sense how we all eat things we cannot digest. you smiling? who do think you're hiding from? You still believe in fairy tales and I'm the one, who's dumb Because I actually give a **** with an open third eye I can see the grit. The pain, the torture that we inflict, then ironically endure when we swallow that ****
0
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
Planet of the Apes
I took ten random words from a dictionary and used each of them in a line, in the direct order I chose them. All the words acquired, start with a capital letter. I want to hear others attempts! Give it a try, and list your title in the comments! :) Enjoy! an Agricultural paradise, we control mother nature's life Overmaster's of her laws, her reigns we hold precise our Alimentative elixirs? From her womb we choose to thieve her Hems we tear and take our share a Ghostly life to lead her Briny tears an ocean she's still Endearing and motherly yet we treat her like a ***** Bathhouse pure Artificial stupidity i truly pray for her Ascension from humanity.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
Ten Random Words Project *Participate!*
a malignant cancer spreads in prime agricultural land the Santos Company gas wells ever expand the waterways and aquifers sullied with material not healthy the corporate entity aspiring to be more wealthy campaigners outside fences at drilling locations wanting to stop the company's sick infiltration the fight to preserve the family farm has been unheeded company profitability must be well seeded a state government not listening to scientist's info seemingly it is more interested in the gas field's revenue flow as time goes by the waterways and land will become sicker all in the name of the Santos brands noxious sticker
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Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Noxious Sticker
"You're ******* your life away Bobby," screamed Auntie Abhaya in her native tongue. Malayalam has many nuances and maybe a better translation is, "lightning currents from your privates and blast River Ganga, streaming your soul away." Dravidian poetics go as such and Auntie Abhaya seemed to have quite dramatic flare. In any case, cousin Bobby was once again, drunk. Auntie Ay, as we lovingly referred to her, in her fearless way, was having nothing of it. Worse yet, seems Bobby had funded his ****** with rupees stolen from Auntie Chhaya's purse. A storm of tears she was, in the corner of the humble hut they all resided in, in Kerala. Kerala's backwaters wash in from the Arabian Sea. Tropical delicacies abound; markets filled with fish, pineapple and coconut groves, and an array of spice that keep the main agricultural commerce of India most enticing to the rest of the world. Yet, life earnings are hard and for some hard habits easy to pick up. This was truest in Bobby's case, though he did try and try to make his family proud. As I was only a guest in this loving but burdened home, and recognizing a family crisis at hand, I and my traveling partner put forth finances lost to ensure our safe return to Mumbai north in Maharashtra and not embarrass our host family any longer. Though we had touched a Garden of Eden, the lesson of banishment was still at hand.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
Eat Not Of This Fruit
increasing the yield potential of a crop has been the aim of Monsanto with great efficiency this company has hit on a jackpot it holds a monopoly on agricultural products yet Monsanto are selling a very dodgy line of seeds the cornmeal and wheat has not a taste which is truly sweet people must become educated in what they eat the Monsanto Company don't tell of adverse findings about products that it vends they bring many cancers which affect men women and children we all want a wholesome loaf of bread one that hasn't had it wheat genetically tampered with we all deserve clean and unadulterated food on our plates to decrease those ever rising cancer rates Monsanto is a company who cares little for our health Monsanto is a company who has only an interest in making profits and wealth
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Making Wealth
May Day Fertility way Beltane honours life A peak of Spring Earth energies are most effective Let it begin All busting with potent fertility The wheel of the year, potential becomes conception Nature is fair Fire festival glare Ireland celebrations Feast of Beltane Latter times, Mary's day, it was called in the rhymes, they say Bonfires marking, the coming of Summer Granting luck to people's livestock, without mock The first day in May Irish holiday Beltane rituals, counting young men and women, picking blossoms in the woods, lighting fires as the evening stood Matches for marriages all good, right there and then, or Summer Autumn would be when Medieval modern Europe holiday Return of Spring observance Probably originating anyway, in ancient agricultural roots Rituals and perseverance, The Greeks and Romans, held such festivals People and their cattle, would walk around bonfires, and between rattle Sometimes leaping over, embers and flames All households, fires doused and re-lit from the Beltane bonfire Accompanied by a feast, with some food and drink, offered at least May Day also called Worker's Day, or International Worker's Day Commemorating the historic, struggles and gains made, by workers, and the labour movement, reins without jerkers In the United States and Canada lakes, a similar observance known, as Labor Day partakes on the first, Monday of September not May Beltane also sometimes, goes by the Name May Day This holiday strongly, associated with Pagans, they say, for fertility come what May The origins are in ancient play, across the world this May Day © 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
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May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 5:45 AM UTC
Beltane
May Day Fertility way Beltane honours life A peak of Spring Earth energies are most effective Let it begin All busting with potent fertility The wheel of the year, potential becomes conception Nature is fair Fire festival glare Ireland celebrations Feast of Beltane Latter times, Mary's day, it was called in the rhymes, they say Bonfires marking, the coming of Summer Granting luck to people's livestock, without mock The first day in May Irish holiday Beltane rituals, counting young men and women, picking blossoms in the woods, lighting fires as the evening stood Matches for marriages all good, right there and then, or Summer Autumn would be when Medieval modern Europe holiday Return of Spring observance Probably originating anyway, in ancient agricultural roots Rituals and perseverance, The Greeks and Romans, held such festivals People and their cattle, would walk around bonfires, and between rattle Sometimes leaping over, embers and flames All households, fires doused and re-lit from the Beltane bonfire Accompanied by a feast, with some food and drink, offered at least May Day also called Worker's Day, or International Worker's Day Commemorating the historic, struggles and gains made, by workers, and the labour movement, reins without jerkers In the United States and Canada lakes, a similar observance known, as Labor Day partakes on the first, Monday of September not May Beltane also sometimes, goes by the Name May Day This holiday strongly, associated with Pagans, they say, for fertility come what May The origins are in ancient play, across the world this May Day © 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
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67
The Plains of Africa when you touch down here on the African plains you can almost immediately feel the pains of a life that grew from nothing at all greatness achieved but still the blood stains cultures of complexity started here somehow they understood but still there was fear they created technology science and a division of labor and learned somehow to live with their neighbor they created transportation writing and math they started it all they created the path without their skills in agricultural tricks we could have never grown just chewing on sticks and though it all started here so long ago this area suffers did they forget what they know this is where my future all began here was the beginning the beginning of man we owe it all to these beings so humble and caring we need to find an end to all of their despairing it seems funny that they were the ones stretching the brain and now they need educating when there is no rain infestation of some kind has continually been a thorn either insects or bacteria for even the newborn yes they were our beginning the life that we know we owe our tears and support to help them regrow David Nelson ....
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
The Plains of Africa
Here I am again Alone At the library Human existence can be strange indeed I think I will go for a long hike this afternoon I just need to record something interesting to listen to I definitely know about solitude And it helps me to know myself The Shemitah is the seventh year In the seven year agricultural calendar of Israel The current Shemitah ends September 24, 2015 Since 1973 every US financial collapse Combined with subsequent recession Has occured during Shemitah 100% of the time This includes 2001 and 2008 Perhaps another collapse in September of this year
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
Shemitah
my mother was born a gardener and my father became one through patient snap peas and angry red tomatoes he seeded and watered and waited while my mother grew hibiscus in the mountains and plums in the shade i was born a painter but its tank me years to pick up a paintbrush and my brother was born a poet but i sincerely doubt that he’ll ever show it i mix my paints on my palette of flowers and my brother goes to meetings at banks My other attended the only Agricultural High School available to her within a 40 mile radius of her South Philadelphia home. This was not a coincidence. My father attended the best athletic conference in his affluent suburban community. This was. She started out watering plants in fast food joints, arranging flowers for junior proms in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. When my father met her, she only ate lettuce and seeds because that was all she could manage to put in her body. My father kneeled to the ground, saw the soil beneath her fingernails, and fell in love. I can only love men who garden. I can only be a daughter of the earth because of them. I don’t like terrariums because they frustrate me. Life trapped behind glass, that I cannot touch, or feel, or smell. I cannot water, I cannot fathom to even slightly disturb their existence, no matter how desperately I want to. I’m getting my hands ***** touching old soil. I wipe it on my skirt before I touch the sweat on the back of my neck. I’m planting forget-me-nots and basil. I don’t even know if those go together. But I am putting them deep in the ground and it occurs to me that in a few weeks, I might not even remember them. They might die and become some stupid memory, a part of my dinner party story vernacular, Or maybe waiting for them will change me, will allow me to commit as a meditation on earthen peace.
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
I Grow, or I'm a Card-Carrying Member of the New England Carnivorous Plant Society, but I Don't Live In New England or Own a Carnivorous Plant
my mother was born a gardener and my father became one through patient snap peas and angry red tomatoes he seeded and watered and waited while my mother grew hibiscus in the mountains and plums in the shade i was born a painter but its tank me years to pick up a paintbrush and my brother was born a poet but i sincerely doubt that he’ll ever show it i mix my paints on my palette of flowers and my brother goes to meetings at banks My other attended the only Agricultural High School available to her within a 40 mile radius of her South Philadelphia home. This was not a coincidence. My father attended the best athletic conference in his affluent suburban community. This was. She started out watering plants in fast food joints, arranging flowers for junior proms in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. When my father met her, she only ate lettuce and seeds because that was all she could manage to put in her body. My father kneeled to the ground, saw the soil beneath her fingernails, and fell in love. I can only love men who garden. I can only be a daughter of the earth because of them. I don’t like terrariums because they frustrate me. Life trapped behind glass, that I cannot touch, or feel, or smell. I cannot water, I cannot fathom to even slightly disturb their existence, no matter how desperately I want to. I’m getting my hands ***** touching old soil. I wipe it on my skirt before I touch the sweat on the back of my neck. I’m planting forget-me-nots and basil. I don’t even know if those go together. But I am putting them deep in the ground and it occurs to me that in a few weeks, I might not even remember them. They might die and become some stupid memory, a part of my dinner party story vernacular, Or maybe waiting for them will change me, will allow me to commit as a meditation on earthen peace.
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20
The Plains of Africa when you touch down here on the African plains you can almost immediately feel the pains of a life that grew from nothing at all greatness achieved but still the blood stains cultures of complexity started here somehow they understood but still there was fear they created technology science and a division of labor and learned somehow to live with their neighbor they created transportation writing and math they started it all they created the path without their skills in agricultural tricks we could have never grown just chewing on sticks and though it all started here so long ago this area suffers did they forget what they know this is where my future all began here was the beginning the beginning of man we owe it all to these beings so humble and caring we need to find an end to all of their despairing it seems funny that they were the ones stretching the brain and now they need educating when there is no rain infestation of some kind has continually been a thorn either insects or bacteria for even the newborn yes they were our beginning the life that we know we owe our tears and support to help them regrow David Nelson ....
0
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
The Plains of Africa
Before the Dawn Of Agriculture men like ME where slapped into the shadow of ****** shame but now who needs muscles or chiseled chins, great size or strength, a lover’s passion or a manly countenance ‘cause for ten thousandyears now I can persecute any female for infidelity towards ME and hold paternity privilege over MY biological children because we exceptional farmers invented marriage to destroy human sexuality by enslaving women with MY property for *** so I no longer need to share or compete or settle for an alpha males’ sloppy seconds within foraging groups that are forced to share what they carry with them instead of our enforced legal couplings that takes the innocent, primal pleasure and mystery out of *** by connectingshtooping to birth thanks to dirt MY dirt MY very own thousand acres of seeded soil littered with pens full of MY trapped sheep, cattle, goats and pigs which means I can pork any female I fancy and destroy any man who thwarts MY desire as simply as the bulls I castrate into submission to easily herd into MY slaughterhouses that feed all the inferior people no longerdependent on their hunting and gathering skills but on ME to stay alive so not only am I not considered a sociopath by hoarding food but am praised at harvest time like a ********* Babe Ruth hero because I have legally claimed and legally ***** those precious few life giving inches of topsoil with rotating crops and extended grasslands that exhausts and shrinks the earth, MY earth MY reign of forcing agricultural workers to bend over in the fields, stupidly exposing hairless backs to sun poisoning instead of their protective hunters’ heads of hair harvesting MY food that shrinks the testicles of everyone who is forced to feed on the cheap calories of MY industrialized plants and animals that lowers fertility, but who needs big ***** anymore when you don’t have to **** larger animals in order to survive or attract females with your superior physical attributes proving I am the social parasite Sultan of Swat who grows fat on the food I’ve seized by stealingPaleo land in the name of government protected ownership.
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
D.O.A.---Dawn of Agriculture
Before the Dawn Of Agriculture men like ME where slapped into the shadow of ****** shame but now who needs muscles or chiseled chins, great size or strength, a lover’s passion or a manly countenance ‘cause for ten thousandyears now I can persecute any female for infidelity towards ME and hold paternity privilege over MY biological children because we exceptional farmers invented marriage to destroy human sexuality by enslaving women with MY property for *** so I no longer need to share or compete or settle for an alpha males’ sloppy seconds within foraging groups that are forced to share what they carry with them instead of our enforced legal couplings that takes the innocent, primal pleasure and mystery out of *** by connectingshtooping to birth thanks to dirt MY dirt MY very own thousand acres of seeded soil littered with pens full of MY trapped sheep, cattle, goats and pigs which means I can pork any female I fancy and destroy any man who thwarts MY desire as simply as the bulls I castrate into submission to easily herd into MY slaughterhouses that feed all the inferior people no longerdependent on their hunting and gathering skills but on ME to stay alive so not only am I not considered a sociopath by hoarding food but am praised at harvest time like a ********* Babe Ruth hero because I have legally claimed and legally ***** those precious few life giving inches of topsoil with rotating crops and extended grasslands that exhausts and shrinks the earth, MY earth MY reign of forcing agricultural workers to bend over in the fields, stupidly exposing hairless backs to sun poisoning instead of their protective hunters’ heads of hair harvesting MY food that shrinks the testicles of everyone who is forced to feed on the cheap calories of MY industrialized plants and animals that lowers fertility, but who needs big ***** anymore when you don’t have to **** larger animals in order to survive or attract females with your superior physical attributes proving I am the social parasite Sultan of Swat who grows fat on the food I’ve seized by stealingPaleo land in the name of government protected ownership.
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