"appleseed" poems
Gardening The Forest: A Work In Progress
I garden the forest.
Walking everywhere – like Johnny Appleseed –
I keep my excellent Swedish clippers at my side,
And when I eye a roadside tree
With branch too low, so’s I can see,
I make the lower branches go,
Prune and clear selectively,
Clip high as I can reach,
Which,
Being five foot one
And using muscle of the female kind,
Is always kind to undergrowth,
Seduced by ‘further’,
Blazing paths that never were,
So light can filter through.
It wants for sun. It makes for light.
The woods and I are one;
But I can’t tell a soul.
Wandering on until de-celeration
Starts to take me over,
Signs I’ve learned to recognize
When fervor starts to waver
And observer me says “Rest!”
Works in progress never cease.
It is a forest,
After all.
Work In Progress: Gardening The Forest 11.28.2006 revised 1.18.2014/again 4.20.2015
Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Nature II:
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
Snow White had a pain one day,
She called for the court physician.
He checked her pulse, he felt her head
Said she had a strange condition.
Told her to eat some apples wild
And come back the very next day.
Then found that she must be with child;
For how long, he couldn't say.
Snow White had no rememberance
Of ever laying down with a man;
But her child bore a slight resemblance
To a motley forest band.
Seven dwarves had lived in a place
Right at the edge of town;
Rumors flew it was a disgrace
Which Snow White would never live down.
But then someone remembered a chap
Name of Johnny Appleseed, came through
Said he put some seed right in Snow's lap-
Just before her belly grew.
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 8:54 PM UTC
My identity has been stolen enough times now
Four or five different people use my name with six different credit cards
I’ll clean them up, then ill be the real Johnny Appleseed again. In no time,
Fine
... enough echoes have made it from the deejay to the tenders tip to the whisper, and enough men have checked up on that, silently,toward myself. When it’s all said and done, it’s still my fault. Then I need to find the next place to go...
And you know? You’ll find me, eventually, at the starbucks furthest north in the northwest corner, blasting “Bulls on Parade,” enjoying the pints of beer and
Creamer in my coffee
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
*december 10th 1982
1am*
sleepless in the the neurotic wastelands
she has fifty two cards
each has a face none of them are mine
but the jack of hearts is there and with her childbearing hips
they could pump out a couple of rug rats
start their own little civilization
here on the backwaters
she gives me a ride to the edge of the glades
and drops me off at a truckstop in the rain
december 10th 1982 4:22am
the salt of the earth diner on route 1
with the waitress chewing gum at the counter
staring off into the distant light of highrise miami
a sheen of sweat glistens on her deep tan
but its not as sticky or deep as her mind
thats wandering out in the Catskill mountains
looking for Johnny Appleseed
december 15th 1988 10:00am
doves take flight in the
soft white afterglow of day
with a stir of wings
and her tender lips let slip
of her longing for innermost peace
her eyes seeing nothing but
the golden glow of some distant day
some half remembered day
the time i wait for
summers sweet song
has been far too long
this is a winter world
december 15th 1993 1:00pm
leaning over the balcony rail
she shouts her smiles down
to the regular faces on the rows road
petticoats of fine linen
and her hair up
shes a sea of smiles
as they all shuffle in to see the show
Broken Bernie and his girl Christa
who snowbunnys down to the neon Florida sun
round this time of year
december 13th 1996 6:00pm
desperado's gather in the setting sun
hunger in their eyes
between the rock and hard place
and with a hard eyed thought they
move into the town
she pours him a cup of coffee
and lays a hand softly upon his shoulder
urging him to stay and leave such things
to lesser men
but he knows he must rise to the call
to do less would be treason to his nature
to do less would betray everything he has stood for
today, now
the words waiting on lips as i stumble out of sleep
make little sense at least to the waking mind
but the world makes little sense when fully awake
so this dream fragment hardy seems out of place
wearing a stove pipe hat chewing on a whales tail
and chatting with Abe Lincoln
my guess would be he wanted his hat back
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
Starve fasces-brandishers who predicate
Authority from appetite to lead.
Uproot the system bred to overfeed
Flush priests of law whose acts emaciate
The restive body of we third estate,
Condemning propaganda of the deed
By terrorists like Johnny Appleseed.
We must invoke our right to eat the state.
Roast those who'd charge an honest cannibal
For planting liberal teachings to displace
The syndicate, and share economy.
Fire up the cult of the imperial
And ration insurrectionary grace
Ample for all to feast on anarchy.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Even if we were meant to be
I know you'd skip over me
like apple seeds
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
THE Serious man from Puerto Various.
Came rolling in. He dropped a seed and rolled out of town the same way he rolled in.
Johnny Appleseed of the pampas.
Never met the man but his reputation preceded.
A pensive type they tell me. Women seemed to find him more than he found them.
Kudos Mr Appleseed. A ninja. Restless leg syndrome.
Antsy. I feel I channeled him.
No one else to blame for my mercurial ways.
Process of elimination.
My sons of which there are three, they all have the way
as well. That look and pensive pause after the blurt.
The truth can hurt.
I am my father's son.
Of that I have no doubt.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
If YE knew The TRUTH
YE'd know somethin ya don't know now
(------- )
•
We suffer
We watch others suffer
We gnash our teeth
•
Our REALITY
Is like a flimsy piece of paper
That
Can be ripped apart at a moment's notice
This happened last year but we were watching t. v.
&
Didn't notice
(Now
We just seem foolish)
••
thank heaven!
That all the little boys and girls
Still know of love and it's pure power!
•
Thank god I still know it!
•
Thank god for god!
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
A silhouette
Just a husk
I'm a creature made of lust
A *******
Who knew?
His ******* Father
His name at least
It's known to me
The nature of the Beast
A fleeting Memory
Yet so readily can I recall
The feelings of fear
One and all
I hold them dear
For he taught me
What not to be
I wish I could hate
For every hurt and every blow
The man who left me to this fate
How much he'll never know
It's useless to expend the effort
On a shadow with no substance
So I've built my fort
Keeping him in the distance
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
*Long live the worshipers of the Bracket Bull and Cinderella
Cling ye , to the word of Paul Bunyan , Johnny Appleseed and Peter Rabbit , to Jesus , Mohammed and hobbits
To Tinkerbell , Mother Goose and New Day Prophets
Spread thy beliefs with the sword , with hate fueled -
atrocity and calculation , systematically destroying the world ,
nation after nation* ...
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
This evening I was listening,
To the ebb and flow,
Maynard James Keenan was telling me a tale,
One of struggle and heartbreak,
The passing of a person he loved,
After 27 years in tribulation,
That she would finally be free.
It reminds me of when I was a child ,
When a person very close to me died,
Cancer ravaged their body,
A brilliant mind imprisoned in a failing vessel.
He was smarter than any of us,
And because he knew what the endgame would be,
That there would be no last minute solution,
No magic cure,
Because he knew that he was calm.
The way he carried himself,
Knowing that terrible truth,
Was nothing short of legendary,
Every stride with purpose,
An in-extinguishable fire in his eyes.
And in the end he greeted the end that we all must eventually face like a cool summer breeze,
Knowing that he would no longer feel the pain,
That of his body turning on itself.
He was better than us all,
Someone we should all aspire to be,
We're glad he has peace,
That he was finally called home.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
Everyone loves the dream but I **** it.
I slit the neck of Johnny Appleseed while he slept.
Prometheus ain't got **** on me.
These trees aren't the real thing, you see.
Slippery shrouded shadows mass produced as Mystery.
I left.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Johnny Appleseed.
****** us up good didn't you?
If you plant a tree in Eden
You're an angel
But Mom and Dad ate an apple
Cain got mad and killed Abel
With the *** he wears on his head
Now he runs around smoking herb and planting trees
Cain was just like you Mr. Appleseed
Two farmers tag teamed
He made a pretty good side kick
A seed from Johnny's Apples
Was a Johnny Apple's seed
That Seeded an Apple tree
So Johnny's baby Appleseeds
Could seed more apple trees
To eat off Johnny Apple's seeds
Choke on that Mother Earth
Johnny Appleseed's tree is long and hard
Ripe with juicy fruit
And we all know mankind has a sweet tooth
Knock on wood
Paul Bunyan is Jesus
Cutting down trees of life since day one
Just wait til he gets nailed and impaled on one
Meanwhile an angel with a fire sword chased a snake out of the garden
Johnny
Human
Appleseed
Nature
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
Oh, my God.
We had it all wrong -
It was never Weird Honey.
No, it was Wyrd Honey.
It was Fate, honey.
We are beings of narration
Killing all those trees
Then turning into some
Demented Johnny Appleseed
And how do we experience religion?
There are reasons why we are
Moved by the art that moves us
It lies in the state of your own handwriting
The good music playing outside the clinic
The sound of where you are (were)
The idea of the uncanny
That clown was only scary
Because it's almost human
How sonnets singe my fingertips
And it's entirely illusion
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
I'm an armless appleseed drowning in a pool of liquor
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
She's not here for the status quo
Started the journey early in life,
Worried, lonely, sick too
Oh, my baby is payed by the hour
Used to see her all the time,
Baby, once was mine
Now anyone can buy her love
Only costs a dime
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Enlisting minds tuned to noise,
one good spell,
post participation in the everlasting war;
a peaceful valley, where waiting is only waiting.
Settled, true rest, compressed and shaken down
watching warnings evolve,
in human super bloom.
Eight billion minds
of the main kind,
collective conscience,
under ever afterward solemn
compulsion
to tell the truth. Whole,
no reason to bring to confession,
I must test, to prove to you,
if I
I did hear the knock, as it were, a bell, ting,
ding, I opened the door and made no invitation,
as when a farmer lets out water, whoosh
this leaky old cistern was full to overflow,
and
the rat that hid in the old dry well, drown'd.
Resulting in silence,
due to the truth in any story being authorized,
authority approved.
triple A.
Sowing as the legendary Johnny Appleseed,
with cautionary
pioneer role,
we can take the land, that was the story told…
none of this is learned in secret.
- done did done, done did done, done
do you
know the way to San Jose?
Did you know, in 1968?
----------------
The pilgrimage to all the drops, each 50 league step,
madding memory of yapping pups herding first bought sheep
over the cliff,
into the sea,
thinking that will be the end
of me, as a shepherd…
No, I never cried wolf.
I never took up the hunt for wolves,
I knew it was my own fault
as a shepherd innocent, novice with only books,
who bought a friendly dog, with too much to learn,
and no safe place to train,
brain to worth,
what is good
to know, what is good to go, chase into the sea,
like the spirits from the Gadarene,
and what evil comes when knowing
of good grows too slow
to catch a gnat with no effort.
Watchman! What of the night?
Who is asking, comes a reply,
why do you know nothing
at this hour,
it is dark and quiet, but for living noises,
courting crickets and owlish judgements
bat beeps and squeals, but those, we feel I think, more than hear.
Oct 31, 2022
Oct 31, 2022 at 12:19 PM UTC
Apples
And
Cigarettes
Go so well together.
The fruit of death
And the sower of it.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
There is juice
bleeding from
The flesh of the apple
As my predator eyes
Lick the drops
That drip
And slip down
The light green side
I am hungry
so I bite deep and fiercely
letting the sweet pleasure
envelope me.
In my frenzy
I bite to deeply,
spit seeds
on the ground before me;
Hoping a tree
sprouts
so I can be
like Johnny Appleseed,
the progenitor of a new
delicious American dream.
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 5:26 PM UTC