deepundergroundpoetry.com
FORE FATHERS
Frost filled fields
Hard steel razors
Limping, chipping away
At the frozen layers of dirt
I watch as farmers slouch through the fields
Towards their inborn inheritance
Like a chain, keeping their sad, sagging, bones of flesh
Clinging to the land
Their fore fathers once bled over
Men, women, children, working
For what
For a hapless land that would rather suck them down like fertilizer
The land that provides the farmers
For a measly penance
To keep the equipment going
To feed their stomachs
To keep the government off their backs
The land I watch is for beauty
But for them, the rats, the crows
The land is waiting for their burial
They work not knowing that death is right under their feet
Hard steel razors
Limping, chipping away
At the frozen layers of dirt
I watch as farmers slouch through the fields
Towards their inborn inheritance
Like a chain, keeping their sad, sagging, bones of flesh
Clinging to the land
Their fore fathers once bled over
Men, women, children, working
For what
For a hapless land that would rather suck them down like fertilizer
The land that provides the farmers
For a measly penance
To keep the equipment going
To feed their stomachs
To keep the government off their backs
The land I watch is for beauty
But for them, the rats, the crows
The land is waiting for their burial
They work not knowing that death is right under their feet
Published 2nd Jan 2014
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