deepundergroundpoetry.com
tilling the soil
Ploughing
I have been turning the soil over
on a field of nothingness, a furrow at the time
with an elderly mule that farts a lot.
The soil is unyielding; it's cabbage and carrots
I need; flowers cannot be food mainly because
it is a sin to eat pretty things.
I have slaughtered the goat but need vegs
to go with the steak, this for you to see I can
cook a great meal by myself.
My table has a place for twelve guests
if you are unwilling to partake in the feast
I will feed the dinner to my absent friends.
I have been turning the soil over
on a field of nothingness, a furrow at the time
with an elderly mule that farts a lot.
The soil is unyielding; it's cabbage and carrots
I need; flowers cannot be food mainly because
it is a sin to eat pretty things.
I have slaughtered the goat but need vegs
to go with the steak, this for you to see I can
cook a great meal by myself.
My table has a place for twelve guests
if you are unwilling to partake in the feast
I will feed the dinner to my absent friends.
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