1. A Song About a Farm
This book is an album; this poem is a song,
Give us our daily beats and serve bloody loud.
Word the second language, music the mother tongue'
No one had to teach me how to tell the truth.
I walked to dance; I talked to sing,
Wrote to remember, and died to live.
I was the only one who saw me for my own
With eyes to see beauty, and the ears to hear it'
I tried to share food for thought on this farm,
But every mule loved to hear himself bray.
Horses couldn't be forced to drink, eat or think,
And the sheep herd did what other sheep heard.
The pigs ate anything; they had no taste.
The chickens were scared, too afraid to fly
Because the dogs watched, doing as they were told.
Maybe it was the water: sterile with steroids
But the stench of stupidity stank to high hell.
I'm a stalwart but I couldn't stay there.
Steers scented greener grass but they lacked the balls,
With courage castrated they couldn't heed the call
Of the birds that sang the song of freedom in the air.
I