Saturday, May 24, 2014

Future Of The Farm

Got a government mule that I can't beat,
a hundred year drought, and rust in the wheat.
There's widowbirds wild in my Monsanto seed,
and I can't get a loan for more.

So with three generations of mouths to feed
and forty acres full of turnips that just won't bleed,
I set catnip in the corn and Buddha in the beans
and the kids to cooking meth in the barn.

It's the future of the family farm.

Note: Buddha is the name of a popular strain of marijuana . . . so I'm told.

Revisiting Marian's Dirt Farmer prompt for Play It Again at Real Toads.

15 comments:

Margaret said...

depressing, but my admiration always soars when I read your words! So I leave smiling…

Sylvia K said...

Oh, yes!! i do agree with Margaret as to it being depressing, but my admiration is neck in neck with hers, soaring away!! Hope you're having a great weekend, MZ!!

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

Yup--might be at that (she said chewing on a bit of straw)--pretty cool write though

Anne Sexton said...

Ha, ha, ha! This is awesome! So funny that I'm about to wake the kids with my too-loud laughing. :)

Love this:
"There's widowbirds wild in my Monsanto seed"

And the last three lines.

grapeling said...

bitter is the seed ... ~

Björn Rudberg said...

The future of farming.. Go where the need is.. But I'd better buy turnips then ;-)

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is excellent - your tongue-in-cheek portrait of the new approach to farming holds its fair portion of truth. I thought the rhyme was the perfect touch for this lament.

Sumana Roy said...

o my..catnip, Buddha and meth !!!
nice lines :)

Lorraine Renaud said...

You say it straight, killing the farmer, oh man, not a good idea...are we ever going to pay for letting it happen

Fireblossom said...

I don't know about government mules, but government cheese was goooood.

Charleen said...

The sad part is...its all true.

hedgewitch said...

Agree with Kerry--the rhyme makes this seem much more innocent and light than it actually is, and thus drives that Monsanto poison a little deeper into the poem's soil. When there's no point in farming, you have to bootleg.

Susan said...

Just as matter of fact as can be, with rhyme and rhythm to put a smile on the sharp edges. And continued self-reliance. I hope we can do better than this!

Sioux said...

Yeah, once Monsanto seed blows in, the farmer is done for...

Susan said...

A bleak vision indeed. Poems like this might make a difference.