Growth Over Thoughts
greed of the weeds
raised in gradually
overspred on the land
worries the farmer
thoughts for morrows or sorrows
poem by Venkatesh Ram
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Farmer's Song
Well I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
In the struggle for parity
Not one man's voice can sound
Cause the foundation
of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground.
Yeah, they want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need.
Well I dreamed I saw a dust bowl
Where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying through the sky
It had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning
On the Whitehouse lawn
Just woke up one morning
And the farmers all were gone
I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Of His Kind
Well I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
In the struggle for parity
Not one man's voice can sound
Cause the foundation
of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground.
Yeah, they want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need.
Well I dreamed I saw a dust bowl
Where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying through the sky
It had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning
On the Whitehouse lawn
Just woke up one morning
And the farmers all were gone
I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taxes On The Farmer Feeds Us All
(traditional, adapted by ry cooder)
(d) - (a) - (e)
(a) we worked through spring and winter, through (d) summer and through (a) fall
But the mortgage worked the hardest and the (e) steadiest of us all
It (a) worked on nights and sundays, it (d) worked each holiday
(e) settled down among us and it never went (a) away
The farmer comes to town with his wagon broken down
The farmer is the man who feeds us all
If you only look and see I know you will agree
That the farmer is the man who feeds us all
(a) the farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He buys on his credit until (e) fall
Then they (a) take him by the hand
And they (d) lead him from his land
And the (e) merchant is the man who gets it (a) all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He lives on his credit until fall
With the interest rates so high
Its a wonder he dont die
But the taxes on the farmer feeds us all
Well, the banker says hes broke and the merchant stops and smoke
But they forget that its the farmer that feeds them all
It would put them to the test if the farmer took a rest
And theyd know that its the farmer that feeds them all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
Lives on his credit until fall
Well, his pants are wearing thin
His condition, its a sin
cause the taxes on the farmer feeds us all
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Of A Dying Breed
Well I hate to say the farmer was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land and taking what he needs
Dont say much for the future when a family cant survive
I hate to say the farmer was the last of his kind
In the struggle for parity, not one mans voice can sound
Cuz the foundation of the conglomerate is firmly in the ground
Yeah they wanna feed the world, but for power and for greed
Then theyll cut off the supply until they get what they need
Well I dreamed I saw a dustbowl where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying thru the sky, it had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning on the white house lawn
Just woke up one morning and the farmers all were gone
Well I hate to say the farmer was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land and taking what he needs
Dont say much for the future when a family cant survive
I hate to say the farmer was the last of his kind
Dont say much for the future when a family cant survive
I hate to say the farmer was the last of his kind
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farmer's Daughter
I do come from miles away,
Ain't got no place to stay.
Glad to help you plow your fields,
Farmer's daughter.
Might be just a couple of days,
Clean up, rest, and be on my way.
Thank you, madam, much obliged,
Farmer's daughter.
So long, got to leave your land.
Many thanks, it was might grand.
I do hope to see you again,
Farmer's Daughter.
Farmer's Daughter.
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Tell Me About It
Don't tell me about it life can be unfair
The homeless and paupers have never been rare
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
The victims of hunger and war and disease
Don't tell me about it I already know
That where weeds are abundant the grass does not grow
'Tis a near and impossible climb to success and renown
For those who are born and raised in the poor side of town
The landscape around us destroyed by men of greed
Those who worship money are not a rare breed
Where pollution is rife there is only decay
For the greed of the greedy we all have to pay
Don't tell me about it I already know
That the seed of a parsnip into a carrot doesn't grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Silver
In this land of strangers
There are dangers
There are sorrows
I cant see this lady
It is shady
I am leaving tomorrow
Tomorrow
Tomorrow
Even theres a reason
Its silver
Its gone
In this land of strangers
There are dangers
There are sorrows
Sorrows
Sorrows
Sorrows
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sorrows
My sorrows consumes me,
There won’t be a tomorrow,
There won’t be a light that shines above me,
There won’t be me anymore,
The way I feel,
The hate I feel,
My heart is breaking,
Its aching,
I am crying for this pain to end,
Today is no ordinary day for me,
Today’s the day I feel more drifting apart from this world,
My sorrows won’t go away,
My deep thoughts in my head leaves me laying dead,
I didn’t mean to lead this pain on and on again,
Look at me now,
I am falling apart,
Apart into million pieces,
This sorrow keeps on going into my thoughts,
This heart break makes me wanna cry over and over again,
My sorrows won’t fade away,
Is this me,
The me I have been waiting for,
Too many times my sorrows has over come me,
This is not me anymore,
This is my sorrows that makes me feel all sad inside.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Blessed...
Before you,
Ive had thoughts of just going..
Leaving without a sound..
Thinkin, this is what I want.
& its make everything better.
I felt unsafe in my own skin,
I wanna get out,
and never go bak in.
insecure,
and hopeless.
Somehow,
I've met you.
you give me something to look forward to.
I stopped with the thoughts.
I realized what the world is all bout.
the greed of us all,
that drags us down.
Well, I dont greed,
not for money,
not for fame.
Not for anything.
But I must say..
I greed too..
I greed for one thing..
I want you.
you make me feel safe,
whenever I hear the sound of your voice.
you calm me without knowin.
& the way you love,
Its amazing.
I am blessed,
I am yours..
Will you be mines?
poem by Dislocated Heart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Request
Sing me a song-a song to ease old sorrows,
And dull the edge of care-
A song of Hope to ring through all the morrows
That be my share.
Unlock the doors where joy hath been in hiding,
Though barred they be and strong,
And send black grief far down the wind a-riding-
Sing me a song.
Sing thou thy sky-lark song of sweetest daring,
And April ecstasy,
That I may follow it and go a-faring
To Arcady.
Charm sleep from out the shadows with thy singing,
And when the light turns grey,
Leave me bright dreams until the dawn comes bringing
The rose-edged day.
The wind of March taught thee his springtime madness,
And then in undertone
Whispered the wonder-secret of his gladness
To thee alone.
And thou hast learned from little brook and river
Their tender melody-
The notes that set the thrush's throat a-quiver
Are known to thee.
Sing me a song-a song to ease old sorrows,
And dull the edge of care-
A song of Hope, to ring through all the morrows
That be my share.
poem by Virna Sheard
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Peaches Pale
too much rain
worries the farmer
peaches pale.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The corn is not choked by the weeds but by the negligence of the farmer.
There is no ice that will never melt
There is no ice that will never melt
Slowly, gradually
Though freeze to sleep forever
Or not be moved by emotion
Slowly, gradually
It’s not needed fire arms
It’s not needed the right law
Only time
Slowly, gradually
The cold drips in my hands
Like a burning candle
Like a bleeding body
Gone into puddle
There is no ice that will never melt
Slowly, gradually
Will it be a thin hope
Or silent word
Slowly, gradually
It’s not needed genius mind
It’s not needed global warning
Only time
Slowly, gradually
The crystal vanishes in my hands
Like a crying stone
Like a dying swan
Gone into water
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Pan Of Sorrows
I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
I am late already,
The shadows are fading,
The cattle have returned,
From the forest.
The birds have raised their clamor.
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
Tender of the fire.
Hurry, be quick,
I have far to go,
To the place
Where my companions have gone.
I have heard the road to that town is difficult
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
When my turn comes,
Your bale of kindling is damp.
Why has your earthen pan
Become flaccid?
What has gone wrong with your fire?
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
Mine is just a handful of grains,
Roast them, and let me go on my way,
Don't leave them raw,
Roast them well.
I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
The wind has dropped,
Its mournful weeping ended.
A sweet heat
Is rising in the stars.
My breaths are like a marriage procession
Whose bridegroom is displeased.
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
O tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ever So Tall Giant!
The farmer was busy ploughing,
With three fields left to do,
When a figure overpowering
Came suddenly in view...
The giant stepped across the gap
In seconds so it seemed,
The farmer thought he'd had a nap
And this whole thing was dreamed...
The farmer blinked yet stood his ground,
The giant's shadow loomed,
The giant's voice a booming sound...
The farmer thought, 'I'm doomed! '
'Don't be afraid, it's only me! '
The giant said amazed,
The farmer gulped quite suddenly,
For he was feeling dazed...
The giant smiled a lovely smile,
No bad thoughts on his mind,
The farmer stared up for a while,
His neck somewhat inclined...
'I'm from another planet, friend!
Just visiting, that's all...'
'Good God, will wonders never end?
How did you get so tall? '
'I'm only tall on planet Earth!
At home, I'm normal size!
I exercise for all I'm worth
And study so I'm wise...'
The farmer groaned, he'd hurt his neck!
'Your poor neck must feel numb!
I know I'm tall, but what the heck!
Wait till you meet my Mum! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Season Of Joyful Giving
Why would anyone expect a thief,
Accustomed and raised by other thieves to greed...
Should have a sudden change of heart.
With an acknowledgement felt deeply of their misdeeds...
To overnight see a light brightly as upon them it beamed.
Just because it happens to be the season of joyful giving.
Especially when all through the year witnessed,
And those many years that have come to pass...
All those who have fed their needs selfishly,
As if weeds let loose on lush green grass...
Have done nothing but to show an ability,
To feast exclusively as if born to rehearse from birth to do it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Possession
Possession, is, pen, pens, ion, ions, spoon, spoons;
Young, youthful, useful!
And like the muse of love in the land of peace.
Possession, pose, so, son, sin, sins, sons, soon, spies;
Gradually settin in and,
Gradually getting in!
And like the muse of love in the land of beautiful flowers.
Possession, on, no, nose, noses, poses, pin, in, pins;
Maker, breaker, baker, shaker, backer, tanker! !
All in the name of your muse to draw me closer to your love,
But, try to do the right things always in this life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Greedy Eagles
Even the eagles' greed have killed them!
Can you believe?
Bald eagles wet and can not fly?
Gorging themselves over wasted fish to die!
And when the temperatures dipped,
Into freezing 'teens'...
At least nineteen of fifty greedy eagles,
Were frozen wet and had met their deaths.
And 'they' are the symbols of this land!
Representing...
Just how far,
A land where greed and mankind,
Have gotten out of hand!
To feast and die,
Feeding greed...
That does not guarantee or provide survival!
Not their own,
It seems.
NOTE:
This report was made January 12th 2008.
Occuring in or near Kodiak, Alaska.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Think For Things
greed you think of things
alas things degenerate
greed you think less of others
alas you tinker with things
greed you think less with sense
alas you kill your neighbour
gree you abhor with your thoughts
alas you make cultures perish
greed you are embodiment of evil
alas unsatiable are are your wants
poem by Venkatesh Ram
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The Dreamers
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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