Organic Industrial

rusted, busted, inorganically crop-dusted hand-made on our very own assembly-line low-flying tear-crying, cut-rate-buying fair-trade-priced, but still...real fine garment sweat-shop, Tex-Mex field crop, Civilization Inc. prophets chanting it up workin' twelve hour days 'til you drop drinking Cool-(Inc.)-aid from corporate cup the ol' family farm is right in the box ol' Bessie's mooing fer all she's worth sounding par per share of preferred stocks increasing quarterly statements net girth consume we must, as our numbers grow larger we're either counted victor or the victuals we consume awhile or face early departure incorporating civilization's declared rituals how many human souls can one world hold? how many other species get a place here too? how can we temper our needs uncontrolled? how can we help Mother Earth get through? © Goode Guy 2012-02-11