The Gardner

-The Tree of Life- Featuring: Casarah Nance ~~I am beautiful on the inside you will see~~ ~But really I am scarcely a tree in the woods.~ Beauty found a tree that sits and does not utter Owning, up to the heavens, look at -- when ready Simply stop, admire, count your blessings, enjoy the raven staring down at you For this tree was not planted by a gardener, This tree, who needs, not to speak, draws true auspice air, Not like the gardener who planted a garden, then got annoyed by the smallest of weeds This is a story, about a gardeners mockery, after trying to cut down my Pecan Tree Hypocrite the farmer, does not know the first thing when it comes to flora Plant sources, that only grow in like weeds, (poor crops) a picture, not even God, sets his eyes upon I forbid, the thirsty growers from coming, when putting up or wanting to gossip and speak of my roots Look how they lose their lower leaves, from over embracing each thorn Take heed the whispers of these filthy propagators, at my windows & doorsteps, Shh, they are watching! Peeping-Tomming, robbing from my bluebonnet bed, while in a deep sleep counting sheep Wake-up, and Click away, the dandelions are gone, airborne into a fuller universe From the hunger, I left behind, since jealous eyes envied how high my beanstalk continues to rise Smile, at the yellow wool, held out by the same green thumb gang, whine when others succeed, Scratching one another on the back, as if they were the National FFA Organization Grazers growing super fast- crowfoot grass, a bitter look, found in their dead pedal path Horticulturist, all alone, on the inside, growing bushes of lies, contaminated vase, black roses I can't endure participating in a dead stem convention, when the seed-woman cries for care Exposing an overwatered garden, hoarding clodhoppers grin, separating everything The potential of plowed plants is nothing more than corrupt cactus, and invasive plant species in disguise, Proof they don't know the first thing when cultivating the perfect flowers, A die-hard moment- Not even the sun wants to climb up on the side of the landscape of falsehood Sickened by the holes and yellow stains of dust and dirt, broken by the Farmer and torn overalls By daylight, the gardener lives kneeling, tending the greenhouse, of lies By nighttime, the grower, swallows, by singing and tossing salads all night. The Tree continues to grow, The Gardner Cries