Long Husbandry Poems
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Bones and their ash remain,
retain and nourish
the under-croft, the terrain.
The meadow green.
Bones replant.
The dead feed the living,
and the living cut down the living
to feed themselves.
The world must eat itself.
This is called husbandry and farming.
It is also called shopping and carrying,
killing, and butchery.
Those that eat only vegetables
also partake.
A grave is a half-way house,
Urns are waiting rooms.
The soil nurses bones,
worms wheel the earth towards the sky
for its blessing.
Osseous clouds seed nations.
What follows bone and bone ash
becomes the crop,
the tomorrow-cart laden
with its bone harvest.
Bone-flowers scent the air.
Bones underpin bridges and wingspans,
citadels of stone.
Bone dust scaffolds every stem and branch.
Bones in tombs and catacombs
are food for the larder.
A storage for generations.
Stars shed their elemental dust,
becoming bone fodder.
Bone ash is the genesis
of all unknown beginnings.
Bones remain, retain, and nourish
the under-croft, the terrain,
the meadow green.
Bones replant. They are meals for
the mouths of ghosts.
The dead feed the living,
and the living cut down the alive
to feed themselves.
The world must eat itself.
This is called husbandry and farming.
It is also called shopping and carrying,
killing, and butchery.
Those that eat only vegetables
also partake;
for the leaf and stalk
are seeded in the mellowing marrow
of a long planted bone-sown mire.
Often bones are dropped into the soil
as if the dirt were an ocean
and the land all that is or was left-over.
This is known as litter.
A grave is a half-way house,
Urns are waiting rooms.
Worms wheel the bon-rich earth
towards the sky for its blessing.
Osseous is the ancestry that seeds nations.
What follows bone and bone ash
becomes the crop, the tomorrow-cart
laden with its bone harvest.
Bone-flowers scent the air
from the empty canals of nowhere.
Bones scaffold wingspans,
they riddle citadels of stone.
Bones in tombs and catacombs
are pabulum for the larder.
A storage for generations.
Baby you mean the world
to me
not doubt about it
I want the world to see
We talking love
comittments
and obligation
love me honestly
love me honestly
noble thoughts
thrilling reflections
positioning me
into a lovers usefulness
to disagree
would leave me rejected
keep you close
what we have together
we start to protect it
exicted in my own mind
to speak
I love you
a husbandry natural
wrecked of loneliness
I never wanna be like that
the hunger and want
to the rendering of us together
early insights
to say you'll leave me never
I can truely say
in candor truth and being sincere
I love you
is something
I need to hear
From Blue skies dark nights
by Matthews and Driggs
Composed by Fendt Ludovico
and Calow Ludovico
some appears from
"Warm Jacket: Cold Woman"
performed by Mittez and Doodle Music Company
Built pondage on the river
To benefice farming and husbandry;
Fruitful sources of food for the villagers.
Right-minded under the Nature.
Any pondage has strengths and weaknesses.
The builder must prepare for its consequence
Pondage can retain the water
From rain or streams of the upper forest.
Pondage can delay the water,
But drainage must be built.
If not, the pondage will evoke problems:
The water will overflow, collapse the dam,
Flood houses and, farms and destroy livestock.
Build a pondage on the mass
Is to retain the people’s thinking,
Must also build suitable drainage.
Otherwise, the people’s needs will overflow.
Limiting men’s minds is breaking their hearts:
The dictatorial way!
If one will but convey sincerity, the world will frequently rise to their side
And powerful people flock there as well, appealing to presence and pride
Swelling the ranks and the banks and ambitions of any who will row with the crew
Or play with the band on the wagon which plays into their sycophant's view
And if we relate to the weight of this kind of collective bargain
We might rally, sallying forth to the cause, manufacturing sense, and also some rain
Turning sense into cents is a most noble cause, industry, husbandry, work without pause
Marches and rallys support those most diligent, invested in that which has brought them to light
And lighted they'll stay until death do them part, apart from the day which might cause to benight
Canine calamity follows that day just as surely as that day will follow that night
And some, but not all, will follow the path that causes this folly, before it's a cause to take flight
While we revel in clever debate and discourse, and pursue dialectic with purpose and vigor
It's with special purpose that speciousness fills all those who falsely shout "Stand and deliver"
And deliver the speeches which serve to dissemble in due course their own course to serve
It takes special skill to pursue that which isn't really a special display of infectious nerve
The skill that it takes is sincere self-deception, elevated to the point of the state of prominence
Which delivers rapscallions their status, position, all while in pursuit of their own dominance
"The world will little note, nor long remember," sincerer words were never spoken
But history will forever note the humility accompanying the grace
Beside which superficial sincerity is recorded as token
The dustpan of history has not stomach nor space
To accept from the broom these bits of delusional grandeur
Displaying with sincerity the rank similarity 'tween the means of this influence… and the scent of manure
Nothing boot toe till rot and duff feet...
Attempting nightly ritual
nsync with sole and
instep of beat
January second 21:08
two thousand twenty
footwear equipped with
custom made cleat
proudly standing tall
(think) as an elite
able, eager, and ready
to sprint skyhigh fleet
ting into netherlands
(towering well over
other wiry antennae thin contestants,
hence exception to
maximum height waved
outrageous illegitimate forfeit
chore blithely Atlas shrugged off),
whereby said marathoner Olympian
amidst godly pantheon did greet,
competitors crouched tigerlike
ironically melting starter blocks
deftly gunning generating barreling heat
fast as greased lightning
Achilles catapulted courtesy blur,
zee mist tree (oak kay)
man, i.e. helpmeet,
he roundly squared off
accompanied by his wifely entreat.
Thus situated, positioned, and finagled
husbandry duty obliging the misses,
no matter she kick started
(think thrashing outsize overgrown toddler)
childish task deemed
markedly cockameemie design,
subsequently these little feet (mine)
stood stolid upon bedroom floor
she did man date me,
I supplicated, necessitated,
implored, and decried divine
intercession, cuz thee mademoiselle
did authoritatively assign,
thee mister getting mine
handy dandy grip upon her supine
corpulent physique
outstretched leaden legs
awaiting (Abby) salute perfect sign
to commence powerfully
prying and pulling
first straight then nine
tee degrees practically prostrating self
footloose and eventually
detaching fancy free
thunder thighs, what strong
amazing anatomical design
nearly defying might
of super Matt nein
bird brainer heron,
an ill eagle cro-magnon scheme
to untie clodhoppers
snug as a bug in a rug,
whence laces got knotted
freaking me out clearly
out this world,
wide webbed formerly
Gordian tangled skein.
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.
This was written sometime back when a bird had built a nest on a bushy tree in my garden… I waited counting down days to see the eggs hatched. But what happened in the end was heart breaking!
A nest of intricate design
a piece of art unmatched in decor
built amid the dark verdure of clustered leaves-
the gay habitat of a robin and her brood.
How suddenly it erupts into a clatter of sounds,
as the mother bird comes diving in
with a wee bit of a wriggling worm
discreetly borne in her tiny beak.
Thrusting it into the gaping mouths,
she departs and comes again
and again, comes with something
a whirring insect or a twisting thing.
Nothing can appease her ravenous horde
and on she goes ferreting about.
At night fall she alights abrupt
from what infinite heights, God alone knows
darting into her nest as she hovers,
the din subsides.....
first into a fizzle, then into sharp silence
Bundled in her warmth, the little ones
sleep till the first flutter of dawn
From my window, I enjoy this diurnal scene
repeating itself in methodical precision
until someday, into heaven’s insurmountable heights
the young ones take off on tiny wings!
A sight so accustomed, cheery and gleeful,
my eyes would soon be deprived of
and the thought makes me ill at ease.
A wonder it is, the young ones
inexperienced though, thrives so well
on catapulted suddenly into an eerie world!
What husbandry in nature!
What Godly solicitude!
The next morn, my heart missed a beat
at what I espied through my open window.
On the ground lay the swallow’s nest
ripped, broken and blown to pieces
like a heap of rubble after a tremor.
By its side lay a few downy feathers-
the sad reminder of a stark felony!
In an instant flashed past
the grim image of the black Tom cat
that prowls my courtyard in the dark
with glowing eyes and bristly whiskers.
Damning that accursed thing,
I picked up that wreckage,
my mind violently mutinying over
the ‘insolent might’!!
Nothing boot toe till rot and duff feet...
concerning yours truly
poor righteous leftist sole.
Great way to begin the new year
mine little feet about size nine wear
sneakers acquired At Ian's Boots
not for profit business
origin of said enterprise
brings more'n one tear.
Attempting nightly ritual
nsync with sole and
instep of beat
January second 11:33
two thousand twenty two
footwear equipped with
custom made cleat
proudly standing tall
(think) as an elite
able, eager, and ready
to sprint skyhigh fleet
ting into netherlands
(towering well over
other wiry contestants,
hence exception to
maximum height waved
outrageous illegitimate forfeit
chore blithely Atlas shrugged off),
the fountain head
whereby marathoner Olympian
amidst godly pantheon did greet,
then melted starter blocks
competitors crouched tigerlike
deftly gunning generating barreling heat
fast as greased lightning
Achilles catapulted courtesy blur,
zee mister (oak kay)
tree - man, i.e. helpmeet,
he roundly squared off
accompanied by his wifely entreat
for sakes Pete.
Thus situated, positioned, and finagled
husbandry duty obliging the misses,
no matter she kick started
(think thrashing outsize toddler)
childish task deemed
markedly cockameemie design,
subsequently these little feet (mine)
stood stolid upon bedroom floor
she did man date me,
supplicating, necessitating,
imploring, and decrying divine
intercession, cuz thee mademoiselle
did authoritatively assign,
thee mister getting mine
handy dandy grip upon her supine
corpulent physique
outstretched leaden legs
awaiting (the missus)
salute perfect sign
to commence powerfully
prying and pulling
first straight then nine
tee degrees practically pulling
footloose and eventually
detaching fancy free
thunder thighs, what strong
amazing anatomical design
nearly defying might
of super rich a$$ a nein
bird brainer heron
an ill eagle cro-magnon scheme
to untie clodhoppers
snug as a bug in a rug,
whence laces unknotted free
and clear whirled,
wide webbed formerly tangled skein
fo shoe more intolerable
than swallowing quinine.
A little tree in the middle of winter.
While, all others had taken a rest,
Was left to ponder, when is my break.
Why must my leaves stay green.
For, what purpose have I been called out.
Then, in gratitude,seeing there must still be,
One, that needs this fruit.
Absorbing, from an unknown source to many,
The leaves embrace the sunlight's touch,
Waiting patiently to pull in the warmth,
From a cold harsh darkened night,
Throwing up braches to the sun,
The dew is drawn within the veins.
In excitement of this new day,
To grow as much as possible,
While, the sun draws ,the lifted branches ,
towards its direction to breathe in life.
In excitement to bring forth the good fruit,
To one that comes by on this wayward path.
Seeking, this fruit where none other come from.
That this fruit might dwell within to create a new life.
??1 Corinthians? ?3:6?-?9? ?KJVAAE??
[6] I have planted, Apol´los watered; but God gave the increase. [7] So then neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase. [8] Now he that planteth and he that watereth are one: and every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labor. [9] For we are laborers together with God: ye are God's husbandry, ye are God's building.
Picture my brother sent to me of his tree on January 15,
Enspired this writing: ) God's beautiful creation is all around us when we seek: )