“The rabbits are eating my bean seedlings,” the farm maid did lament,
“It’s the year of the rabbit,” the neighbor muses on the grassy knoll,
“Last year it was the pig, and moles ate potato; rooting excrement!”
The way of the farm is balance with the Tao, don’t you know.
I’ll help, I’ll help, I surely will,
claim the winter farmers soldering on,
In meadow and row with cultivars and hay,
no one stands beside me today.
Modern “teach me to farm” youth.
It is good there are so many sheeple,
a Shepard and crook to align their thoughts,
when their freedom’s lost they weeple,
and remember all the undone things one aught.
Revolutions are circles coming back to the point,
they are not necessary to destroy the joint,
A japanese rabbit was born with no ears,
a metaphor of the sheeple has come here.
Lucifer is dancing on your crown,
Ahriman is chortling in your blood,
radioactive bullets will shoot you down,
mysteriously drop to Earth with a thud.
No one will know what did you in,
only the Japanese yang and yin.
We can’t we must we need our televisions,
Ipads, Iphones, chaos and confusions.
“When they talk of great peace,
war is at hand.” A prophet said,
in a far away land. Run sheeple run,
the moneychangers are in the Temple,
Lucifer’s buddies plain and simple.
Ahriman’s vaccines bloodied wimples.
Meat for the mill, the grinding precession,
bankers who want all your possessions.
Wall Street Cowboys morphed Spaghetti investurns.
Country Joe and your fish,
how can you allow this cold dish?
Where are the activist troubadors,
closed behind Satan’s door?
Revolution is organic,
in the face of GMO, CDS, LBOs, Soros,
Revolution is 1815 de JA vous,
horses buggies canal boats and wagons,
and honest clean root beer by the flagons.
When the oil drum runs dry what we’ll do.
Do you know how to carve a shoe?
“My Georgia Collards over wintered,
and now produce a fine batch of seed,”
proving once again Guidestone people,
are nothing more than a field of weeds.