mining the farm

I’m a miner
it’s true
I am also
a farmer

where I buy
I work the land

grain in grain country
in the hills

I could argue
I farm my places
than they’ve ever
been farmed before

look at the yield
from the wheat last year

at the condition I’ve got
on every lamb

the apples
would green
my old granny

and the pears
are a beauty
to behold
so don’t try to tell me
I am no farmer

I grow weary
of hearing
that kind of thoughtless thing
being said

and it’s true
that I am also mining
there’s plenty here
right here
in the ground

and it is me
who owns this land

and I’ll mine
what is mine
and I’ll farm it

and the rest of you

of the rest of you
go to hell
and just be damned

© Frank Prem, 2017

December 2017 Poem #23 the shop

4 thoughts on “mining the farm

  1. Another thing: The irony of the farming in America: Not that it’s the current farmers’ “fault” but the Native Americans were excellent farmers. They don’t teach the kids (these days in schools) that the Native Americans were superb farmers (in big, cooperative, trading nations) who actually farmed way more than they hunted. The Europeans slaughtered the Native Americans, calling them savages, and took their crop varieties, such as corn, squash, and pumpkins, and continued to farm those crops.

    Liked by 1 person

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