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FARMER
Cutlasses there playing with no grass
hoe is a free-man,sleeping on the rows
weeds are giggling,celebrating coolness of air
and menacing the integrity of growing-tuber
season is almost depraved
and homaging invitation of foodless time
isn't that an artificial call?
nature could not help if that done
nation is crying
children are undelighted
as they denobled moon-tale
father mother 're screaming like fish
farmer there bending the ache-waist
to donate is energy for world free
still they denyed and helped no
they say,they bring food down
to cause the pain of their haste
well,they get peniless to grow the effort
