In barter has exchange rooted its satisfaction
For the pintle and little nipple fenced to meet multiplication
This business blesses bodies upon beds or boughs
Then the green in the heat upon the earth photosynthesise
Except mulching be done or weedicides be sprayed
Except rooting be done or seed be waste.
Who shall not trade or who’ll stop commerce?
Though for prophecy Zeus unfathered Achilles
He must sire Heracles though Hera be fire
Then who shall not trade?
Oh… I remember, some may be too sacred items!
But who’ll stop commerce?
The creator’s produced of nature
Shall man not get their stocks?
It’s a business of the earth
Shall man not be full of features,
Shall the retailing not be done?
Nature’s the wholesaler
And upon its profit doth man pleasure themself
Retailing seed to the consumer-earth
Which allow time flow in his barn
And upon befitting cooking and scent
Of the seeds into dishes and tastes for tongues
The earth consumes them all
This trade tastes better to the bodies
But latter and finally
Fathering and mothering is a business for the earth
Your future ladder I suppose is heading backward
And then you wonder and wander
And cry and hope
Upon essence of siring,
You’re only able to see that
Albeit it’s a must to mate to multiply
Upon seeds and planting;
Upon plants and weeding;
Upon crops and maturing;
Upon growth and harvesting;
Upon storing or cooking;
Upon glory and achieving;
Upon praises and vanity;
Upon tastes and feats of tongues;
It’s all vanity.
But behold the truth I tell you
That the trauma of sectionalism and hegemony
And frustration upon corruption and impunity
And injustice and poverty,
Climaxing into hopelessness
Makes a man to grimly mind marrying and mating,
And siring and merrying
As sourced from nought and for nought.
But birds must search for joy and comfort
Wherever they may get it.
And should you brace yourself to fly from home
I’ll lend you wings of winning.