‘So what did you do there?’
They’ll ask me as we’re driving through traffic in this prison of concrete
SUVs the new tanks on the street, go for out for lunch with the parents spend 12,000 gallons for one pound of meat.
No more kebabs, hamburgers, or shishlik.
I’m a stranger, in a foreign land, find it difficult to relate, much easier to discriminate.
Just after 10 weeks born again a man anew the dirt sieved away from Kaplan and his crew. And I’m fearing that I’m about to forget everything I knew, disappear like organic matter from the pages burning away through compost stages and slave wages because not everyone has the magic touch so Mike grab your chooparim and please pack up. And no, you don’t have to bring the kids this time.
What a hussle, this struggle. I’m just one, one of many enlightened with the ethic, to save Her before we wreck it. An army of soldiers with pitchforks and shovels, take some seeds on your way out for all your needs and troubles. Listen to the word and spread it. Grow your own food and if you can’t go biodiesel then ya better to go unleaded.
Permaculture. Is what I’ll tell ’em I discovered. To my mom my neighbor even my younger brother. But how can you explain a vision, a perspective, and whole new philosophy. cause I’m thinking: ‘Shit. I’m on stage. Is everyone laughing at me?’ Worms bins and bloody shins..gives me head spins. So little I know, just the tip of the iceberg, no genius at work, writing all these words. So has it all been a waste? This taste – a quick short breath of fresh air. What do I leave with, but books and smiles and compost piles, could be here longer I think I’ll stay here for a while.
I need more coats! More mud coats ’cause I don’t have enough my sand scorched skin just not quite rough. But I’m leaving now, on a jet-train with seeds in my pocket, I’m ready to rock it and grow me some rocket put me in the greenhouse take the keys and lock it.
Answer. To question number two, to Mike Kaplan and the GA crew.
Listen up because this is what it’s all about: When the seed turns to flower, the flower to tree what do you get but self sufficiency? So that’s it Bill, that’s permaculture. To me. Recreate yourself, live like a tree, keep ya head up, and listen to the beat.