Member Poem

How long will they keep bustin'
my chops?
All of 'em busybodies-watchdogs-
n' cops
Plowin' for the wicked-
who keep reapin'
my crops
Princesses wishin' to interweave
on their cruise
Hibernation-toleration-hoistin'
banner ambiguously
Delineation-intimidation-boastin'
in prosperity
Stupification-incineration-roastin'
in certainty
Dissin' to believe-spoutin'
whatever
Tares blowin' in my eyes-
in these harvester blues
So how can the bride's embroidery
remain in line?
When I stand with 7/8th wrench in hand-
overseas made requires millimeters
to monkey with this broken combine
N' four angels holdin' back the winds
Yet the east keeps messin'
up Nebraskan corn rows
'Cause the east wind suppin'
up the sand
OPEC cards holdin'
from Abraham's blessin'
But still causin' frustration from
our teeny weeny craniums
to our fungus embedded swollen toes
So ya can settle in between-
or meddle with a quarrel
not yours like grabbin'
a strange dog by the ears
or mind your own strength n' fears
like Ruth on the fringes of
the fields glean
Call off the calvary
'cause they're imputin'
the power n' might to themselves
All the good stuff not at eye level
but piled on top shelves
N' stock boy out back of store moonlightin' n' barterin'
So don't have to look that hard
n' see the battalion
'cause thousand more than a legion
of the National Guard broodin'
on the rabble rousing mob
convergin' on Washington
So through the seven thunders
I trust n' lean
my ear to hear the angel prompt
The One Who sits with the sharp sickle on the cloud-thrust!
for the harvest is ripe gather the clusters
into Your Winepress
don't look to the right or the left
'n fall for the hype of powerless gods
invented in their own distress
Cornerstone the builders rejected
unravel Your Plumbline
down to the cylinder of the yarn
ending this period of betrothal
for the bride has made herself ready
to be teamed to the year
of Your redeemed
So gather the outcasts
n' the distant isles into Your barn
No other credit than Your Bloodlettin'
You've done
with Your outstretched Arm
You planned well before the ark
was loaded with beasts in twos
N' the kicker may be surprisin' news
at the chaff You don't laugh
Yes showers of blessings
but amid the deluge is still
a colossal tear-
in Your Harvester blues.
1-25-2017 Duncan R. M. Ferguson