what life's lost ... might be compost..*

So cultivating (weeds from) soil 'sa job
that every farmer has to do on land
for which they are responsible. They rob
some plants of life, to do their job at hand.

And yes they will commit a crime by some
ways of seeing life (like Mr. Singer's).
Thus "Species-ism" is the word some come
up with, for folk who act as those 'sinners'

who make distinctions here between species,
& choose for different blocks of land which ones
will be allowed to breathe (or make faeces),
& procreate, & live under our sun's

beams of light and energy that spark
the making & the storage of sugars,
as starches, & as wood, that's then em-barked..
The farmer pulls some out - just like boogers!

And I'm a farmer, in a sort of way.
And also too then, I'm his block of soil.
So crops that grows in me are (as they say)
defining of the stuff my life embroils.

And crops lend of their names to their paddocks,
- so while it grows that crop, that's how it's known.
And I'm a kind of (Farmer/Block) - addict,
and any passing seeds are what gets sown.

But One thing that I seem to have the power
to do is dig around the roots, disturb,
(with the Gard'ner's help, from hour to hour)
the kind of plants I want to treat like turds.


* In the light of my experience this week, with God (& my our traitorous heart), this appears to be Part Two, following on from "oh me thinks that that stinks",
 & then a few days later followed by: "choose companions and array antagonists".