Molded

Yesterday was the day my grandma’s old house drove away.

Literally, we threw old chains around the boards and drove away!

It must have been at least three decades

since anyone’s lived in the wreckage!

Heck! It’s been at least five more

since they poured foundations and built the floors,

installed the windows and the doors; what’s more…

The Great Depression and some wars

had an effect upon my grandmother.

That’s how she became a hoarder.

Saving everything she could maybe use someday; in chaos without order.

At fourteen-years-old, I was already on the border

of the line that’s clear, defined right here:

a personality disorder.

From a broken home, I've been broke and homeless.

I broke the mold; sold it to broken foes. Let's

see, I’m forty-three, almost. It’s soon. November Thirty.

Now, I’ve come back home from three decades of living dirty.

After living with my father, after my parents’ first divorce,

I attended ten elementary schools and dropped out just before

I began the second semester of my single, senior year.

I ran away from home and court; responsibilities and fear.

I found that drugs could help me cope with my unstable nature.

From cigarettes, to beer and dope and sex and liquid papers!

I watched and learned from lots of pervs,

got burned but never caught the germs!

Deserved the wrath that I incurred.

Sure, it hurts but shots and burns

I opt to turn to plots and earn!

Forty acres from my grandma, when she passed, went to my mother.

Now, she is sick, so it’s up to me, my sister and two brothers

to remove the mess [Collection? Yes!]

of rat nests, snakes and spiders.

I’ve been trying to get this project started

since my sis was wearing diapers!

But I’m the selfish, know-it-all: The narcissistic A-Hole?!

Hey! Don’t y’all remember, I’m not the family member on parole!

I’m the oldest son of three with only ZERO felonies!

My baby-mamas might be loose but still knew better than to tell on me!

They also don’t do drugs like us; or remain trailer trash.

We stay country-living on a mound of waste and ash!

“I’M CHANGING THAT!”

I’ve been long times from this place to do my drugs and drinking

but while I was tweaking out there, creeping,

I was also eating healthy, reading, studying and thinking.

I decide my brainwaves, my brain stays my brain’s ways.

I re-hydrate my brain because I dehydrate on a daily basis!

I’ve been researching and watching these recent food documentaries.

Mentally, I’ve collected something like a friend in me.

More, like ten to be… exact.

Me up front, nine other versions in the back.

My thoughts are filled with visions of the future and the past.

My actions only show the world I will not take its crap!

Unless it really IS manure, non-GMO; has to be pure,

organic only from the finest sources:

cows, chickens, rabbits, horses!

I need that $#!t to make compost;

feed the garden; grow what I eat, not smoke!

It’s not hoax!

I’ve got a permaculture plan

for a man to become a man by growing food upon this land!

I know I can!

My grandmother herded cattle

grew a garden, repaired fences, even tractors when they rattled.

I’ve spent the better part of almost two-years’ unemployment

on things I need to make this dump a place of some enjoyment.

Solar panels, turbines, pumps, work lights and wheelbarrow,

wood chipper, chainsaws, also guns, bullets, bows and arrows.

I’ve dug holes, set posts, hauled cars,

aluminium cans and other junk.

I’ve set corn out for deer and hogs;

set traps for rats and skunks.

This Coronavirus-Cancel-Culture called me out of hiding.

I’m sober now,

so "Brrr", like, “WOW”!

A frozen, bolt of lightning!

Don’t go getting frightened! I’m only writing what I’m living!

If you’re livid by my light you might just need forgiveness!

So… I’ll give it.

Here it is. Put that in your pocket.

Pull it out and put that in your pipe when you feel like smoking!

Don’t forget to pass it to somebody else in need.

How you think I got enough for you to get enough from me?

So, if you really want to come and see my skill,

come and C-L-I-M-B that hill

with me and then you’re gonna see I’m real!

Together, we can seed-plant and be that heal!

I gotta win this contest to contest the context

of this Con-Test I was born into so I don’t become the con next!

I’m home right now, in my zone like a plow.

Fingers on the keyboard. Click, clack, BOOM! Lights out!

I can type it, I can rap it, I can sing it karaoke!

You don’t know me! No phonies! I’m your Oklahomie!

Been verified to reside in the Show-Me with dope fiends!

Let it go in 2-0-0-4, now I know how to grow weeds!

Trying to keep it low-key and grow weed-free in pots with seeds!

Not weed! I’m talking, let's keep lots of bees!

And for that I’m gonna need to drop some trees

chop the pieces up and finally STOP THE WEEDS!

Mulch the land with mass wood chips.

If I COULD get some soil instead of this sand and bull’s hits

That would be COOL! Kids,

to get a buzz, tell your parents to come visit us!

Of course, you’ll have to wait until we get our bees' knees business up

and humming because right now it isn’t much!

First things first, I gotta get back to work.

I took a break for lunch and been sitting here perched,

while I chirp and sing my song like a bird to the wind.

So, here we go, making our home,

our homestead, again.