Monday, April 25, 2011

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry

Goodness sakes alive, I can't get enough of Wendell Berry.  I had the pleasure of cramming into a PACKED lecture hall last semester and hearing him read from his latest book and recite some of his poems.  He was just the most lovely man.  He is famous for writing about the beauty of nature, rural life and the necessity of conserving and cherishing it.  He also grew up in Kentucky and has the most precious accent.  There is something special about hearing someone read their own writing, whether poetry or prose.  Where I often find frustration through the limiting nature of the written word, hearing it read aloud by it's author breathes a certain life into the linear writing.  
Anyway, Mr. Berry finished his talk by reading the following poem from one of his books he borrowed from an eager woman in the front row.  It was an absolutely perfect series of moments and made this poem all the more special to me.




Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front


Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready-made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head. 
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer. 

When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you 
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something 
that won't compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor. 
Love someone who does not deserve it. 

Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed. 

Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias. 
Say that your main crop is the forest 
that you did not plant, 
that you will not live to harvest. 

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. 
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees 
every thousand years. 

Listen to carrion -- put your ear 
close, and hear the faint chattering 
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful 
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men. 

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child? 
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 

Go with your love to the fields. 
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts. 

As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn't go. 

Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction. 

Practice resurrection.  

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Music: Wedding Dress, Derek Webb

Take a listen, and if you have a bit to read and process, take a look at this: http://www.leaderu.com/marshill/mhr08/curtis1.html



If you could love me as a wife 
and for my wedding gift, your life 
Should that be all I'll ever need 
or is there more I'm looking for 

and should I read between the lines 
and look for blessings in disguise 
To make me handsome, rich, and wise 
Is that really what you want 

I am a whore I do confess 
But I put you on just like a wedding dress 
and I run down the aisle 
and I run down the aisle 
I'm a prodigal with no way home 
but I put you on just like a ring of gold 
and I run down the aisle to you 

So could you love this bastard child 
Though I don't trust you to provide 
With one hand in a pot of gold 
and with the other in your side 

I am so easily satisfied 
by the call of lovers so less wild 
That I would take a little cash 
Over your very flesh and blood 

Because money cannot buy 
a husband's jealous eye 
When you have knowingly deceived his wife