Farm

The Off Grid Life

the off-grid life.

untied from the shackles of strife,

2017, the modern existence,

getting on the property ladder, how does anyone have a chance?
20, 25 or 30, forced to work to pay every bill,

going to work all hours, struggling to find a way, a life against our will,

needing the money from any form of work, mostly unprogressive, unhappy 
life passing by, frustrating, anger, decreasing self-worth, causing individuals to be snappy

unfulfilled, potentials are not met, working a job all day, unable to progress,

money is the key factor, for bills to be met, let me digress.

often they still aren't causing pain and suffering, stress and depression,

homelessness is rife through the country, a feeling of regression,

a feeling of being stuck, how to retrain and improve your careers?
speak to friends or family and the same conversation, doubts, and fears
if only another option was available,

one that was accepted and not just for the vulnerable,

the homeless, the people with nothing,

but how is this existence different? it is truly crushing,

once you can see that your life is consumed with working for money,

the soul has passed, your energy too, it can get so hard it's not even funny,

but who understands? in the face of consumerism, higher purchase, loans, and debt,

who is living a life, truly satisfied, and their dreams are met?

Not all people living off-grid are rich in cash!
but they aim for other needs; security in food & energy, it's worth a bash,


 

a growing transition for many people too,

it's not just for the hippies, the spiritual, it's for people like me and you,

think about it for a moment or two...

who would you be without your car, house and your possessions?
is that person you portray the real you? or do you blend in so people don't ask questions?
are you honest with your family and friends?

or do you sit behind a desk wishing it would end?
there is a wealth of knowledge of old traditions,

from a time when they lived without these conditions,

the conditions of social media, advertising, marketing ads or vlogs

when screen time didn't consume every waking hour, and children were fascinated with tadpoles transforming into frogs.

hours spent outside, climbing trees, playing at the park,

not allowed home unless it was tea time or had gotten dark.

 

a shift is happening, ecotherapy, wild schooling, bushcraft, and hikes,

forest schooling, homeschooling, people walking and out on their bikes,

scientists are noticing the effects on children's behaviors, reduced health issues,

ADHD,  also a boost in self-awareness, positivity, confidence and mental health issues

is it easier to sit a child down to hours in front of the tv, or ipad?

than it is to spend a few hours playing down the park with dad?

or baking a cake with mum, the importance of these skills are being misplaced,

in this consumerism world, with employees a number, in a life so fast-paced.

 

Off-grid living, the communities hidden away,

all they want is a parcel of land to look after their needs, but hey,

that's not possible, 'cause where will the local council get their tax,

with the community, living off the land, growing food and chopping wood with an axe,

the need and usage of government-owned services would become minute,

living simply and within your skills of the land, renewables used, an abundance of fruit,

food preserved in many forms, jams and chutneys, frozen meat,

enough food to last year-round to survive through winter, or in the heat,

the food produced off the land, tending the garden, and grown for nutrition,

the most important for life and health also said to aid in remission.

off grid homesteaders, don't need to take the flack,

with health as the focus, working outdoors to provide, lowering the need for prozac,
comments from shallow minded people need not be said,

the power of community, working together, I want to spread,

to include children in the transition, of conserving nature and our wildlife,

 

the tranquil setting amongst the seasons, watching the stars, that's my type of nightlife.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my first time sharing my poetry, (after a few friends encouraged me that I should) please be kind and send your thoughts.

Also all words are opinions of myself in the modern world that we live in. 

This is not meant to cause offense, harm, upset to anyone, and if it does please understand that is not my intention.

 

Many thanks,

Grandma on the Farm

grandma on the farm

wearing a checkerboard

apron

canning fruit

a life of cowboy

boots

blue jeans

and calloused hands

fighting for the

Promised Land

grandma on the farm

the old days

and the

old school ways

daddy was a miner

coal gravesites

mine shafts and

Kentucky blue

soils

water boats

and American flags

dogs that bark

and bacon n' eggs

for tired legs

apple jelly and

grape juice

grandma once

shot a Moose

wrinkled and weathered

hot dogs and mustard

grandma was a fight

died at 99

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Brash

Folder: 
Personal

"This is it,

the last time.

Not my last time,

for there will be many more,

 

but before I go,

take a second.

Or two.

As though leaving a humble abode

 

for the last time.

Or realistically,

one to be proud of,

one no need for humility.

 

A tendency to be crass, 

the one-stop coffeeshop 

that was the first building

foot stepped in,

 

the exact final destination

of a journey

across from

one Ocean to the next.

 

First impressions,

wild differences between

vernacular and tone,

'shaka brah', 

 

and an immediate inquiry

as to where the hell

I come from.

Brash,

 

but immediately warm

the very first contact

turned out to be,

only to observe

 

more than a year of stumbles,

pieces scribbled,

baristas in and out,

one to be a brother

 

calling this location

headquarters,

locomotives blaring by

in a flash of red

 

everyday.

Bicentennial

the count not of years,

but of poetic conveyance,

 

written in the soft glow

of this shop,

this shop the subject

times so often giving

 

detail to who,

what, where,

and how that one girl,

that one time,

 

smelt as she walked by.

Edited,

the time spent 

since the Spring,

 

but some things never change,

and that's how at home

I feel in this booth.

Bottoms up,

 

here's to you,

one last brew,

one last time. 

No more lines

 

to be written

here,

skate to the next place,

though it won't be the same."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Home, closed down... I'll be wandering around town on a longboard for awhile. Two books written here at Brash Coffee, the local coffee shop I walked in the first hour of being in Chattanooga.

 

Cheers, Brash.

Why I'm Country

People always ask me, 'what makes you country'?

It's growin up on the farm, helping my pa feed the cows, fix the fences, and clean the horse stalls. Its swimming in the cold creek out back, playing around on the land, and riding Cocoa around. It's coming home everyday to family and a home cooked meal. It's running from the geese and looking after the goats.

It's watchin and momma Clydesdale stay strong after a car accident and eventually give birth to her baby. It's watching her baby grow knowin nothin but the momma, the farm, and our family. It's riding CJ up and down the hills, drinking water from a well and having more animals than fingers and toes.

Even after moving from the farm, it's working hard for what you got and never thinking of yourself better than anyone else. It's having a few beers around a bonfire, it's skinning deer and listening to that old Chris LeDoux cd. It's about saying yes ma'am and yes sir. It's about manners.

It's about faith and God, prayer and praise. Even with life is at its worst.

I show it proudly. I wears my cowboy boots and my cowboy hat. I wear my jeans high and my shirt tucked in. I drive my truck with 'Country Boy Can Survive blaring.

Its watching 8 Seconds at least twice a week, it's eating fly chicken fried, spending time with my family and it's that want deep down to ride that bull.

Being country don't have nothing to do with where you're from and what you do for a living. It's about who are and how you live. It don't matter if you grew up in the sticks or in a big city. Everyone has a little country in them, some ignore it but I embrace it.

I don't care if you like it, I don't care if you don't. All I care about is those closest to me in life. My family, my friends, and that special girl I call my own.

That's what makes me country and fact is, I'm damn proud of it.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For those who asked why I'm country.

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A Day At The Farm

Once on a farm
There was a grand old barn
With an old cottage sat in the sun
And animals out in the run

The sun held high
Up in the sky
Glistened on the ground below
With the quiet murmur of the cello

The music was soothing
The animals weren’t moving
And the world stopped
As a grasshopper hopped

Then the hustle and bustle of cattle
Made the ground shake and rattle
As they moved towards the sound
And gathered all around

The farmer played the cello
It made the cattle mellow
Then silence hit the hills
As the farmer finished his trills

The day drawing to its end
Meant the cattle went back to the pen
Then peace and tranquillity roamed
And that’s what makes home sweet home

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is more of a child rhyme, its very pleasant.