Sermons of A Turnip Farmer

Somewhere out there just before the horizon ends
Sits a turnip farmer all alone,


Talking about how the 7 deadly sins are stitched into every fabric, every Fibre of the universe
The worms stuffing their faces with greed and vegetable, stop to listen to him intently
As do the turnips, the soil, the nothingness and  even a prophet or two,

He talks and talks, that's all he does
About an old paint bucket rotting in a garbage island
The phallic shadows of the pillars of St Peter's
The hiss of aerosol filled with hatred and hunger
The ache in his groin for a basic purpose

Around 3000 miles east from where he is
I lay on the floor gazing through my ceiling,
The sky is purple for me here,
The fan yellowed by age and dust makes for a pretty sun,

Not able to speak but fully able to scream
I am stuck here imprisoned, in the solitude of my own mind
The greatest puzzle is not in the heavens, not in the earth, it's between our ears
The most misleading maze ever built,

Which or how many of the 7 sins are in me ? I hear him ask
Through the whisper and the waves of the wind
which shatter the silence of my prison cell like frost,

I have nothing to say to him ,
His sermons are for those who know their way out of the maze
All I have done is burn the whole thing down
Mind numb, thoughts indifferent, passions all extinguished
Living in limbo till the final summon


◄ Advice from a grave digger

Conversations with the angel of dawn ►


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Thu 21st May 2020 00:23

Nice one.
I enjoyed reading it
Thanks Mortimer


Wed 20th May 2020 22:30

Thanks for your words Martin,

This poem really was written in a dream, I just remember waking up from a nap and writing.

it really is something else when the words come to you by themselves isn't it?


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Martin Elder

Wed 20th May 2020 19:45

Iron and wine is a priceless writer and performer of songs. I love the dream like quality of this piece
Nice one


Wed 20th May 2020 10:12

Thanks for your thoughts John, Iron and Wine is one of my favorite singers I love this song of his and also cinder and smoke.

This life is meant to be lived once and lived well, with no pleasure left untasted regardless of dogmas.


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John Marks

Tue 19th May 2020 19:23

I like the portentous tone of this poem. We are all irreplaceable individuals, destined to live just the once. "When the time of our lives is all that we have." Sam Beam, 'Call it dreamin'


Tue 19th May 2020 13:06

Thanks Moon Girl and Po,

The idea of 7 major sins has always been very romantic to me, as I thought what makes a person a person is well these sins, they are what our base instinct is resorts to,

It has inspired me to write countless poems, some good, some bad, some forever forgotten.

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Tue 19th May 2020 10:58

I really enjoyed this.
Every now again a poem has the power to transport one into another world entirely... the world of another poets mind.

An alien landscape that seems so familiar as if we have wandered that way before.


A place we long to go, or heed the poets warning and never that way go.

A great poem from a swede basher in Sleepy Hollow.


Tue 19th May 2020 10:57

7 unforgivable sins. A nice concept between the ears. Some follow others don't. To each his own, to each his space.
Good one!

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