The tree of liberty

The tree of liberty

A Poem by SkinlessFrank

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. -Thomas Jefferson


1. Sometimes a fatted pig will wander off from the pen and find his way to the pond on the edge of the property.  If it’s dark or foggy, he may fall in and sink to the bottom.  Only later when his carcass has filled with methane and mucous will he float to the surface.  You’ll know he’s been in the water for a while when you see the bloat, the blisters oozing, and the skin sloughing off in large sheets.  Don’t go there.  It might reflect poorly on you.


2. Ok.  So you didn’t listen.  You went ahead and fetched a stick and poked.   And you were taken aback by just  how easily it slid through his tissues, like the time when that pigeon alighted on your hand, and you were startled by how it weighed almost nothing at all.  So to see what might come of it, you wiggled the stick, and suddenly what was left of the liver and kidneys popped up onto the surface and spit a stream of fluid into your mouth. They drifted towards you and away again, like your lost toy sailboat, the one that got off the string and floated down the rapids in Lucerne.  Over the falls it went, under the covered bridge, and that was the end.


3. Of course you still eat blood sausage.  Why wouldn't you?  The texture is rubbery but the taste is well ….. like metallic on your tongue.   But this blood will not wash away your sins.  It’s more like Pepsi Cola, or maybe Mountain Dew.


© 2018 SkinlessFrank

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I think that perhaps the tree of liberty might be better refreshed by inviting the world's 'leaders' and their cohorts, (I refer to those with their corporate snouts in the trough,) to be the first to man the front lines.

Peace, and thus liberty for all, is sure to follow tout de suite.

A fascinating and quite uniquely fashioned poem.


Posted 2 Months Ago

-- i'm preoccupied with the transition from my own past (controlled by a tyrant) to the present moment (brimming with liberty), so i'm reading this post through my prism... -- it reminds me of how we sometimes ignore all warnings and take the worst decision of our lives... and later... we even consume what's left... maybe even relish parts of it... -- but the business of relishing what's left doesn't take care of our blunders... -- that's an entirely different process of deconstruction and reconstruction... -- i really like how powerfully vivid this piece is...

Posted 2 Years Ago

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I'm glad I can't smell these anatomical prose displays of yours, though I'm feeling the disgust just the same.
Some real substance you got here, SF. I almost feel bad for laughing, but I can't help myself :)

Posted 2 Years Ago

I love this, it reminds me so much of how curious we all are as children on a farm, learning of life and death.

Posted 4 Years Ago

Oh my. Childhood memories on the farm... learning the basics of life and death. How all comes from the ground, returns in one manner or another, and the curiosity of it all. Of course we poke it, touch it if no one is looking. Ha! Then eat the thing!

There was no part of a pig that didn't get used other than the squeal!

Posted 4 Years Ago

I'm tying in this biblical idea of being reincarnated/resurrected into a pig.
or "Let rotting pigs float"
This is tying into a lot of things,
but what I think what you're really getting at is that on a biological level, there is no difference between things. During this singularity mindset, essentially everything can be related, but the artist is revealed in their choices of connections.

It takes poking the pig sometimes to really get it.
Hakuna Matata

Posted 4 Years Ago

Cynical and perverse as this piece might seem, Frank, I think I see your kindness and sincerety in that toy sailboat. And in your case, I strongly doubt it is lost.

Posted 5 Years Ago

That was quite humorous... I think it also goes along the lines that you can make something good out of a bad situation.

Posted 6 Years Ago

Trala trala the entrails of a pig. My neighbor lady farmer lady would make head cheese and blood sausage. She and her farmer husband took me and half dozen other boys in and taught them about work and love. I always like the peverse nature of the stuff that you write.

Posted 6 Years Ago

I didn't realize that you and Benedict sixteen, talk about Barack Obamas breath with different poetries, hidden behind your mother's sent, there use to be a time where John Paul would of been sad. So the next time when you think of Michael Jackson's feet, think before you describe your stylist's approach to your beard. There was another case, where your mother's sent could be heard through cheese that develops in that lens. Keep in mind what's free, like health care that doesn't cover a hairbrush made from a half empty. So forget that tape that speaks through your words hairbrushes are made for the scalp not for brushing a careless thoughts of poems. And a property with square meters, is made for a fan who's obsessed with a Vageta. Paw lay view Farsey comon top all to chi man am eye ram. Good very Good shrinks towards the end, yet it shows that it can't stay away.

Posted 6 Years Ago

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25 Reviews
Shelved in 4 Libraries
Added on January 12, 2012
Last Updated on August 26, 2018



Glen Sutton, Quebec, Canada

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