It Takes Both the Sweet and the Sour
It Takes Both the Sweet and the Sour
If a plantation,
one very fair and grand,
with a large gate;
a security guard has it manned.
Where a fruit grew,
thirst and hunger fulfilled;
anew.
If a plantation,
such a grand place,
grew Golden Delicious,
I would be one of ten percent,
of Granny Smiths.
Driven sour,
all the hours,
because of higher powers.
If a plantation,
one that grew Golden Delicious,
allowing an infestation of Granny Smiths,
was to be closed,
the sour would be blamed.
The Granny Smiths would remain,
the only ten percent maimed.
If a plantation,
a guarded one,
that grew Golden Delicious,
but was poisoned,
and shut down,
by a power so great,
that it won’t allow a choice of mate,
not even a romantic date,
all out of utter hate.
This plantation,
riddled by Granny Smiths,
when only growing
Golden Delicious,
supposed sour;
acrid abomination.
If
this
plantation…
If it closes,
and the sour is blamed,
named,
and shamed,
stand forth and believe,
a sour is only sour,
if sweet remains sour,
reminisces of what’s ours,
in the corners where he cowers.
If sweet is sour,
and sour is sour,
what have we got?
A plantation poisoned,
uninhabited,
closed,
suppose…
acceptance?
Repentance, my gosh,
get off that bandwagon,
when all the girls –
that’s who you’re shaggin’.
So if that plantation,
the one growing Golden Delicious,
but also Granny Smiths,
comes too close,
do not sit there.
Do not take it.
Do not let it slide.
It is not an heir-
looming in the pit;
it is not mild.
Don’t act like a child.
That plantation fed many,
some like it sour.
Some like Granny Smiths,
in the midnight hour.
Golden Delicious,
but also Granny Smiths,
comes to close,
do not sit there.
Do not take it.
Do not let it slide.
It is not an heir-
looming in the pit;
it is not mild.
Don’t act like a child.
That plantation fed many,
some like it sour.
Some like Granny Smiths,
in the midnight hour.
