A Note to My Politicians

Hear me now:

Your pursuit for safety is as false as your concern for our health.

While you shake hands and lie in bed with chemical producers

and drug distributors

you cry out in the name of food safety,

to pasteurize, bleach, boil, package and inject

everything which passes our lips.

You can't serve it raw

because it is too dirty and dead.

You have never worked in real soil.

You have never washed earth off your food before preparing it.

You have never shaken sleepy bees from dewy blooms early in the day.

You are afraid of people who eat from their garden,

because their minds

are still their own.

Subsidize.

Pasteurize.

Sanitize.

Kill the small farmer.

Then sell us drugs

and flu shots.

Give us antidepressants.

Tell us to wear sunscreen and never go out into the sun.

Eat from a bag

or box

that's sealed and clean.

No I won't vote for this.

I have cast a different ballot,

and it is waiting at the end of my fork,

seared rare,

and dripping with unpasteurized cream sauce.

My hens will continue to lay warm eggs right into my fry pan

without your permission first.

I will give what little is left of the diminishing American dollar to my neighbor

in exchange for pastured pork

and raw milk.

I will spend time collecting seeds.

I will use butter liberally.

I will go out in the morning to harvest.

I will not drink your corn syrup.

I do not want your sterilized meat.

I don't want your drive-thrus and chains.

In the name of all that is patriotic,

I will drink milk straight from the happy cow.

Keep your red #40,

your food safety modernization act,

your myths.

Smoke your cigars and drink your scotch.

Sign your papers.

Legislate.

Your "safe" food

is a life lived behind bars.

If this is safety

keep it.

What you need

is some real food

my dear,

fear ridden

politician.

What you need

you will find

in raw milk cheddar

melted over homemade sourdough.

What you need

waits at the bottom

of a tall glass

brimming with handcrafted beer.

You will find peace

in slow roasted root vegetables,

dipping your crisp

thick-cut

pastured bacon

into your poached fresh egg.

Slurp a raw oyster

fresh from the sea.

Pass the butter.

Smell the herbs.

Drizzle the honey.

Break the bread.

I welcome you

to my renegade table,

my hungry politician.

But be prepared

to become

blinded

by the light.