Gardening – Anton Martin Smith Writer

“Leaves falling in a bored mans head” ( Prose/A Thought)

June 4, 2025June 6, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Artists, Autumn, blog, Boredom, Fall, Gardening, Humour, leaves, nature, observation, Physics, Poetry, social commentary, Spoken Word, trees, writingLeave a comment

By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Right now it is Autumn – or as the yanks say – “fall”.

The other day I looked at a giant pile of wind curated leaves on my front yard.

The thought appeared –

Each leaf has come from a particular tree, from a particular branch, & from a certain sub-branch,

But as I look at the big seemingly homogenous leaf pile – that information is not available to me personally.

The Physics man tells us in that theory you could somehow still “ID” any one of those leaves.

For the total information content of the universe is always preserved.

I thought that it’s pretty cool that there are trillions of seemingly indistinguishable leaves out there but the universe still knows exactly where they came from.

I also was kinda miffed that I’d never be able to find that info – or so I thought.

A couple of days later, most the leaves had fallen – so there were only a couple of hundred of leaves on each tree.

I watched one of them waggle on the tree, & I could even watch it waggle off from its precise location.

That meant when that leaf hit the big pile of its friends below,

I could know exactly where it used to live – which tree which branch which sub-branch it fell from.

A lot of artists say that science ruins the ‘magic’ of the world – I disagree –

I think both of these ‘where did the leaf live’ situations were interesting in their own right.

The real problem these artists who say science ruins ‘the magic of the world’ is they don’t know any science at all.

If they knew just a little about it, they’d see some of the magic in science too.

But I won’t labour the point –

I mean it’s not my place to once again throw the second law of infodynamics into another artists face.

I’ve been doing that far too much lately & I really must cut down on it.

And in closing If you ask someone be they a leaf, an artist, or a man of science

They will all agree that…

….I’ve got to fucking get out more….

But then again….

Is there really anything wrong with leaves falling in a bored man’s head?...

“The Gardener,The Clerk & The Witty Rejoinder” (A Poem)

October 2, 2024October 2, 2024Posted in UncategorizedTagged Cubicles, fiction, Gardening, Humour, Indoors, Office Culture, Offices, Outdoors, Poems, Working Class cultureLeave a comment

By Martin Anton Smith

Tonight pals,

I bring to you,

For the express purpose of piqing your thoughts,

& as a bonus to raise the corners of at least one mouth present,

A Poem.

A Poem,

About those ‘Most Excellent Men & Their Garden Machines’ Vs….

Those dull clerk folk in grey cubicle-cladded habitats in mega cities.

Of which I even used to be one.

(Poet Clears throat – ‘ahem’ etc)

Let me begin at the middle –

exactly where I am now.

In outdoors work,

The rain brings a refrain.

But in an office –

It brings on nothing new –

Just more of the same.

Moreover

Those who plack,

Do so easily get the sack!

While those who dig,

Have it all positively rigged!

Coz you see – those clerk’s spreadsheets don’t grow on trees

Quite unlike those Gardener’s wild weeds!

And now folks for the witty rejoinder I talked of in the title.

Sometimes it’s ok to write fluffy poetry like this,

So long as it’s in the bare minority,

& B – Sides,

I know it’ll never make the ‘best of’ anyway.

And on that,

Just as it’s boring to always write fluff,

It’s just as boring to only write

Serious Intellectual tangles,

Always Basted with stripes of gloom.

Or to rephrase with the simple truth of Hard Knocks Street Lingo:

Every grumpy asshole has to be happy sometimes,

If only just to mix things up.

“The Landlord, The Weed & The Warlords” (A Poem)

December 5, 2022December 6, 2022Posted in fiction, Poems, social commentary, SociologyTagged Class Warfare, fiction, Gardening, Humour, Landlords, Napoleon, poem, Poems, Stalin, war, WeedsLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

My Gardener Read A Lot About Napoleon

When I asked Him To Pull Weeds He Refused

He Said He Hadn’t Yet Finalised Battleplans

For The Eastern Portion Of My Yard

I asked Him “But Are You Up For It?”

He Said “It May Be My Demise”

I Turned Around & Went Back To My Silly-Screen.

& Left Him To Turn the Pages Of His ‘Parallel Lives’

When I Returned An Hour Later

A Russian Gardener Had Usurped Him

I Was About To Celebrate My Weeds Death

When I Saw He Too Was Holding A Book

“The Brothers Karamazov”

Oh No I Thought As I Realised That

My New Gardener Was Reading Stalin’s Favourite Book

I Tested Him

“Would You Mind Pulling Those Weeds” I Asked

He Simply Pointed Over To the Garden

My Landlord Was Pulling the Weeds Out

But They Were Also Tied to a Stake

I Went Back Inside to My Silly-Screen With A Broad Smile

It Was Nice To See Societies Roles Reversed

And Soon the Garden Would Look Great!

For Garden Work Is Just Like the History of Tyranny

The Ends Justify the Means.