Disposal of Solitude - At Least I'M Trying
I acquire grievous compost in my mind’s glass eye,
piles and piles of waste debris lingers-
my subconscious feeds my intellect
and I am left breathing pure black ash
sinister by true nature yet pure as the whitest gold,
I seek the landfill only the poor seek;
for the needy realize the worth of
nourishment, not material wealth
my mind cracks open ineffably with vivid memories,
and this junkyard dwells where things
do not inhabit the universe - well needed
healthy thoughts ascend when the pure
crystalline hourglass stands perfectly still-
(as still as an imperial monumental column)
fear of the acumen residue in my dark mind procures,
feet planted firmly, standing upright-
ephemeral thoughts in my mind’s glass
eye flow through my bone marrow-
I embrace the remnants of solitude that
restlessly reside in my favorite junkyard;
(where I shall salvage what joy I have
left, and yearn to dispose of pain's refuse)
22 lines (sorry I just could not delete anymore lines)
October 31, 2019
Craig Cornish
My Favorite Junkyard Poetry Contest
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