He Was Homeless Junkyard

Stained yellow teeth, decades of mistreatments; Tattered worn hair, mustered stare... Worn torn shoes just vagabond, dementia rusted mind; Seems he's been here before, open spaces relics; My yard is filled with junk; What's up-- Rusted rattled metal, such a waste dried up sores, rusted; Out of date ragged clothes, ON THE FENCE Decades of mistreatments, homeless surrounded by substance; His environment anywhere, his life going nowhere; If he dies right now will his organs be parted out; Guts and organs sold he mutters and says I am a junk yard; My mind scrap collected recycled discarded; I'm dream his dreams of preoccupation; Trapped in thoughts odiousness wrecked spirit; The populist calls the me lay; Homeless thoughts on his private injustice; My the junk, my mind is trash Died So people cried another thrown away soul; Deposited... thrown away as an ...Junkyard 10/5/19 For My Favorite Junkyard Sponsored by: craig cornish