Best Debris Poems
Aimlessly walking across the wasteland
of your mind,
you pick through the emotional trash
with random intensity
Crushed bottles of plastic thoughts;
half drank, half spilled on dozens of bridal dresses
Crushed cans of metal demands;
hard lemonade speeches, soft wine cooler caresses
And betrothed napkins
blow away in the wind
Rusted pennies for your thoughts
lay strewn on the sidewalk,
as you pick through the mental dumpster
with no sense of urgency
Scattering everywhere your intellectual debris
You find a good pair of glasses of never used honesty
Though you can see your true feelings better now,
you still try not to think too ostensibly
Walking with a more focused purpose,
still with your eyes looking down
and selectively looking around
For what? You’re still not quite sure
As you stroll, traversing the ruins of your mind,
you’re certain of one thing:
Beneath every barren ground,
there’s a treasure trove
of doubt
waiting to be found
thoughtless multitude
Great Pacific Garbage Patch ~
thoughtful attitude
blue skies turn to storm...
counteractive to the norm
debris pieces swarm
despair
dusts hearts dreary
draped in stark pain debris
that angst next dresses more hopeless
depressed
All that I am, was and ever will be,
you'll find written in verses by my hand.
You may never completely understand
the depth, breadth and heart of me
unless you look beyond love's debris.
June 2, 2022
Bite Size Poem No. 45 Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Debris
There was a time when I was a seaman travelled with
a cardboard suitcase and my best shoes wrapped in newspaper.
I always wore khaki mainly because people would think I was
an American, back then I thought it a great country; still great but
But her leaders look like nine to five clerks.
I have read many books but mostly cheep pot boilers.
Due to my shyness spent most time in my cabin and left my ship
when there was no more to read. I did developed a fondness for
Hemingway he never overwrote is books.
But for me reading had its hidden hazard as I tended to become
the person I read about.
I once read a report about me it said I was grumpy drank too much
- I must have been reading Hemingway at the time and had no social
skills and never mixed with others. I was a lousy seaman and only
enjoyed going ashore places I had read about and had an historical
meaning I could connect with. Well all this is in the past I was not to
know I was ill and introversion is a burden.
Alone on this road I can't see
And between u me
Its all blown out of proportion
And there's nothing left but Debris
I try to find my way but to where
To me it not fair cause its all just unclear
Even though we should of known
Our selfishness would cause detonation
Our being aware still called
for no preparation
Because we still blew, An explosion
that left us both shattered
And left all our situations in the air
But I guess now it won't matter
Now is where I recreate
And find a way to start over
But this matters still in the air
And hangs over my head n puts a chip on my shoulder
And hold me down tightly so I'm not free
U also have me suffocating from all the debris
Tainted wits... blurred in
clarity,
a madman's coronation... our
country's plight.
atlas, we are home, choked in
parity
another to our last 51, the
journey's so far.
can we break the walls?
This imagination, a shattering
throne.
when city's celebrate a
thousand birth-years,
then we recollect another
bloodshed...
52 million heads in 52 dying
years.
what a shame!
My country of birth
civilized cannibals, through
kingdoms of ancient gods
to masquerades in
government house...our
golden gates.
BOKO HARAM? lies.
another lie,
Can of worms... debris at the
golden gates,
At 27,I look older than my
country's age
what years of tears had done
to my teenly skin,
my skipping heart would have
been younger in Queensland.
Another death rate
on our golden birth...52?
decades of misuse... reckless
abandonment,
while the slim pigs eats
porridge,
fattening to unconsciousness in
American clinics
once parading as good
Shepherds, we are all gone,
pocketted in their fat pockets.
52 years of ferocious reigns,
when he's gone..
yet another one
Olusegu..abach, babangi,
jona... No calling names,
Yet they all wear the same
masks.
Maggots at the golden
gates...snakes at the states
secretariates,
traditional money-bags...
nothing is left to cry for.
we are finished dry...
the tears are all gone...
though not fools, we only
watch.
If only tears could talk,
They would surely be cutthroats.
If only fear could walk,
It would blindly go toward you.
And if only grudges are strong,
It would hold you forever.
If I would be honest about what I feel,
and follow the lead of my freewill,
I will unquestionably end up in hell,
And yet I will still say that I am well.
This ain't just poetry or one of the romantic passages.
This is mind and heart unleashing the damages,
When the mind says no and the heart no longer says yes either,
Neither yes nor no, it no longer knew what to say, for it has withered,
And the soul that aches is silenced by the guilt of morality,
Tell me you will be there for me in another infinity.
As we grow older we understand
That some things we wanted weren’t part of God’s plan
A moment in time we’d thought would last forever
Is over, but to be forgotten, never
Time proves over and over to remain true
It allows us to see what we once never knew
How people, places, and circumstances have all changed
And what was once perfection, has now been deranged
No doubt there will be struggles, even worse than we’ve faced before
Yet through these struggles we learn what perseverance is for
The goals and game plan we once so tightly embraced
Has soon with society and greed been replaced
From this we learn we can become accountable for only ourselves
Forced to answer to the blame we once placed upon shelves
We realize to be the change in the world we wish to see
We must rid ourselves of the world’s harmful flying debris
Tsunami
Clinging to a tree my might is numb
Teeth chattering, soaked in seaweed I succumb
to the shores of doom, the tides violent surge
Adrift and marooned all owed to a sudden urge
After the party I woke up on a tropical island
Wild rainforest and coconut groves, tailor made in Thailand
The Turtle Island, underwaters heaven
We were seven, gone snorkeling the night before
None of which were ones who washed ashore
I heard scrambling voices from below
less those who didn’t survive the deathblow
Lungs spewing up ocean water, not the timeless turquoise,
but the stormy muddled wash, murky, writhing wildly
sirening a crushing noise
Twigs, glass, and storms debris rips through skin
Blood seeps down red rivers running thin
soaked thoroughly, bringing shivers
As tidal waves and ruthless rain cease their wells,
instinctively the islanders help each other through
the fallen landscapes
As the beached turtles struggle in their shells,
who once glided effortlessly in the sea
I know what I must do
Keep with the spirit of aloha
and stay until the sky becomes blue
Then set the turtles free
debris from dark storm
dredged by the leaf skimmer -
grandsons putter* in pool
* to move or act aimlessly or idly
Captivation
Replication
Reinforcement
Of the demonstration
Lying anger
Silent quiver
Noisy confessions
Of what we never
Had the guts
To ever accomplish
So we sit here
Waiting for the end of it
Reincarnation
Of disintegration
Is the reflection
Of pride in our nation.
and it all runs off
like a desert wash
after the monsoon rain
debris left in dry arroyos
hazard signs to remind
remnants of the storm
This poem is exactly what you need to read if you are ever thinking about taking your life. My daughter was but a 4 year old little girl who is STILL affected by her TiTi's (Auntie Karen) suicide. Her assignment in English class was to write your "personal narrative", and she wrote this. A tale of love and loss at such a young age. May she be blessed with healing as she grows. Even though she is making is seem she has got better as she grew, this momma knows she's really not here at home. It breaks my heart when I read this because I KNOW she is in more pain than she is leading on in this poem. This is what happens. You get a little girl who has no idea how to handle her emotions due to the depth of suicide's darkness...if Karen only knew what debris she left behind nine years ago.
This is exactly how she wrote it:
"Come home from preschool to hear some really bad news-
My aunt was found but not alive,
Oh, how I thought she would survive.
Not understanding anything, I was only four,
I still can’t go back to that dollar store.
I still remember those fun times today,
I wish all my tears were washed away.
Things got better as I grew, so much I had,
Although I never knew that I would be so sad.
Life is good and up and down,
I think I smile and laugh more than I frown.
My family has been here since thick and thin,
Even when the lights were dim.
I really miss my aunt, I think of her every day,
But I know I will see her again one day.
My family is finally at peace and rest,
Now that we got all the pain off our chests.
I love my cousins, they cheer me up,
They really fill my morning cup.
Sometimes I feel I have a depressing lifetime,
But now I don’t think of it that way-
Because I have a loving family who makes my soul shine."
-By my beautiful daughter Ella Rose, my sweet girl
a 13 year old who loved her TiTi more than life
Written: October 24, 2019
Posted: October 27, 2019