Best Garbage In Poems
It's raining cats and dogs on a dark and stormy night -
with such a stroke of genius, a poet starts to write.
Inane clichés he's banging out to beat the band,
a booby trap as big as life to bite the poet's hand.
It opens up a can of worms to catch the early birds
but with no bird in hand he'll have to eat his words.
The tropes are fresh as daisies, with infinite supplies
of broken-hearted lovers, and rainbow butterflies.
Garbage in and garbage out, it's fun and games for all,
to sell you down the river and drive you up the wall.
For if it's true a pen is more mighty than a sword,
then we're as good as dead, for to death we will be bored.
Brutes, in name of God, to show their might,
fixed laws, that you’d succumb like measly sheep.
Womankind, kind woman, rise and fight.
Innocents of war with smiles once bright,
ravished; tossed like garbage in a heap,
angels hovering nigh have you in sight.
Faithful brides, for something less than trite,
set on fire in their beds as they sleep.
Kind woman, womankind, your soul‘s in flight.
Girls in huts, legs spread, cry out in fright.
A ritual to mutilate cuts deep.
Angels from on high do hear your plight.
Wives in their own homes (not all is right),
beaten, hush their children not to weep.
Womankind, kind woman, comes the night. . . .
Sisters, don’t be wearied by the blight.
For what they sow, God’s told us they shall reap.
Angels have prepared you robes of white.
Kind woman, womankind, hold tight your light.
For the 'TRIBUTE TO WOMEN' Poetry Contest
I've never really seen you before,
But it feels like I see you daily, times four
I am health adherent, I don't take drugs outside doctor's prescription,
But you are the first drug I would take based on advice from a physicist, not a physician...
Even my brain now works like a computer
The only difference is you are the input and you are the output.
For a regular computer, it would be garbage in garbage out.
But I'm no regular computer.
I'm a super computer,
So it's my baby in, my baby out.
You say inner beauty is what you crave for?
With such a beautiful smile,
I can only tell it comes from a beautiful inside...
Stay beautiful baby
Stay beautiful
I think we are all drummers –
of course, drum musicians know
that drumming is not just pounding
on the skins (well, vinyl these days) –
there is also, soulful brushwork, and
finessing of symbols...not everyone a crash;
drums breathe -- all parts -- from outer
shells to inner resonance; influenced
also by surface temperature, humidity
of the room, and the echos of their
wall enclosure or freedom – not so
different from the maker: our hearts
are echo-chambers...especially our
minds, the garbage in the garbage out –
we echo love or the discourse of the
environment – we are beat spirited
rhythms, shuffles and stomps of feet –
tasteful entrees and all that a desire
can eat – seeming devils at times,
that only our surrender to God can
defeat – Yes! God is a drummer: no
moving instrument of being without
its core sound – a universe of timpani,
some quite square, but really, all is
round – the universe a lively Topsy,
a swing and a shout – we leap and
twirl in time – knowing time, not
gravity, keeps us down, shuts us
in, or keep us up and highly
out. Even at my age, more apt
to honestly, sweat-fully gig, than play
under any, pretentious, perfumed
wig.
your output
to the universe
comes back to you
like a "Return to Sender" mail.
if you treat people
with utmost respect and dignity,
they'll reciprocate;
treasure in, treasure out.
the same can be said
of maltreatment,
it's always repaid in kind;
garbage in, garbage out.
it's a fair trade,
every time.
in this cruel, savage world,
sprinkle in a handful of tenderness.
one is infinitely better off
trading meanness
with kindness.
it's much easier being...
a good human being.
it's far from expensive;
buy into it, it costs
less than a penny!
If I could empty out my mind I would put all the garbage in the trash.
I would take out all the mistakes analize them to see how much I have learned.
I would not take out the pain and suffering because it has given me strength and
courage.
I would remove all my family and friends and, put Jesus in front of them.
If I could empty out my mind one day I might see a brighter future.
If I could only stop dwelling on my past I could empty out my mind one day.
A broken mirror
A gustily reflection of misfortunes
I don’t recognise myself anymore
An honest look at my dishonesty
Yes, I’m a liar
The image distorted with each retreating step of shame
I take, and I move ten steps backwards in life
The falling pieces like sharp knifes
Pierce the ground with screaming cries
No!!!
Did I just dig my own grave?
The earth bleeds (from me)
Soaking the ground with broken promises
I try to flee the scene
Hoping never to be seen
To hide from my guilty conscience
Hoping not to be convicted for seven years
By poetic justice
And the crush of his firm finger
He had pointed straight at me
The lie exposed
Blood on my hands,
My fist broke the mirror
My lack of character,
A life of no restraint
Of anger and hate
My over indulgences and cutting corners
All brought to bare
The broken mirror echoes my scattered, dying soul
It intrigues me like a thousand pieces of a puzzle,
Challenging me to put my life back together
You’re such a liar, I dare you!
If I’m honest, I know only I can,
But my inner voice is unrelenting
No you won’t you liar!
I put my neck on the block
A voluntary fratricide
To be rid of this inner, rotten core
A mind like Pandora’s box
They say garbage in garbage grows!
The contents need to be forgotten
The combination unknown
Self-destruction mode on do-not-unlock
I accept I can never run away from my own thoughts
This outer shell content with my decision
For seven years it exhausted me
It haunted me,
Assimilated anew in the fields of second chances
Reassembled from pieces of glass and blood
I return to me a complete reflection
It's not impossible that my house stink.
At times there festers garbage in a sack
behind a closet door, and once the sink
got clogged with who-knows-what; sent water back
up filthy and all black; I dished it out
scoop by nasty scoop into a pan.
That damn disposal broke. There was no doubt
my kitchen reeked, so I turned on a fan
and dropped some baking soda in the drain
(I'd heard it stopped most odors), but the worst
came next: a stench which I could not explain.
I searched my rooms. Six days my house was cursed
until I found it dead and hidden well -
a mouse I bet inhaled the kitchen's smell!
(true story but a little exaggerated!)
For Susan Burch's
Offensive Odors or Noise Pollution Poetry Contest
I opened the can
to throw the garbage in
and the stuff in it jumped out at me
and wrestled me to the ground
and covered me all over
to breath
to be heard
to be seen
to love
no more
A fish flew out of the water.
Nobody knew why until he spoke,
he carried a warning for Mankind.
The fish looked human.
I need to talk to the CEO's, he said.
They came, the fish spoke.
If you don’t stop making and throwing plastics,
trash and garbage in the oceans, seas, and rivers,
your planet will die.
Captains of Industry be wary you who create the products that pollute
Do you think you’re safe?
Take note that when you see the small of life disappear
life in the oceans and seas will vanish,
the demise of rivers replete with pestilence will dry up
the human race will then take its turn at being extinct
You have made billions at the expense of life on earth,
receiving a billion dollars for every life you sacrificed
billions you were sure were safely tucked away in hide-a-way banks
But now, your life and family are destroyed by a war you financed
doesn't give you much consolation does it, Mr. Businessman?
Your insatiable greed finally won out.
No living creature is left, cities and forests have been decimated
no place left to spend your well planned looting;
you could have saved many lives
Except you didn’t care
your endless greedy pursuit to increase profits
condemned the world to the black hole of extinction
You financed the annihilation of all living creatures
As you were killing the world, you also set in motion
the removal of Man’s historical struggle from the story of the Universe
Making Man a thing that never was and never existed
In this impending historical vacuum, Man became collateral damage
the term you notoriously used to justify your murderous behavior.
Even now, engulfed in the fires of Hell,
you seek absolution through deals, but your reasoning is false
Lucifer welcomes your ilk, he's proud of you but he makes no deals
With souls he already has in his bag.
Mother Earth, she weeps, but her tears are all in vain.
Men who seek profit and power will never feel guilt or shame.
What is happening to our world? Wake up and see what we have done.
The pollution that fills our air is now blocking out the sun.
We carelessly chop down our trees at such an alarming rate.
Nothing left to purify our air; is our existence left to fate?
Who will pollinate our plants when we kill off all the bees?
What will be left of our oceans when we contaminate all our seas?
Majestic animals that share our world, men track them down to kill,
Not for any particular purpose, they hunt them for the thrill.
Beautiful beasts that once roamed our lands free,
Reduced to decomposing carcasses hunted for a fee.
Our marine life is being poisoned by all our toxic waste.
Plastics dumped in mass for all our fish to taste.
Mountains of our garbage, in our oceans we do store,
Then watch in silence as the blood-drenched waves break angrily on the shore,
And with it, all the decaying corpses from once an abundant sea of the living,
A sea that kept us fed, a sea that kept on giving.
Without all these things, we cannot survive.
Each link has a purpose in the circle of life, and they keep us alive.
Our planet is our mother; we live in her womb.
She provides for all life; let's not make her our tomb.
Gangster rap?
Stop crap!
Take a nap?
Jaws flap
Don't fling garbage in brain
Thinking of junk - what is gain?
"garbage in, garbage out...sometimes you gotta clean out the mental closet"_ quote by poet
junk
in the attic
of the mind,
lingering on;
gradually
gathering dust.
cumbersome junk
of tossed aside woes
piling up;
steadily
ballooning
into a big pile
of tainted white elephants
that clog up
my thought process.
occasional practice
of mindfulness
is my way
of clearing out
the mental clutter.
Form J - Just Write Me A New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance LaFrance
Theme chosen: Junk
Date written: 03/22/2022
I came onto my street today
I stood in shock and awe
vast piles of garbage,in front of every house
is the sad sight that i saw
Its called a clean up so they say
but for this waste we all will pay.
majestic forests felled with greed
to satisfy our useless needs
tvs ,fridges,piled up high
this wasteful sight makes me just sigh.
buildings sore up to the clouds
heartles structures of glass and steel
their only claim is eye appeal.
and who lives in these ivory towers
multi nationals full of powers
plundering earths bounty
from above the city
for mountains of cash its such a pity
useless mountains of paper cash
to produce what?
these mounds of trash.
next time you buy that useless crap
two dollar shop or xmas wrap
make your next clean up pile be small
because it will really help us all
Hey Poke!
Yes, you!
I can see your nose in my business
I’m not trying to be disrespectful
But, I can see your nose
Oh, it’s so big!
Don’t act surprised
Everyone knows
Look, there’s no place for your nose here
You can’t park it here
This is my space
Hey, this is no joke!
I can see you carrying a huge sack
All day long it’s on your back
You have a lot of garbage in your luggage
Sort out your own mess
And kindly take your nose with you
Please!
I’m so tired of seeing your nose in my business
I’m distracted by its bigness
Its size
It’s…huge!
I hear you are waiting to see me cry
I really don’t know why
I’m sorry to disappoint you
But please
Pretty please!
Find a new job description
Hey, here’s your doctor’s prescription:
“No more poking!”
“To be taken at no time daily!”
Signed by YOUR DOCTOR
By Sylvia Chika
sylviachika@gmail.com
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Twitter:@sylviaoz
© 2016 Sylvia Chika