Disposal Poems - Poems about Disposal

Proper Proposal of Disposal What always had been greatest goal, Will be proper disposal of a proposal; While we wait, Rejuvenate; Thank God for saving our each soul. Jim Horn...

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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...

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There are skeletons in the wardrobe but they’re home and dry Looked after properly moth balled and yet unkindly falling apart Conscience is layered just as are subconscious wishes and fears Sometimes I play with the bones and take them to the junkyard They call it recycling but I offer them as they are as good as new Pennies for...

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Proposal At Your Disposal When we are planning a proposal; Definitely should be at your disposal; About to think; Not off slink; If local about it you must become vocal. Jim Horn...

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So tired of the family disposal running Churning up all the past garbage Everything that this one did Twenty years ago not forgotten Never draining just splitting Chewing all the hate All the hurts never get resolved When your family doesn't know Never tries to relate to another So the garbage continues to grind Over and over into a paste A slime of stench...

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He likes an egg without a shell, cracked by the careless act of a grocery store clerk. There's always some jerk who could make you sick then read your obit with a pained expression as if that session and consequence grim had nothing to do with him. The Og. loves spaghetti is always ready when you've got a question of indigestion. He loves a meal of apple peel (forgive me...

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The words at my disposal May be simple, even trite; Yet they suffice to satiate My rhyming appetite. I spice them up as best I can And simmer them with care, At times attempting recipes Exotic, if I dare. Though usually my degustations Match my aptitude; I’ve sampled other sustenance, But rhyme’s my comfort food. And when I dish it out, I hope That someone takes a bite. It...

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For the home refuse we dug a pit We bury the dead to forget We bury the dead not of respect My waste frame needs no burial My waste frame needs disposal Jungle wild beasts bury not their dead Yet the remnants live well-fed....

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