Short Junked Poems

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Each dawn's debris sort
of wreckage from day before
yields jetsam just junked 
and flotsam break-up relics.
On the beach who can tell which?...

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I junked up my pretty kitchen.
I filled up my loveliest hall.
Dragged in filthy dirty boxes
And that is certainly not all.
Swiftly filled up our three car garage,
And demolished the living room.
Someone better try to stop me.
Frankly, they cannot come too soon....

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Gruesome as Judas cradle growl,
I dabble in gore thereby.

Everyday Norse hannibalish,
so my ribs outward,
exposed flesh, gangrenous.

I beg water, I chew my tongue
Schwedentrunk painful,
Junked, revealed, confessed to. 

The immense crux pain,
till my stomach bloated up....

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Imbued rose colors
of birth. Sky tinted billowed
petals, junked. Florid

gardens, immaculate.
Scents of citrus heavens. Bloodshot
tinctured cotton

colors. Rubicund 
chalk crumbles, powders highlands
thrusting. An ingress

kerfs a hyloid 
barrier. Cruer clots. Spook.
Cimmeran smudges....

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The Fakir is under no compulsion
To teach you
To relieve you from pain
To grant pleasure abundant
You may walk to him 
You may not
Fakir will walk with you 
Fakir’s journey is no seasonal
At times when you feel
You walked too far
You are lone traveler
You are junked
Even at home, you occupy only a corner
The onset of remorse
You have to, you feel like
To bow
To surrender
This time, Fakir’s arrival, around the corner…....

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Stop and think for a moment
about how it has creeped up.
Its a world of throw away.
Just trash you think; disposible.

Everything just junked
athough it has a use still.
Piles and piles of things
filling up the landfills.

And when it comes down to it
so are we disposible like trash.
The promotion promised gone
the excuse flimsy and week.

Because at the end of the day
we live in a disposible world!
With no or little value attached
to anything its all simply disposible!...

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