Twice a week
we put out our trash,
participate in recycling,
so the city can make cash,
Right in the human body
there's a dump,
part of the digestive,
seperates food addictive,
uses the good taste,
gets rid of the bad waste.

Big city or small,
there's a trash dump for all.
Inside the mind,
mental junk will grind,
until it's put in the
proper category,
those who can't seperate the junk,
find less personal glory,
might end up a
six o'clock news story.
Some personal junk will
bring the house down,
one reason I love my clown.
I use my junk of stash,
turn it into cash,
laugh about it,
refuse to crash.

Pimp, punk, poor soul,
good person or skunk,
everyone has got junk.
Some peoples junk
becomes community property,
family, friends, and others,
know about the action,
Society and the police might
have to help give others satisfaction.
My junk stays in my head,
gets recycled positive instead,
helps keep me out of the red.

Other people will try
to make us apart of their junk,
go for it we may end up
a smelling skunk,
maybe locked in their trunk,
could end up a drunk,
at the worst sleeping in
their bunk,
sleeping dog sprees,
we may come up with fleas.

Get a new friend,
the junk will transcend,
may or may not end,
untill we make a dump,
after going through a slump.
Get married,
we collect anothers person junk,
even in the bunk,
hopefully it won't be a skunk.

God birthed us in a beautiful place,
but not if we keep the junk
in our face.
Life takes negotiating,
good and bad junk seperating,
Sometimes we might
have to clean house,
or the house might clean us,
wipe us right off the
face of the earth.

OnepoetGem