Rubbishing…

Digging thru old junk,

Examining old stuff that may have shrunk,

Best to do this especially when you are drunk,

As so many things found after years of dust,         

Can smell like that of an old dead skunk…

Piles of paper, miles of stuff saved,

Half the stuff I look for is from my years of being depraved,

Scared to see it or read it, as back then I was always misbehaved…

Childhood dreams, nightmares in lyrics for song,

Can’t remember most of it, it was ago so long,

Back when I still played the guitar, since then I‘ve gone so wrong,

No longer can I even play, guitar sits and the case collects dust,

One day I will try again, or so I seem to think, yes I do trust…

No more lyrics so scary and bold,

Like I did when I was not so very old,

Lots of stuff back then, like satanic and parents when they did scold,      

Death and killing, screaming at the top of my lungs, so shrilling,

Nothing have I found as yet, better that way,

Have found, however my old stash of Columbian Gold,

Should I smoke it, being so old, could have developed by now a parasitic mold…

                        © ed ~ 8/24/04