#dumps
Deep down in the gutters of my soul
Are the hopes and aspirations I have no more
Are the dark desires, the inhuman in me
Are the deadly fires, the path of destruction leads.
Far away in the dumps of my soul
Is the true me,
That which I am no more
I get cooler as the world grows more cold
I am becoming nothing,
Nothing more than a lost soul.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
We called it dump country
Tons and tons of junk
Old bicycles and plenty
Of bottles from the drunks.
The legal dump sites
Had not been arranged.
This was now the city,
Things yet to be arranged.
Four little kids, broke ***
Not much money for toys.
It was the end of the fifties,
Bad times for little boys.
We made our own adventure,
Way before Disneyland.
We left right after breakfast
To us, the whole trip was grand.
We found amazing things
And brought them all home.
I found a gold painted Buddha
Under a kind of glass dome.
Jim found a tricycle there
And cleaned it up real nice.
It was a really good dump site
We went a lot more than twice.
We called it dump country
We had it to ourselves.
Just us four busy bumpkins.
Santa’s ***** little elves.
We found wheels and things
To build our own little cars.
We got cut up a bit sometimes.
I still have one of the scars.
Over in dump country
The one nearest to our place
Sam found a bit of money
One penny with an Indian face.
But what we found there
Added up to a treasure chest.
It sounds silly but they may be
The memories that were best.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC