#hoard
You take the worst of you.
You take the worst and hide it away,
Deep in a dark building,
In its dark basement,
In the darkest room,
And lock it away.
Hidden and forgotten.
You hide it because you’re ashamed;
You hide it because you can’t erase it.
So it’s buried with all your flaws,
Mistakes,
Regrets,
Never to see the light.
Time convinces you this is who you are.
And you believe it so.
Then someone comes along
And sees what you want to become.
What you can become,
And the light they shine on you
Is the warmest your skin has ever felt.
You want them to know the real you,
Not the version common eyes feast on.
You clutch the key in your pocket,
Twirling it in your trembling hand,
Wanting to hand it to them,
Allow them to venture to the depths of your failures.
You want them to see it and exclaim
“I still accept you.”
The thought fades,
And you’re reminded of the storage
That haunts the basement of that lonely building.
You see the terrors tucked away
And imagine what this special person would think.
You are a hoarder of horrors,
Too afraid to let anyone see,
And too afraid to let go.
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 5:08 PM UTC
No one ever told me,
that life would be this hard;
That men could be so cruel,
it simply breaks my heart.
~
Some with power and money,
rarely think about the poor;
They're the worse of all,
always wanting so much more.
~
The epitomy of selfishness,
only thinking of themselves;
Slamming doors upon the needy,
refusing to lend their help.
~
With a smirk upon their faces,
they snub all those in need;
Refusing to help all those,
who are starving in the streets.
~
They sit at their fancy tables,
with food in abundance to share;
Not concerned about the hungry,
these Vultures do not care.
~
Do they ever feel remorse,
having more then what they need;
They hoard all their possessions,
consumed by heartless greed.
~
When night time falls upon them,
they climb in their, soft beds;
Their souls are full of darkness,
their hearts', already dead.
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 3:10 AM UTC
Why can’t I write?
Like I once did before,
Tragedy and remedy.
Wrapped up simply yet in a hoard,
What bounding breaks of wording.
Make truth simply desired not abhorred,
When words of life are ever fleeting.
A desire of wanting the same but more.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:26 PM UTC
The golden baby
In the last slice of Mardigras cake
A half dollar
Well after they stopped being printed
A rare right sided conch
When most others are left
Are the rare treasures I find buried underneath
The glass bird
Dainty as can be
And the size of a nail
The miniature tea cup
A full set
Spoon and all
The Minni and Miki
Mouse holiday wear
mini collectibles
Miniature Kitty Kat
Pouches
In four different colors
Are the tiny bobbles I couldn’t bear to part with
The multitudes of dice
From classic six sided
To 8 To 12
Even dice in dice
More than can be counted
Erasers by the gazillions
Stingrays, baseball gloves
Eraser pencils with missing erasers
And a baby head detached from the body
Keychains, by the plenty
Sunglasses, Weapons
Dream catchers, bird’s with bells, all sorts
Of strange and curious oddities attached to a chain
Coins, many sizes countries
Fake, real
Dinar, Rupee, Euro, dollar,
Replica of ancient yuan
Jewelry-
Don’t even get me started
Necklaces, bracelets
Rings and earrings
Even though my ears aren’t pierced!
My hoarding tendencies coming to light in this
Curious collection of collections
Also known as
The objects in my closet
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
I will re-decorate
the space in my mind
for you;
the space that cries
save
and the chains that scream
h o a r d
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
I live on the mountain
Below the silver mist
In the valley, full of magic
Where the sun has rarely kissed
I am called a smudger
I live on what's left behind
I have been here near forever
I'm the last one of my kind
Below the mountain major
Lives a dragon, fierce and bold
Sleeping now, and dreaming
Of it's hoard of stolen gold
Eleventy years plus twenty
I have been here on this earth
Cleaning up the dragons droppings
It's how I justify my worth
The dragon's ruled this mountain
For a thousand thousand years
The silver river that flows through it
Is full of snow melt and of tears
Once a generation
Someone comes from down below
Gets the villagers all riled
Says "The dragon has to go"
They go and fight the dragon
Try to take his hoard of gold
And that is why, it's me the smudger
Who knows how the story must be told
The fighter leaves the village
Full of gusto and incensed
Saying "justice for the village"
or close to that....condensed
The dragon then awakens
Flys around and burns the town
Leaving nothing left but ashes
everything gone or burned down
Now, I, your local smudger
Cleans up the dead and done
It's a profitable existence
Since I am the only one
The dragon knows there's nothing
Much more of value to behold
The villagers were poor folk
Owning neither jewels or gold
I've cleaned up more destruction
Caused by villagers who go
On up to face the dragon
And get killed with just one blow
Now, I make candles with their bodies
I use their skin and body fat
I weave the hair not melted
And I make a nice new front hall mat
The bones I grind and scatter
On the mountain in the trees
It helps the ferns all grow strong
And keeps the trees free from disease
What little money I find
I leave half by the dragons den
Over time I have left there
Money from five thousand men
I've swords I sell at auction
When I travel, but that's rare
There is really nothing for me
That's not near the dragons lair
It's a relationship existing
On destruction and of greed
The dragon burns the village
And I get the things I need
They rebuild and they recover
And a generation may pass by
When once again some young, strong fighter
Wakes the dragon, makes him fly
I guess we need each other
That's the way it's always been
I'm the smudger on the mountain
I'm the one who's never seen
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC